Apart from the tennis.....

"I could hear her squealing in the background, so I had to go back and give her a hug," said Wimbledon champion Andy Murray yesterday, after nearly ignoring his mother.  Using a word such as "squealing" says it all and not prettily.   

I watch the tennis, but I am also intrigued by what's going on in the stands.  Cameras pan to this box and that and what one sees is always revealing.  Like the fact that Andy's girlfriend and his mother sit as far apart as possible.  You only have to take one look at Judy Murray to have the fact that she is probably a complete b-tch confirmed.  Something about that nasty, rigid expression painted permanently on her face.................

You know, Judy, you're only half of the genes and chromosomes that make up Andy.  Settle down.  Where is the other half?  Where is poor old "William" Murray?  Kicked to the curb, no doubt about it.  I think I caught a glimpse of him a few years ago, high up in some bleecher stand or other, banished by Judy you can bet.  But he allowed it to happen, so only has himself to blame. 

Reminds me of the mother of B's children.  An enthusiastic advocate of immaculate conception, she tried to deny the father access at every turn until a genius, Dr. Arthur Leonoff, realized what was going on and stepped brilliantly in.  Joint custody was rare back in the early '80s, but that's what we were awarded, with the caveat that full custody would devolve to B, should the ex have difficulty with the arrangement.  You guessed it, she had "difficulty", so B was awarded custody of his kids, who visited their mother one day a week and every third weekend.  Should have left well enough alone, but some people are brilliantly expert at snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory.

I have to tell you that our lawyer, Bob Montague, and Arthur Leonoff did not know each other when B's custody case was decided.  Precedent was set, however, and the two subsequently teamed up, wrote a textbook on custody and lectured regularly at law school.  (See "Doubles", August 19, 2012)  I know they have been of great benefit to fathers everywhere, thanks to B's dogged refusal to be denied his children.      

I digress, back to tennis.  A number of years ago, when Andre Agassi won, his hitherto non-existent father popped up on the court and hugged him.  No one was more surprised than Andre.  Guess he was another of the father-off-the-Christmas-card-list variety.  Sad.

Back in 2004, B and I won the Tennis Canada draw for Wimbledon tickets.  "Are you sitting down," the woman calling from Toronto said.  "You drew the men's final at Wimbledon!"  I nearly dropped.  So, off we went to London and were privileged to enjoy the men's final between Andy Roddick and Roger Federer.  We had to buy the tickets, which I think were 500 pounds for two, but we got the seats.  This year I heard that two tickets for the men's final were going for $120,000!!!  Feature it! 

What a thrill it was wandering the hallowed grounds of Wimbledon.  B had played there many times when he was a graduate student in London in the sixties, but it was a first for me.  Had to have a "Pims".  Yuck.  As a scotch drinker, it was way too sweet, but I struggled through it.  Found it fascinating that the ushers were not rent-a-cops, but serious young members of the army, navy and air force.  And there was no fooling around with them.  A couple of young ladies who had become "overly-refreshed" were quietly escorted into an unmarked car and noiselessly whisked away. 

As to the facilities, there were more than enough ladies' loos -- a rarity in most places.