Its tennis time again in London. Queens Club tournament and its German counterpart.

I watched a tennis match yesterday. Nothing unusual in that. It’s the season. Andy Murray was playing. At Queens Club in West London, the pre-cursor to Wimbledon. That was unusual. He could hardly walk five months ago. Subsequent hip surgery has given him his movement back. It’s unlikely he’ll make back to the top as a singles player, I fear, but as a doubles player he gave us a great spectacle. Alongside his partner - he was playing with another elder statesman and former Queens champion, Feliciano ‘Wile E Coyote’ Lopez – he took to the court and they won. They beat the favourites. Murray’s class shone through. He has won Queens Club five times. It seemed apt.

            I’ve been watching Queens Club since the late eighties. Many an afternoon, I would rush home at lunchtime with relish to watch it and reluctantly leave a little later to go back to school, resenting the boredom that awaited me. It was, of course, a different time. In those days it was the Stella Artois tournament. These days its sponsored by a very trendy and successful drinks mixer brand, Fever Tree. In all fairness, Gin and Tonic does seem more appropriate for the genteel surroundings than a beer which is alternatively known as “wife beater”.

            The tennis has changed too. Thirty years ago, serve and volley tactics dominated the grass game. These days not so much, so it was a pleasure to watch another match yesterday between the Frenchman Nicolas Mahut and the great Swiss, Stan Wawrinka. Mahut, an excellent doubles player, is a little old school, volleying, sliced backhand chip and charge and so on. And he won. Granted, Wawrinka arguably let the match slip out of his hands and he is not a natural grass court player, perhaps? The speed and unpredictability being tricky for him but he has three Grand Slams and awesome power. So well done Mahut. I’ve spent seventeen summers in London and never been to Queens Club. I did try once with my mate Richie, in 2015, but the queues were so long we thought ‘sod it’ and watched it in a pub round the corner. I should rectify that as it has huge charm. A sort of mini-Wimbledon. Impossible to know who will win, but whoever does will take massive confidence into Wimbledon. The young Greek, Tsitsipas, is favourite and looks pretty good, but Raonic, the giant Canadian is a danger.

            The German equivalent of Queens is also happening this week. In Halle, West Germany. Also played on grass it attracts an equally impressive field of players including Roger Federer who has won it about twelve times. It’s very different from the cosmopolitan, ‘Pimms on the lawn’ feel of West London. Massively different, I can confirm as I’ve been there twice. Gerry Weber, whoever he is, set it up in the 1990’s. A sports stadium and not much else, in the middle of rolling, verdant countryside. A little incongruous but I like that. He may have worked in Fashion. There is a catwalk at the tournament. That’s as fancy as it gets though. Catwalk strutting models aside - many of whom, are refreshingly non-skeletal - it’s delightfully low key and delightfully German. Great beer or ‘pilsner’ as they call it, served in real glass, not plastic cups.  Bratwurst sausages on a bun, chips with industrial mayonnaise. What’s not to like. And lots of little plump German ladies and gentleman who are there for a good time and for great tennis. Nothing else. Not to be seen, not to show off, just to enjoy themselves. It’s amazingly uncool which of course makes it far cooler than anything which aims to be cool and the tennis is great. If I had to pick, I’d take that over Queens any day.  Nothing against Queens, but Halle has that unique charm. And better beer, better sausages and a catwalk. And we still have Wimbledon.

Efficiency over beauty. Thoughts inspired by a tennis match.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

Oscar Wilde, Lady Windemere’s Fan.

  Watching a particular point last week between Roger Federer and Rafa Nadal at the French Open semi-final epitomised the theory and concept of efficiency over beauty. For those of you not familiar with the technicalities of tennis, Roger Federer’s magnificent one-handed backhand has certain limits, i.e. his ability to compete when the ball bounces very high. The two-handed backhand, though less aesthetically pleasing – resembling more a cricket shot – is far more efficient in being competitive on the high bounce. One of the main advantages Nadal has over Federer – and other single handers like Stan Wawrinka and Dominic Thiem – on clay, at least, is his left-handed cross-court topspin forehand, which bounces at shoulder height to Federer’s right backhand. He simply cannot remain competitive in these rallies. My point? Someone like Djokovich can, as he uses the double hander. In other words, elegance and beauty have been sacrificed for efficiency.

'The winner takes it all'. 'To the winner the spoils. 'To win someone’s heart'. Winning is sadly but truthfully, almost everything. And certain tennis players understood this and changed tennis forever. Jimmy Connors and Bjorn Borg were the first two male tennis stars of the modern era to use the double-handed backhand. Traditionally, in both men’s and women’s tennis, the single hander was the go-to shot. These days, as I understand it, no women in the top 100 use it. In the 80’s, however, in men’s tennis, the one-handed backhand remained dominant, but by the 90’s two more world number ones, Jim Courrier and Andre Agassi had taken it on, profiting from the extra control and especially, defence, that the double gives. Fifteen years later, the only top ten single hander was Roger Federer. In the last fifteen years only two players have won grand slams using the one-handed backhand, Federer, of course and Stan Wawrinka. The rest of the so-called big four; Nadal, Djokovich and Andy Murray, all play with the two-handed backhand and the only other two players to win a grand slam since 2005, Marin Cilic and Juan Martin Del Potro, likewise. Less romantic, less beautiful but more efficient.   

Such is the way of things. Luckily for the romantics amongst us, the aforementioned Thiem from Austria and Stefanos Tsitsipas from Greece, tennis’ latest star – like a cross between Bjorn Borg and Barry Gibb in his Staying Alive phase – both play with the single backhand and both look like future slam winners, and maybe even before Nadal, Djokovich and Federer retire.

This sacrificing of beauty and elegance for efficiency isn’t limited to tennis of course, or other sports, for that matter. Formula One being an example. Obviously with Formula One, safety has also been an important consideration but anyone who believes that the contemporary version is more entertaining than the 70’s 80’s or 90’s is living in cloud cuckoo land. Equally, beyond sport, things have developed in a similar way. Passenger planes, like Formula One cars are more efficient, more automated and safer but undoubtedly less beautiful, inside and out. Has there ever been a more extraordinary plane than the Concorde? Extraordinary yes, but fuel-efficient? I fear not. Cars, similarly are more reliable but aesthetically? Let’s not even go there. They all seem to look the same for one thing. Clearly beauty and elegance are not the world’s priority. Profit and balance sheets trump aesthetics every time.

I’m working my way – very slowly – through a book called The Relevance of the Beautiful. It’s fairly dull, highly intellectual and having been written about 80 years ago, feels very distant from most of modern culture but when I do understand what the author is talking about it does makes me think about beauty, art and morality. In other words, the history of art, its origins, its place in our society. Yes, fairly irrelevant probably, in these days of Facebook, Love Island and The Fast and the Furious part 25 but what the hell. Beauty, sadly, may not be a priority but it inspires me every day. A rose, a sunset, Roger Federer’s single backhand. And it's free too. Just needs a bit of your attention. I’ll take that over a bunch of narcissistic cretins trying to get laid or some pointless celebrity on Instagram but I guess I’m in the minority. 

Oscar Wilde, I suspect, would have disdained modern trash culture but perhaps not have hated the perpetrators. Perhaps he’d even feel sorry for them, though he’d probably claim never to think about them. Them not being worthy of his energy. I’m trying not to hate them and certainly trying not to think of them. Art for art’s sake? I’m not sure about that Oscar but beauty for beauty’s sake? Certo, as they in Italy and they know a thing or two about beauty. Perhaps not so much about efficiency? And so it goes on. Oh well, it’s Wimbledon time soon. Green lawns and white shirts. No tennis shirts that look like they were designed by Jackson Pollock. Nothing wrong with Jackson, certainly but perhaps not for a tennis shirt. Keeping it simple. Simplicity, beauty and elegance often go together. I’ll take heart in that.