Easy Sundy: "Tennis, anyone?"

Today's "Easy Sunday" post is a respite from politics.

It is part travelogue, a glimpse into British culture and manners. It is also a look at modern retirement in America among Boomers. "Tennis, anyone," is a cliche evoking the lives of prosperous people at leisure. Tony Farrell plays tennis and he got a chance to play tennis at the grass courts at Wimbleton, so of course he went there to do it.

Social Security and Medicare greatly reduced poverty among America's elderly. Farrell is in a cohort of active and prosperous American seniors living well off earnings saved during an era of abundance, shaped by generous defined benefit pensions for some, by bull markets in 401-K investments for others, and for rising home prices for most. America has created a leisure class. Farrell earned his success. He is smart, hard-working, creative, lucky. He is a college classmate who went on to the Harvard Business School, and then had a series of marketing jobs for The Gap, The Sharper Image, The Nature Company, and independent work creating TV infomercials. You have seen his work. He managed the Trump Steak marketing. You may have bought something "As seen on TV!"

Tennis is part of his life. It was part of mine long ago. I earned school letters in tennis in my youth. A red "H" and a black "M" lie at the bottom of a box stored on an inaccessible shelf. I haven't looked at them for 40 years, but haven't thrown them away, either.

Guest Post by Tony Farrell

Three weeks after Wimbledon ended this July, my wife, Kathy, and I were among 16 players from Berkeley Tennis Club (California) to be hosted by the All England Lawn Tennis Club (AELTC) for friendly matches with them. We were honored to play on the hallowed grass of Wimbledon, the sport's most revered shrine.

I’ll start with my most recent prior visit to England, in 2016. On Tuesday, November 8, election day, Kathy and I boarded our SFO flight to London at 6:00 p.m. Nine hours into the flight—still sealed off from the outside world and clueless about the election’s outcome—the lights came on; breakfast service began; and the pilot announced that Donald Trump had won. This sudden revelation elicited a few high-pitched cheers but a deep, funereal moan seemed to send a shudder through the plane. Remember, that June Great Britain had voted to exit the European Union. A dark time. The centenary remembrances of the Great War matched the mood.

This time, in 2023, the mood was sunnier. What struck me first was the festive, crowded, constant bustle of all of London; not only tourist areas but the neighborhoods we transited on our way out to the suburbs. Streets, sidewalks, parks, cafes, shops, all seemed at capacity with both vacationers and locals. An impressive sight, compared to San Francisco, where at 4:30 p.m. workdays, downtown is practically void of people and cars, with boarded up lunch spots everywhere. The Bay Area may have a diverse populace but not a diverse economy, and tech’s work-from-home shift has struck a mighty blow. London was a revelation.

Being from tiny tennis clubs, we were surprised to learn that the All England Lawn Tennis Club has only 500 members (tournament winners get in automatically) and only about 300 are active! But AELTC, the billion-dollar enterprise, has 350 full-time staff. The waiting list is, obviously, more than a century long and practically hopeless for almost all who are on it. After a thrilling croquet match (AELTC was founded as a croquet club) we learned there are only 20 active croquet players. While attractive, the Wimbledon grounds are massive; more like a well-landscaped industrial park than a typical club. Its management is divided between those who run the major annual tournament, and a much smaller staff who takes care of the few members.

Farrell with wife Kathy, daughter Morgan, and their new rescue dog.

Because of the down-to-earth graciousness and courtesy of our charming Wimbledon hosts, politics were never discussed. (No titting their Boris to tatting our Donald.) But it was interesting to hear of one London-based player who had left his home at 6:30 a.m. to take the train to Paris to catch two doubles matches at the French Open, and was home by 10:30 that night. Before Brexit, that was like going from California to Nevada; post Brexit, it was quite the hassle with passports, etc.

In London, plus in Scotland and Northern Ireland, Brexit remains a shocking disappointment; something as serious as it is senseless to be dealt with. Of course, Britain has always been contrary: Driving on the wrong side; rejecting the metric system. But, you know, now they have Euros (unlike the first two EU countries I visited, Sweden and Hungary, which retained their currency). Ultimately, I believe Great Britain will make non-treaty accommodations with the EU (like Norway and Switzerland) to adopt EU rules, and enjoy most benefits, without surrendering “sovereignty” as they view it. In any event, virtually all service staff, in hotels, shops, transit, etc., seem to be non-natives.

One chat I had with a former chair of AELTC signaled a consonance with progressive trends, when he lauded the accomplishments of the now-grown children of an immigrant Laotian family (one of whom is a senior umpire for their tournament). He stated that if one ever needed an argument for how immigration strengthens a nation, there it was.

After our Wimbledon treat, Kathy and I vacationed further in Hamburg, and found ourselves in the middle of a 100-thousand person Gay Pride march; rainbow banners flying everywhere. Again, quite lively and festive, with not one hint of animus.

 

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