New Balls, please

Midsummer in Britain, late June and early July, always means but one thing to much of our nation of armchair sports fans- Wimbledon! It's over now, for another year, and there's a certain sadness at its absence.
2006 brought the usual mixture of hopeless hype followed by inevitable disappointment for our own top players, although Andy Murray looks a force to be reckoned with in future years and he's just nineteen now. But for anyone with an eye for good sportsmanship, the thrill of the contest- and a taste for strawberries and cream- Wimbledon is a delight. Even for the many millions who will never queue for hours to get a seat on the hallowed Centre Court of the All England Lawn Tennis Club (the croquet seems to have vanished from their official title) in London, SW19, it's the perfect way to enjoy the great outdoors, late into the balmy, sunny evenings, of which we've already had a great quota this year.

What a contrast, though, between the fair play of the tennis court and the dirty doings which so often characterise soccer these days. No sooner had we finished watching Roger Federer, the invincible Swiss, roll right over exciting young Spaniard Rafael Nadal, than the TV camera's attention switched to the Olympiastadion in Berlin for the biggest sporting contest of them all, the FIFA World Cup final.
If you've read my posting of 15th June, even if you didn't follow the tournament, you might not be surprised to know that England's national side later left Germany in typically disappointing fashion to the dreaded penalty shoot-out against Portugal. Ironic then that the world-beaters who made it all the way through to the final duel with a ball on the pitch last Sunday night also had their respective fates decided by the one-on-one method rather than the best of teamwork.
In the end of course, Italy emerged Die Weltmeister for the next four years, after France failed to show the flare that had brought them to the goal de triomphe eight years ago. It could though have been a very different story, were it not for the astounding antics of the incredible Zinedine Zidane who ended his professional career in "the beautiful game" with a sending off for the most obvious example of a foul ever witnessed, by head-butting Italy's Marco Materazzi. It later emerged, at least according to Zidane and a legion of Italian lip-readers who suddenly found themselves more precious than the gleaming golden trophy, that France's fading star had been provoked when Materazzi apparently made foul-mouthed taunts about Zidane's ill mother and his sister.

Nevertheless, idolised by so many and recognised as a footballing genius by all, Zidane later apologised for his actions because of the bad example it would have set to the many millions of children watching. At least in part, he redeemed himself and still went on to win the "golden ball" award as player of the championship. Perhaps, maybe and ultimately, all these pri-Maradonna players can recapture something of another very English attitude to sport: it's NOT the winning, it's the taking part- unfashionable though it may be to say it.

Sport at its best is about human beings stretching their God-given bodies to the limit in physical activity and mental dedication to their game. Somebody has to win, yes, by the very nature of competition, but this need not lessen the contribution of the losing opponent. Indeed, at Wimbledon the runners-up still take away a very handsome sum not to be sniffed at, but what's more creditable is the off-court admiration and affection that tennis players so often have for each other.

Perhaps this is closer to the spirit in which Christians "play the game". These days, we might not have to compete against killer lions but believers face every day the fatal attitudes of a secular society where it seems to have become so often every man for himself. Yet St Paul urged the early Christians on despite all provocation to run the race, for the prize which was theirs to be earned at the end. The only victory that really matters to Jesus' followers is that of love over hate. That is even strong enough to defeat death itself. The ball-whacking may have stopped for now, but making a whacking good effort to outlove the other man is a task of a lifetime. Love- All.