Well Done Andy

So, my interest in the All England Tennis Championship - Wimbledon - is over for another year.

Having avoided watching any of the tournament up until yesterday I felt compelled - for reasons I've already touched upon - to watch the mens semi-final between Andies Murray and Roddick.

One thing that struck me - putting aside the 'partisan' elements of supporting one of the competitors or the other - was just how dull the match was.

When I last watched a game of mens tennis - some years ago admittedly, a time of Jimmy Connors, wooden rackets, tight shorts and headbands - it was rather like watching a fencing 'duel'. It was subtle, thoughtful, graceful even as players would frequently come to the net, then retreat, attempting to outwit their opponent through guile and cunning.

Yesterdays match had this feel about it I must say - powerful exchanges back and forth, back and forth, until one or other made a mistake. That is, the points that weren't decided by a huge 110 miles-an-hour serve that neither the receiver or the audience could see.

Furthermore, I was dissapointed by the reactions of the crowd. Back in the day (copyright The Savage Rabbit) the crowds were more generous - knowledgable? - towards the players. Yes there were favourites, but unforced errors were never greeted with such enthusiasm, such pleasure, as I witnessed yesterday.

The television coverage seemed poorer than I remember as well. Where before we had insightful, informed comment yesterday we were treated to a demonstration of stating the obvious. The individual responsible for the pictures we saw was celebrity obsessed: 'there's Sir Michael Parkinson', 'there's Sir Trevor McDonald', 'there's [some young lady who presents the news on BBC News 24]'.

I gave it a go ... it's not for me.