Taking Sport to the Masses

Back when Henry's dad, Peter Alliss, was taking golf to the masses via the BBC's Pro-Celebrity Golf, the sport was considered elitist - very much for the middle and upper classes.

It had been that way for some time; for example, PG Wodehouse wrote 97 books - according to Wikipedia anyway, which also states he was Marilyn Monroe's father and the first man to sail down the Thames wearing nothing more than a flat cap - and while golf featured regularly in the outings of the minor aristocracy, the likes of football or boxing only merited a mention when one of the major characters ventured into the seedier parts of East London.

For most of the 20th century, sports such as football and boxing were the preserve of the working classes; the middle classes satisfied themselves with cricket, golf and tennis - co-incidentally primarily non-contact sports.

Actually being in physical contact with another person was obviously beneath those who would only engage in such shenanigans in the comfort of the maid's own room.

But times changed: thanks to Alliss Snr and the success of Tony Jacklin's Ryder Cup team in the 80s, golf suddenly became attractive to everybody; the sight of Chris Evert's well-turned calves and the bad-boy antics of John McEnroe, increased the popularity of tennis; and while Ian Botham is hardly a working-class icon, his pot-smoking and other off-field antics certainly endeared him to a new generation of fans, as an old-school tie was no longer deemed a prerequisite for a career in first-class cricket.

But the popularity of all these sports became a double-edged sword in the 90s - and the blade now cuts even deeper as the 21st century's second decade looms over the horizon.

The satellite broadcaster Sky threw money at football in England and the sport broke through a fiscal glass ceiling. Other sports saw the potential and wanted a piece of the action - and with a knowing grin Sky acquiesced.

Prawn sandwiches (copyright Roy Keane) became de rigueur at football instead of Bovril and Wagon Wheels and, as players' salaries increased to ludicrous levels, ticket prices were hiked accordingly, meaning it was no longer the working man's sport.

Now, if you want to watch almost any live sport you have to subscribe to Sky Sports, which, in theory at least, means that most sports are now the preserve of those with plenty of disposable income.

Which begs the question, how come you see more satellite dishes in the narrow terraced streets of Liverpool, Wolverhampton and Portsmouth than in the leafy suburbs of Esher?

Answers on a postcard please . . . or alternatively as a comment below. I'd be fascinated to know.

BUNKY

Success v Personality - A Difficult Choice

We're a pretty eclectic bunch when it comes to following sports here at Azalea Towers.

Obviously, as we spend a lot of time working in golf, we're all keen golfers. Football - the European variety as opposed to Gridiron - is another one which gets our juices flowing.

Indeed we have pretty much everything covered, as with Henry and Andy having had a public school education, even lacrosse, polo and real tennis get a look-in.

But of course, at the moment, the whole country's only interested in the 'I can't believe it's not real' tennis variety - the one at Wimbledon.

And watching Andy Murray's progress through to the semi-final had me feeling a little sorry for Tim Henman - not an emotion I ever thought I'd feel. It's a fair bet that the surly Scot will achieve more in his career than Tiger Tim did. If he goes on to win Wimbledon this week, the bookies will stop taking bets on the winner of the BBC Sports Personality of the Year award. And that's somewhat ironic, for Murray makes Henman look like Timmy Mallett.

He is devoid of any personality and must make the BBC sports interviewers long for the chance to ask the taciturn Gordon Strachan for a 'quick word' - "velocity" was the then Saints' manager's whimsical response.

What a trade-off we have to make for sporting success in this country - if we want to win something we have to endure a non-personality (Nigel Mansell); or we can put up with being a popular second and maintain the slapstick traditions of the British pantomime (Frank Bruno).
It's a tough choice and if Murray falls at the semi-final stage we won't yet have to make it.

"C'MON TIM!"

BUNKY

The First Thunderbug of Summer

Azalea Towers is on a farm. It's a delightful environment, with views across the South Downs.
However, it doesn't have air conditioning and at the moment that's a big issue. As the temperature soars to a level which could make Bowers' botox bubble there is an increasing demand for fresh air to be circulating.

There would be no debate over this were it not for Lee Todd, a man originally considered lost in a plane crash but subsequently raised by lizards in a desert environment.

Such an upbringing has left him impervious to heat - he's been known to wear thermal underwear in a sauna. But he claims he does feel the cold, even when the wind has as much life as Peter Viggers' political career and the mercury is pleading to be allowed to climb out of the top of the thermometer.

If he's in a good mood he'll allow one window to be opened just wide enough to squeeze a credit card through on its edge - and half-an-hour later, he'll don his coat just to make us all feel guilty.

Should he open both windows by his desk - an occurence as rare as Manchester City not being linked with a world-class striker - he'll start to complain that thunderbugs are invading his monitor.

At that moment, we know summer is truly upon us...

BUNKY

Hapanese Jacku

Farewell then Jacko
You were the Eighties' hero
But you were quite mad

BUNKY