Sporting hero’s of my time

I think to be a great sportsman is a gift of birth, or perhaps a result of a combination of massive hard work, occasional and sporadic dieting and heavy drinking. First there was the extraordinary result in the golf earlier in the week when I won my first round of golf in over 2 years almost by a dog licence (7 and 6 – you have to be over a certain she to understnd that one -). Ok it was only 5 and 4 but there is no joke that I could think if in the final score.

Then yesterday I returned to the tennis court (twice as it turned out – I will come to that later). First I had been challenged by The Naked Politician to play singles. I am not currently at my most fluid best because of a slight stomach strain, which, had I lost, would have become a double hernia. Two years ago, when The Naked Politician had begun tennis lessons, he challenged me to a game of tennis, only to be dominated entirely by my slow lobbing game, being crushed 6-0, 6-1, the 1 coming only at the expense of an injury when diving to make a shot. Since that rout he has been playing regularly and has had several hundred tennis lessons, and was keen to play someone superior, such as my good self, to gauge his progress. He is a young man in his forties and as fit as a fiddle after several years of boot camp enrolments and the employment of a personal trainer. So, given these combined facts I was expecting a hard game. The result was a win for me by exactly the same margin; 6-1, 6-0. He started well, winning his first service game whilst I was still asleep. I would think that he should look long and hard at his tennis coach, who also, apparently, coaches his gorgeous wife Dawn. I am certain that the description of “long and hard” has not had anything to do with their faithful adherence to his coaching techniques, which do not seem to have advanced his tennis too much. Perhaps I do myself an injustice. Perhaps I am even more accomplished that I think?.

Anyway, returning home, with a smug triumphant expression, I took to my computer to finalise a deal for Currencies Direct, when the phone rang and I was asked by The Wingco where I was and more pertinently why I was not at the Vignale for the tennis match that had allegedly been arranged the day before. I pleaded ignorance and was prepared to swear on Banjo’s life that I had not had a conversation with Old Harrovian lout Largy about making up a 4 at tennis at 11am. However, it became apparent that I must have had this dialogue whilst under the considerable influence of rather too much wine in the Pav the night before. He was able to relate far too many details about events to which he could not possible be privy without the benefit of having had the alleged conversation to be lying.

That Nice Lady Decorator prepares for my successful home coming by sprucing up the web

Suffice to say that, after dealing with the Naked Politician earlier that morning, I was required to don my still sweaty tennis gear again and return to the scene of my earlier triumph and triumph again I against The Wingco and Dancing Greg Harris from Côte D’Azur Villa Rentals. I think the highest accolade came from The Wingco when he said “I had forgotten how utterly irritating it is to play against you with that slow lobbing game”. How humbling to be paid such great a compliment. Talking of sport, that very good sport Pat Coombs, wife of Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs, is climbing Ben Nevis for charity. I shall be making a substantial donation, and you can too by clicking on this link; http://www.justgiving.com/owner-email/pleasesponsor/Patricia-Coombs1

Chris France
@Valbonne_News