Was I A Bad Sport?

I am the world’s worst sport. Every time I lose it kills me. Unfortunately I am not always able to control my temper.

This is something which has not endeared me to the British press. In 1953, it sparked an acrid brush with them.

I was playing Rex Hartwig, the Australian, in the men’s singles quarter finals of the Queen’s Club Championships. On rain-drenched turf, I had won the first set and was leading 4-2 in the second with a break point.

Following a brief baseline exchange I approached to his backhand and Hartwig returned hard crosscourt. I moved over to volley, then in the last split second let it go out, or so I thought.

The ball landed six inches wide of the sideline. “Game to Mulloy,” the umpired announced. “He leads 5-2 in the second set.” The point you need to know before I go further is that in those days, umpires did not overrule linesmen.

We changed courts, Rex stopping to towel off, so that by the time I had reached the baseline and collected the balls he was just starting back to the baseline on his side.

The Injustice

Then the side linesman suddenly stood up,…