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.