High life
Let or hindrance
Taki
WaNew York tching Wimbledon on American TV is a bit like seeing ballet performed in a saloon. Yankee commentators talk too much and too loud, distract the audience by commenting during the rallies and, worst of all, try and predict what will hap- pen next. 'Oh boy, a double fault would ruin his chances,' I heard the egregious Bil-
lie Jean King say during one match.
Wimbledon 1991 will not go down in ten- nis history as a vintage one. The men's final is a foregone conclusion (I write this as they are down to the last 16), and the Graf–Sabatini match will decide the women's winner. The good news is that the ghastly Agassi's advisers have ordered him to play the nice guy on court, and that the psychopath McEnroe is on his way back to Hollywood where his histrionics belong. The best news of all, however, is that the double grunter Seles is holed up some- where in Trump's Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach or in Colorado. A lousy Wimbledon is better off without the noise the Yugoslav emits every time she makes contact with the ball. It is a hell of a noisy issue.
The greed that rules professional tennis has yet again made a mockery of the rules. Because there is a hindrance rule. If one creates a hindrance unintentionally, the umpire can stop play and have the point replayed. If one does it again, one loses the point because it is deemed intentional.
My opinion is that Seles grunts intention- ally, because I have noticed that she grunts the most on the easiest shots. Manuela Maleeva, for one, agrees with me. Seles is no longer friendly with Nick Bolletieri, but was coached by this terrible man at a very early age. Bolletieri turns out robots, two of whom I recently met with my friend Sharia Bachtiar and they told us they had never heard of the Vatican.
What troubles me is why the hindrance rule has not been applied. If more players start grunting a la Seles, the place will become even more of a zoo than it already is. The whole rot started with Connors. Back in the good old days, hard hitters like Lew Hoad and Rod Laver never grunted. Now we have the muffled bark of Jennifer Capriati, Gabriela Sabatini's deep-throated gargle and a cacophony of yelps and screams from the rest of them.
Poor Ivan Lendl, who is anything but a grunter, says he is constantly distracted by them. Personally, I refuse to play next to grunters, and have had constant arguments with young players — especially in the Olive Republic of Grease — who make up for their lack of talent by squealing like the proverbial stuffed pig on every swing.
Needless to say, the apologists for the grunters insist that the grunt helps players exhale. But although I may be old- fashioned, even I remember the days when tennis was played at a high level by players who did not hold their breath in. Grunting is an affectation at best and cheating at worst, and it should be stopped now. Karate men scream as they attack in order to scare and distract their opponent. Ditto the grunters. The only way it can be stopped is for non-grunters like Lendl to yell karate-fashion whenever they hit the ball. That would force the powers-that-be to make a decision. And besides, the only time ladies should make a noise is in the bedroom, not on the tennis court.
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