4jul99

IT was all very old-fashioned in this modern tennis world where the  carnivores generally rule.

Todd Martin and Patrick Rafter were in the very crucible of their  quarter-final, either one a winner, when a stray ball from another court  bounced into theirs.

This is usually the stuff of weekend club tennis, not the finals of the world's leading tennis tournament.

But Rafter and Martin, victims of the rain-ruined days, had been pushed out to faraway Court 13, a friendly little venue bordered on one side by Church Road, on two others by outside courts, and at one end by hospitality drinkie-tents.

Martin served, Rafter returned what seemed to be a winner.

"It wasn't a real good serve," Rafter said later. "He hit it straight into my hitting zone, and I hit the return. I was really psyched and I came in to the net, and then Todd called let, and the way he said it I thought it was a kind of a joke."

No joke. A ball had drifted into Court 13 from another match nextdoor between four junior girls playing doubles.

Martin – who is a friend of Rafter – saw it and automatically called let, wanting the whole point replayed. Rafter, though, ardently and passionately believed he had won the point.

Martin said: "In leisure tennis, you know, it's my call. It's either player's call. But in our world it's the umpire's call, and the fact I had brought it up put him in an awkward position."

You can say that again. The umpire, hearing Martin's call, and seeing the offending ball, also called let.

But Rafter was having none of it, and called for the tournament referee. At this stage, both men were fighting for their lives, the match even at a set apiece, and all to play for.

Martin said: "As soon as Patrick called for the referee, I took a second retrospective look at it and I realised that he had hit a good enough shot, and if I hadn't spoken up the umpire wouldn't have said anything, and I felt it was my place to grant him the point."

Rafter said: "I went: 'No, no, no, this can't be a let' and then the referee goes: 'Let', and then I said: 'No' because he's got to call it straight away, and he said: 'No, I was reaching for my microphone' and I went: 'Oh, OK', then I guess there's not much I can say now, but I was very upset. But then Todd goes: 'No, no, you can have the point. I don't think I was going to get it anyway'. I said: 'No, let's just go with the umpire', and he goes: 'No, no, no, listen mate, I really wasn't going to get it'.

"What do I say then?"

Well, mate, you say thanks, which is what Rafter did.

"You know there was some really great sportsmanship shown out there by Todd, and it's sort of hard not to feel sorry for him in a way, because some of the calls he tried to overturn and that he did overturn were very nice. And then he comes and screams a few winners past you, and you go: 'Jeez, I thought I had him'."

So much was riding on this match, that you could only wonder at this kind of spirit.

On another occasion, Martin and Rafter had an amiable discussion about a serve, and Martin suggested the best way out was for Rafter to take two, even though his second serve had been called out.

"He was quite willing to give me two," Rafter said. "He said: 'Here, have two'. But I wasn't having that. I said I'd take one, maybe." Rafter said if he had been playing someone like Jeff Tarango, the fractious American everybody hates to play, he would have suspected mind-games were afoot. "But someone like Todd, there's never anything like that."

It was this kind of spirit that made the 151-minute match such a pleasure to watch. The mutual respect was always evident, as it should have been.

But you wouldn't have missed the adventures out there for all the Centre Court tickets in the world. It was an older and less rude world, and sportsmanship triumphed over foolishness. Both men behaved like the gentlemen we know them to be.