Rocket’s science

A chum was in Waitrose a year or two back, and was bending down with some difficulty to look at the sandwiches when he realised the sprightly elderly chap next to him, eyeing up the cheese and celery, looked very familiar. It was the greatest tennis player of all time, the one and only Rod Laver, the Rockhampton Rocket himself. They had a pleasant chat, for the Rocket is nothing if not affable, and Laver agreed to call my pal’s tennis coach and say: ‘Hi, it’s Rod Laver here.’ The coach didn’t believe him, of course, but it was true. When you saw the ecstatic reaction of Centre Court last week as Laver, now 80, was presented with a special Wimbledon trophy you realised how lucky we are that he is still with us, and still charming everyone.

He achieved the holy grail, a calendar Grand Slam of all the tennis majors, not once but twice: the first in 1962, the second 50 years ago in 1969. He won Wimbledon in 1961 and 62, and again in 68 and 69. The gap was because he turned professional in 1962 and professionals were barred from Wimbledon until the start of the Open era in 1968, a fact that seemed to cause great puzzlement the other day among the youthful BBC Breakfast presenters, for whom a pre-Open era seemed something from a distant galaxy. Not surprising really: a very different authoritarian age.

Without it, Laver would certainly have dominated the championships throughout the decade. He won 11 slams, an extraordinary 200 singles titles, and every Davis Cup he played in. He is perhaps the only men’s player who stands comparison with Roger Federer, something the Fed has acknowledged.

In a fascinating chat with the Telegraph’s Oliver Brown last week, the Rocket was scathing about the failings of the coming generation, such as it is, of male tennis players.