Wimbledon, and the lost joys of imperfect tennis

On a rain-soaked day in 1969, my father took me to a tennis match to watch ‘the greatest player in the world’. It was the finals of the US Open at Forest Hills, a suburb of New York. And being a journalist, my father had managed passes for the press box. What struck me now, more than half a century later, was the phenomenal change in the nature of the sport itself. Not just tennis but all sports.Medium108411583 The US Open had carried on through murky weather, and even in the rain-delayed final, Rod Laver played on wet grass, with balls that spun water droplets as they were hit. Through the match, the grass court got progressively muddier and more dangerous; still, the players continued to slip and slide, digging up chunks of grass at the baseline. The rickety wooden stands of barely a few thousand spectators remained packed as Laver overcame — not just Tony Roche with his superior play — but also rain, patchy grass, wet wooden rackets and cheap rubber sole shoes. His unbranded shirt earned him no endorsement money, but his win left him sweaty, smiling, wet, and richer by $16,000.As Wimbledon approaches next week, the world’s best players — Djokovic, Alcaraz, Medvedev and others — enter the rarefied air of the grassy arena. Toned by hyperbaric oxygen chambers, fuelled by gluten-free diets, and armed with tactical data analysis, tennis players are getting closer to a robotic perfection that gives their game a machine-like quality. One particular exchange during the recent French Open lasted so long even the spectators began to get restless. Backhands were returned with forehands, down the lines with cross courts, the rallies were sharp and shotgun-like, but neither player relented. Djokovic darted from corner to corner, in court coverage so brisk he looked like the nimble conductor of a Philharmonic orchestra. Every 20-shot rally was a reminder that his stamina came from a strict diet, the longevity of the point from time spent in the oxygen chamber. The exhaustion was always short-lived, and a few minutes later, another endless point started up again.Medium108411584 Such perfection in sport is both annoying and tedious. Why should audiences spend huge sums of money for long endless spells of boredom? In the 1970s, Test cricket matches scored very few sixes, but when these happened, they were remembered by an audience that remained transfixed for five days. Compare this now to six consecutive fly boundaries, where a batsman scores the perfect score in just one over. Basketball results similarly multiply into 100s. When scoring happens halfway across the court or in slam-dunk shots where players are so big they can put their hand through the hoop, the possibility of not scoring doesn’t arise. Given that players are tall and getting taller, should basketball hoop heights be reconsidered? By contrast, 90-minute football matches often end up with a final score of nil-nil. Should goal posts then be widened?The return of imperfection is crucial in bringing excitement back to sport. When players are themselves getting into the zone of perfect health, physique, stamina and skill, perhaps it is time to alter the rules of the game itself — widen the court in tennis, raise the net. Unless human vulnerability is expressed in sport, games will lack spirit and interest.The buzz at this year’s Wimbledon is missing because its most important participants are almost perfect, and lack vulnerability. When Nadal and Federer played, the uncertainty of their divergent chemical mix kept everyone guessing. Both were practitioners of unusual court craft, accomplishing shots with power or finesse, with grunting sounds or mercurial silence. The two stretched themselves into such angular court placements, the impossibly difficult shots they made were either extraordinary winners or absurd childish errors. They could be as good as God or as bad as a casual weekend player. The game’s unpredictability as the match progressed gratified the spectators, and kept them at the edge of their seats.That time has gone. In the past two decades when all three — Federer, Nadal and Djokovic — played at the peak of their careers, together they won 65 Grand Slam titles — a feat of rare explosive dominance. The extraordinary mix of their diverse talents would be tantamount to Tiger Woods, Jack Nicholas and Arnold Palmer competing at the same time. In individual sport, such rivalry comes but rarely. The end of that era is now being sadly mourned. Federer, already retired, Nadal on a perpetual injury list, only Djokovic remains standing. But for how long?It is unlikely that tennis will ever return to the imperfections of a Rod Laver match, or that World Cup football will be played without shoes; or for that matter, that diminutive players will be recruited into the NBA. But with humans now approaching competition levels with AI — even the commentary is AI-powered this year — the future of spectator sport may be a big question. Unless sporting arenas and regulations are changed, we may be in for perfect performances, but in empty stadiums.