EDITOR'S VIEW: Cresta pop, Marathon bars and a cry of 'chalk dusk!' The golden days of South Shields tennis
If a picture speaks a thousand words... then the words ‘You cannot be serious’ will feature prominently in this photo dredged from the Shields Gazette archives by Editor Richard Ord.
There was a time when Wimbledon fortnight began and I’d be out of the door, racket in hand, and heading to Readhead Park in South Shields for hours of tennis with my mates.
It was the days when Bjorn Borg, Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe were ruling the tennis roost. Arguably the golden age of tennis: Long hair, wooden rackets and, of course, “CHALK DUST!”
Not that there were grass courts with chalk dust at Readhead Park. Gravel maybe, but no dust. Tarmac courts and painted lines were the order of the day, as my permanently grazed knees through the summer would bear witness.
The courts those days reverberated with the sound of smashed rackets and petty outbursts from frustrated players aping that sulky, bubble-permed New York reprobate in a headband who dominated the TV.
Although, the outbursts on our courts would have to be kept for when the parkie (remember those characters?) was out of earshot or you would be ejected from the park.
Today, Wimbledon fortnight doesn’t have me reaching for the highly-strung Wilson racket or cracking open a fresh tube of tennis balls. The closest I get to the tradition of the All England Lawn Tennis Club is by gorging myself on strawberries.
Oh, the joys of Summer holiday tennis. Packing my haversack with a can of Cresta (‘it’s frothy man’) and a Marathon bar for energy, slipping on my Dunlop tennis shoes and heading off for hours of endless fun searching park bushes for balls we’d accidentally lobbed over the wire mesh fencing and lost.
Anyway, while chomping on an Aldi punnet of strawberries, I dipped into the Shields Gazette archive and found a picture that made me smile. The 1980 junior tennis competition line-up at Westoe Lawn Tennis Club - the Shields’ equivalent of Wimbledon.
Fairly certain none of that line up made it to Centre Court (well, to play at least) but one did manage to bag the ace Shields Gazette job. A frozen Jubbly drink to whoever spots me in the line up first. Ah, Centre Court’s loss was regional journalism’s gain… said no-one ever.
Are you pictured in this line up of youngsters chomping at the bit to question if the umpire was serious? Drop me a line and let me know what you’re doing now or, if you have a picture that evokes memories of South Tyneside in days gone by, then let me see it. I’d love to share it and start a conversation… loudly… while waving a tennis racket.