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May 13, 2023

Gods of Tennis, BBC Two: Wimbledon mavericks in all their glory

Settle in for a rollicking trip down memory lane to an era of volatile

Settle in for a rollicking trip down memory lane to an era of volatile weather and even more unpredictable players, including John McEnroe

New balls please. Gods of Tennis (BBC Two) is a sequel to hit 2021 series Gods of Snooker, swapping green baize for the hallowed lawns of Wimbledon. It might lack the seedy glamour of its predecessor but it's just as blessed with maverick characters and human drama. This rollicking three-parter, all available on iPlayer, revisits the golden age of tennis during the Seventies and Eighties. An era, the documentary persuasively argues, that changed the game forever. In 1973, Billie Jean King won an historic Wimbledon triple crown of singles, women's doubles and mixed doubles but still got less prize money than men's singles champion Jan Kodeš. She might have "played like a man" – and, indeed, beat one in the infamous "Battle of the Sexes" exhibition match – but King still got paid a fraction as much. It traces how this firebrand fought for gender equality and changed the face of women's sport.

Meanwhile, "gentleman rebel" Arthur Ashe brought racial injustice into focus as he became Wimbledon's first (and only) black men's champion. Sporting and social change have long gone hand-in-hand. Viewing the sport through the lens of the SW19 tournament, we see Chris Evert and Jimmy Connors become a celebrity couple – followed by Evert and John Lloyd. The fierce rivalry between "iceman" Bjorn Borg and "superbrat" John McEnroe took tennis onto the front pages. Teenyboppers chased both men down the street like they were pop stars. The first player in Wimbledon history to be fined for bad behaviour, McEnroe's on-court tantrums are equally entertaining 40 years on. This superlative series closes with an episode focusing on the mighty Martina Navratilova – her move from Czechoslovakia to America, her titanic battles with Evert, her sexuality, her struggle for acceptance and eventual hero status. So absorbing are the classic matches that I found myself getting tense, even though I knew the result. Lady Diana and Princess Margaret watched enraptured from the royal box. This was "brutal gladiatorial combat, disguised as a vicar's tea party". Racquets were wooden, hairdos were big, headbands were de rigueur. Archive vox pops and scene-setting newsreel provided a whoosh of nostalgia. These were the days of Dan Maskell and Barry Davies gracing the commentary box. A time long before the All-England Club installed a roof, so fans prayed for the sun to keep shining – not least because Cliff Richard might burst into song if it rained. It's all so evocative, you can almost taste the Pimm's and strawberries.