Don’t let Serena bully you into taking the fat shot
If the queen of tennis can no longer nail diet and exercise 101, then what hope for us mere mortals?
If the queen of tennis can no longer nail diet and exercise 101, then what hope for us mere mortals?
We could all learn from the man who swiped a player-signed hat from a little boy at the US Open
Sachia Vickery is shilling for an adult-content website while legions of girls and boys are watching her at the US Open
Columnist Sally Jenkins accused him of ‘belching up words’
How many more boutique mags can the sport bear?
King Richard reviewed
What should be on your radar this July
The crowd is brainwashed by celebrity, cheering for the rich and powerful bully rather than the shy and poor unknown
A casual pastime appealing to limited-mobility seniors develops big ambitions
Crying mental health and running away is ungracious as well as infuriating
Q. Our neighbours have a tennis court which, under the property’s previous owner, we enjoyed playing men’s fours on. The new owner is very welcoming and friendly. The problem (without sounding conceited, I hope) is that he is not up to the standard of the rest of us in the village who would like to play on his court. How do we politely say that we want to play — but not with him? — Name and address withheld A. What about one of your number inviting him to play golf? He will thereby have the opportunity to introduce the new court owner to lots of locals, or businessmen, or
Never has any so-called social justice movement in the past commanded such authority and instilled such fear
Battle of the Sexes recreates the famed, culture-changing 1973 tennis match between 55-year-old Bobby Riggs, a self-proclaimed chauvinist, and 29-year-old Billie Jean King, the world’s top female player who was out to liberate women and herself. (She was just discovering her true sexuality at that time.) Unless you happen to identify with Bobby — ‘Don’t get me wrong. I love women in the bedroom and in the kitchen, but these days they want to be everywhere!’ — this is certainly a great comeuppance film of the kind that will amply satisfy all your comeuppance needs. No complaints, comeuppance-wise. But it doesn’t run very deep, divides everyone into heroes and villains,
Borg vs McEnroe is a dramatised account of one of the greatest tennis rivalries of all time — between Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe (the clue was always in the title) — that doesn’t hit nearly as hard as it should. It does the job. It gets us from A to B. But it doesn’t dazzle. It doesn’t have the dramatic smarts to lend either surprising tension or excitement to otherwise familiar events, or shed any new light on them. It’s more the pt-pt-pt-pt of a stolid baseline rally and now, you will be thankful to hear, that’s it with the tennis puns. (I only had two anyhow.) The film