"You only have to listen." Cash, incidentally, not only played the straight man to perfection, he also played marvellous tennis, looking not far off the nick he was in when he won Wimbledon. "I'm not really in the mood for talking today, Lee," said Jacklin. #The court jester mansour bahrami professionalA professional sportsman can't let a court jester distract him from his purpose, which reminds me of the exchange between Tony Jacklin and Lee Trevino years ago, on the first tee at Wentworth as they prepared to contest the final of the World Matchplay Championship. And so, more to the point, did Pat Cash at the other end, dropping his racket and applauding when Bahrami played one particularly outrageous shot through his legs.Īt the same time, Cash made damn sure he won. Some might say that such antics have no place on a tennis court, but the Pimm's-fuelled corporate-hospitality classes enjoyed it hugely, and so did I. In fact Nastase followed him on to centre court and seemed plain boorish by comparison. More than anything Bahrami is the consummate showman. His early career was blighted when the ayatollahs unsportingly closed all tennis courts in his native Iran, but he has since moved no less a judge than Rod Laver to describe him as "the most naturally gifted player I have ever seen". On the senior tour, however, Bahrami is Jack Nicklaus and Lee Trevino rolled into one. The most enthusiastic line about Wilkinson, by miserably stark contrast, was that in 1993, the year he climbed to his highest world ranking of 122, he reached the third round at both Queen's and Wimbledon.īut then Mansour Bahrami was scarcely more successful on the regular circuit, never making much of a name for himself in a career which peaked when he reached, but lost, the final of the men's doubles at the 1989 French Open. At the age of 63, Bahrami's trick shots will astonish you Bahrami Tennis TrickShots MansourBahramiLike and Subscribe Life is Too Sports for more videos. Poor old Wilkinson (actually, at 31, not that old, in fact 26 years younger than the oldest competitor, Tom Okker) had the misfortune to be profiled on the same page of the handsome programme as Vilas, winner of the Australian, French and US Opens. The Marsh Classic is a so-called champions' event, featuring such flamboyant legends of the game as Pat Cash, Ilie Nastase, Henri Leconte, Guillermo Vilas, Vijay Amritraj and, er, Chris Wilkinson. In those days a racket would have cost about two months’ wages for my father.Still, sport is a great leveller and we were united by appreciation of the tennis. “I haven’t got any money to buy a racket. “But, Mansour, why don’t you play with a racket? Tennis is played with a racket, you know, not a broom.” She answered me with a tone both astounded and naïve: Sometimes I use a shovel but a broom’s better I can hit the ball better …” “Well, it’s better than playing with my hand. “Mansour, what are you doing? Why are you playing with a broomstick?” She knew me in the way that she knew all the kids at Amjadieh hanging around the entrance for the privilege of picking up the balls. In his early twenties, he was on the verge of entering topflight tennis when Ayatollah Khomeini ousted the Shah and swept to power. The one who arrived was a very beautiful woman, aged about forty: the wife of a big-wig. THE COURT JESTER takes us into another world and begins by telling us of Bahrami’s amazing childhood in Tehran when he began playing tennis with a broomstick handle at the bottom of an empty swimming pool. I was secretly hoping that there wouldn’t be a client coming to ask me to act as his ball boy. I, on the other hand, preferred hitting a ball against a wall with a broom, rather than lazing in the shade. Everyone was taking a siesta the shopkeepers would draw their curtains, and no-one reappeared before four o’clock. These really hot afternoons in Iran were rarely devoted to sport. One summer’s day, when I must have been ten years old, I was waiting for clients, not feeling too hopeful. Far from his family and in a foreign country, the young man has nowhere to stay, he wanders the streets of the city and spends his. A racket: what would I not have given for a racket? In an effort to win money, Mansour bets it all, and loses it.
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