The Commentator’s Curse

Wimbledon is magical. Breathtaking skills on the most demanding surface, manicured courts, immaculate officials, knowledgeable and respectful crowds.

This year offered a men’s final of exceptional quality with 20-year-old tyro Carlos Alcaraz plucking Novak Djokovic from his perch. 

If only the commentators had lived up to it. Naively, I always thought the commentator’s role was to comment on the sport. Instead, the viewing public was treated to something more akin to Hello! magazine on grass.

Celebrities endlessly picked out from the crowd between points. Tittle-tattle about the rich and famous. Ball-by-ball centre-court sycophantism.

Some commentators are more to blame than others. John McEnroe, despite his reported £200,000 plus take-home pay for the two weeks, at least sticks to the point. Can you imagine Dan Maskell of old twittering on air about Brad Pitt’s youthful looks?

A Spanish friend and her family listened to the match on the radio on their way to Barcelona. I doubt the Spanish commentator had time for King Felipe’s stylish blue blazer.

A far more appropriate tone was set at the men’s wheelchair final. A thrilling encounter with Japan’s 17-year-old Tokito Oda beating Brit Alfie Hewitt. The admirably concise commentary tracked every spin of the wheel.