That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
That Girl from Derwent has learned a few more things about prejudice since moving up North.
That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
First, let’s look at the case of Roger Federer, winner of fourteen grand slam titles (in a club of two, with Sampras) and a career grand slam, secured earlier this year with victory at the French Open which meant he has now won all four major competitions (placing him in an impressive group of six – Sampras never managed it).
He is widely regarded as the greatest tennis player of all time, and was the first person from Switzerland to stir such great emotions across the globe since Ursula Andress emerged from the sea in that white bikini.
Federer won Wimbledon for five years in a row, beginning in 2003 and going on to reach a sixth successive final in 2008, only to be beaten by Rafael Nadal in the tournament’s longest ever final, a mammoth match which lasted nearly five hours and was instantly recognised as one of the greatest games of the modern era.
Nadal finally usurped Federer as the top-ranking player in tennis last year, ending the muted maestro’s record 237-week reign, but with Rafa ruled out of this year’s championship through injury, the path appears clear for Federer to add another awe-inspiring achievement to his already considerable list of accomplishments.
With Rafa ruled out of this year’s championship through injury, the path appears clear for Federer.
Who could deny this historic victory to such a masterful player and admirable ambassador - of both the sport and his infuriatingly-useless-bottle-opener-purveying country? Och, our Andy, that’s who.
The frizzy-haired firebrand, whose surly demeanour has made him about as beloved of Britain’s occasionally tennis-mad population as the Germans (or the French; or the Swiss, come to think of it), is now the number two seed after Nadal’s withdrawal. Having already surpassed Tim ‘Nice But’ Henman by reaching a grand slam final (losing to Federer last year at the US Open), the pasty powerhouse stands a decent chance of glory, having demonstrated his improvement on grass with victory last week at Queen's, the traditional Wimbledon warm-up.
These two players are surely the most desirable winners of this year’s tournament. Third seed Novak Djokovic was recently overtaken by Murray in the ATP table and swiftly showed his gentlemanly spirit by complaining about the ‘cruel’ ranking system, and Nadal and Federer’s stranglehold on grand slam finals has meant that many would struggle to pick the rest of the world’s top ten out of a line-up. But who should we root for?
Poor old Henman was harangued for years as the country clamoured for a home-grown champion, with desire so strong that Scotland’s Andy Murray promptly becomes Britain’s Andy Murray around this time every year. The strawberries-and-cream cadre renamed their spectators’ spot from Henman Hill to Murray Mound even before Tim finally called time on his career.
But as cruel as it would be to rob Federer of such a fine opportunity to become the slammiest of them all – at least until the US Open in August – it would be far more appropriate to dash the hopes of good auld honorary Scots everywhere with another year of heartbreak.
It’s senseless to deny our status as a nation of masochists, more used to stoicism than actual success. The results of an actual sporting achievement are wildly unpredictable; Harold Wilson crowed that England only ever won the football World Cup when Labour ran the country, and Gordon Brown could use a similar claim on billboards in Scotland, where Labour’s percentage of the vote dropped by over five percentage points in the recent European elections.
Admittedly, Wilson did lose his next general election in 1970, but the cumulative relief that would be felt if Murray were to win Wimbledon could prove disastrous in an already precariously positioned economy. The loss of productivity caused by the street parties and jubilant celebrations could run into the millions, or even billions.
Best to throw our support behind Federer, then, and paint white crosses on our cheeks and wave our Swiss army knives in the air – OK, maybe not that last bit. Those snooty SW19 stewards are mad for a bit of health and safety harassment, after all.
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