Who's for tennis?
Taki
ERougemont
ver since the suicide bombing, tennis hasn't exactly been uppermost in my mind. Just before 11 September I won my age group in the Lenk International, and am off now to Geneva, a very strong tournament, and I'll finish up in St Tropez, another very hard tournament to win. After that it's New York via London until Christmas.
Playing in the 65s and over has its good points. In Lenk. my quarter-final opponent could run but couldn't play. My semi-final was easier, as my adversary could play but couldn't run. The trouble comes when one is against some bore with no redeeming vices who slices, top spins, gives no pace and runs down everything. I know many such types, and a lot of them also cheat — not on their grotty wives, of course, but on the tennis court.
The last time I played in St Tropez I lost to a very good German player — it was the day O.J. Simpson was acquitted of murdering two white people — and the brute kept giving me horrendous calls. I asked for a referee and duly got one. While waiting for the ump, I needled the pig by asking him if he had been a guard in a concentration camp. 'What do you mean by this?' he spluttered. 'You are not a sportsman.' 'What I mean is that you weren't man enough to serve in the Wehrmacht, and as far as being a sportsman at least 1 give you the benefit of the doubt when calling the lines,' was my answer. Alas, he began playing even better after the short interlude, and while shaking hands at the end he informed me he had been six years old at the end of the war. 'Well, what about the Hitler Youth, they fought until the bitter end .. . ', but he refused to take the bait. For some reason, I'm sure I'll come up against him this time in St Trop and I sure hope so as I'm playing well for a change.
Tennis, however, doesn't interest me any more. I don't know what it is, but it's a silly game played by a lot of very silly people. It is not a tough sport like running, jumping, throwing, wrestling or boxing. It is not thrilling and dangerous like polo or skiing or karate. It's not a gent's sport like shooting or hunting. In fact, it is a sissy's game which requires great concentration — my greatest weakness when I was on the circuit — and an incredible lack of imagination. I got into the racket (yes, I know, pun intended) for the women, because way back then girls thought tennis players were cute and football players slobs. Mind you, now they think tennis players are rich and football players ditto. I have a friend, Edward Ulmann, who became a very accomplished player just to play mixed doubles — followed by indoor mixed doubles — with Gabriella Sabatini. He managed the former only. Tennis back then, of course, was fun. Now it's a business, and even in veterans' tournaments one runs into boorish behaviour, especially from Americans who see every match as a war, and use warlike cries (kill it, blow him away, etc.) to psyche themselves up.
And speaking of Americans, I hope they vote Rudy Giuliani quickly back into office. President Bush should take him as his vicepresident in 2004, as the great Dick Cheney's ticker might be worn out by then. Like everyone else I've been watching Rudy in action, and he's truly impressive. Giuliani is the greatest mayor the city's ever had, and the reason for this is he's never been afraid of the unions, racebaiters such as Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, the poverty pimps and the liberal lefties in local and national government. He has been the best friend of those who regularly give their lives in the line of duty, and it took a tragedy such as this one for the grotesque New York Times to stop sniping at him for cleaning up the terrible mess the first black mayor, David Dinkins, left behind him. One thing is for sure, however. By this time next year the city will be once again be a dirty and unsafe place with crime climbing and whites fleeing. The midgets who are running for Rudy's office are nonentities who will give in to minorities quicker than you can say Sidi Mohammed Bouf Caca.
Mind you, the only thing that offended me in the extremely moving ceremony in Yankee Stadium last Sunday was the number of mullahs who rose to praise Allah, in whose name close to 7,000 people were murdered. One would have sufficed. (Incidentally, last week's Spectator article by Stephen Schwartz is a must-read for the American authorities seeking the culprits: they're in their own backyard. Someone should send it to the FBI.) Everyone praised the diversity of the city but, take it from me, a lot less diversity would do the place a hell of a lot of good.
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