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      Boris Becker Returns to Germany After Release From British Prison

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      The tennis champion left for his home country after serving time in Britain for hiding his assets in a bankruptcy case.Boris Becker, the three-time Wimbledon champion, returned to his home country of Germany on Thursday after he was freed from prison in Britain, his lawyer said.The Southwark Crown Court in London sentenced Mr. Becker to 30 months in prison in April for hiding his assets after he was declared bankrupt.Mr. Becker’s lawyer, Christian-Oliver Moser, said in a statement that the former tennis player left for Germany after he was released from prison. “Thus he has served his sentence and is not subject to any restrictions in Germany,” Mr. Moser said.Mr. Becker, 55, was sentenced to prison after he was found guilty of four charges under the Insolvency Act in Britain, where he had lived since 2012.Neither Mr. Becker’s lawyer nor the British authorities said whether he had been ordered to leave the country.“Any foreign national who is convicted of a crime and given a prison sentence is considered for deportation at the earliest opportunity,” the Home Office, which oversees immigration in Britain, said in a statement.Under Britain’s Early Removal Scheme, foreign nationals who are imprisoned in Britain and are subject to deportation can be removed from the country up to 12 months before they would have otherwise been eligible for release. From 2020 to 2021, the Home Office removed more than 1,100 people under this program.After Mr. Becker was declared bankrupt in June 2017, he was legally obligated to disclose all of his assets so they could be used to pay his creditors. The London court found in April that he had concealed, failed to disclose and removed assets, including a loan of 825,000 euros (around $875,000) and property valued at €426,930.90 (around $453,000), according to Britain’s Insolvency Service.As he tried to fend off creditors, Mr. Becker made an unsuccessful bid for diplomatic immunity from the British courts in 2018, after the Central African Republic had in April of that year named him as its attaché to the European Union for sports, culture and humanitarian affairs.Nearly two decades earlier, in 2002, Mr. Becker was sentenced to two years’ probation and fined nearly $300,000 after being found guilty of income tax evasion in Munich.The court battles followed a stellar career in tennis.In 1985, Mr. Becker, then 17 years old, became the youngest champion in the history of men’s singles at Wimbledon. He won six Grand Slam titles, including three at Wimbledon, before he retired from tennis in 1999. He was a frequent commentator for the BBC at Wimbledon and coached Novak Djokovic, a 21-time Grand Slam singles champion, for three seasons. More

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      Tending to Grass, and to Grief, on a Tennis Court in Iowa

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      Mark Kuhn is hunched over, one knee on the ground, pulling dandelions from an otherwise immaculate lawn. With a small, serrated blade, he carefully carves tiny leaves from the turf, extracting as much of their roots as he can reach, and places them in a plastic container beside him. Dandelions, I learn, are as prolific as they are stubborn.Three days earlier and some 4,000 miles away in my native England, Novak Djokovic had once again held the Wimbledon trophy aloft on the most revered court in all of tennis. Meanwhile, I was driving the 1,926 miles from my adopted home of Oakland, Calif., to be here, on this tennis court, on a farm in Northern Iowa, standing next to Mark and his weed-filled ice cream tub.I kick off my shoes and stand barefoot like a child, taking in the Midwestern summer. The grass on the soles of my feet is warm and welcoming, and the morning sun undulates on the corrugated metal of the Kuhn family’s sheds and silos. I feel like I’ve been here before.Mr. Kuhn on his court. The idea to build it first occurred to him in 1962.My memories of early childhood are mostly vague: a muted palette of inconsistency and confusion, lacking defined edges or chronology. But recollections of summers, which were spent in rural Cambridgeshire with my grandparents, are bathed in the palomino gold of the August sun on fields as far as the eye could see, and in the warmth of the love I felt there. Every afternoon, a curtain of decapitated dandelion-seed fluff, churned up by nearby combine harvesters, would fill the lattice patio window, on its way to offering seemingly infinite new beginnings.It was here I discovered tennis — albeit watching, not playing. I was a resolutely unathletic child, one of my more enduring traits. In 1997, most British households had only five television channels, two of which ran wall-to-wall Wimbledon coverage for two full weeks, every year. I would normally have been at school in late June, but it was clear to one of my more perceptive teachers — who knew that I’d struggled in recent years with my grandfather’s sudden death, and with my father’s decision to leave to start a new family — that I was deeply unhappy at home and would be better off beginning my summer break early.From the comfort and loving safety of Nan’s sofa, I quickly became invested in the progress of Tim Henman, who made it to the quarterfinals. At first, it was because there was simply nothing else on TV, and the whiff of British success at Wimbledon tends to send my country into an inexplicably contagious fever. Ultimately though, it was Henman’s dogged determination that kept me hooked. An unlikely hero, his resolve was an unexpected ember of inspiration for a lost kid who was desperately grasping for something solid to hang on to.Two tennis professionals, Kiranpal Pannu and Nathan Healey, during a practice session.A group of ball girls lines up in a shed beside the court.A breeze flutters through the six-feet-tall cornstalks. Mark tells me the corn grows so quickly this time of year that you can actually hear it. I’m not sure if he’s serious, but I furtively prick an ear, just in case. The lament of a mourning dove is accompanied by the shrill urgency of a red-winged blackbird flitting between field and power line. At ground level I hear the occasional crunch of tires on the loose gravel road beyond the farm’s perimeter. Necks craned, passers-by peer for a better view of the All Iowa Lawn Tennis Club, as spectacular as it is incongruous, and a plume of dust forms in their curious wake.Exactly 20 years ago, Mark, together with his wife Denise and their two sons, Mason and Alex, began the laborious and experimental undertaking of building a grass tennis court on their farm on the outskirts of Charles City, Iowa. It took more than a year to finish.It was the realization of a dream the reluctant third-generation farmer had held since 1962, having become enamored of Wimbledon two years previously when he heard a BBC broadcast on his grandfather’s shortwave radio. Twelve years old and absent-mindedly doing his chores, Mark noticed the cattle feedlot he was standing in was about the size of a regulation tennis court. But it wasn’t until the sudden death of a close friend, some 40 years later, that he was galvanized to try to make his far-fetched daydream a reality.Mark plays on the court occasionally, but his main source of joy lies in the rituals of preparing it for others to enjoy. The All Iowa Lawn Tennis Club — a nod to Wimbledon’s home at the All England Lawn Tennis Club — is open to whoever wants to drop Mark a line to request a reservation.Mr. Kuhn operates his greens mower.With string guiding the way, the lines on the court are painted with a titanium dioxide compound.Mr. Kuhn measures the height of the net.The week following the 2022 Wimbledon Championships, Mark is preparing to host Madison Keys, a one-time U.S. Open finalist, for an exhibition tournament benefiting her Kindness Wins Foundation.Just after sunrise, using a greens mower, Mark meticulously crops one millimeter off the top of the grass in four directions, giving the surface its distinctive stripes. Then it’s time for his favorite task: marking up the court. After aligning the edges with string, he slowly paints the tramlines — one careful step at a time, heel to toe — with a brilliant white titanium dioxide compound. The net is then dropped and pulled drum-tight, until it measures exactly three feet in the middle.Tips for Parents to Help Their Struggling TeensCard 1 of 6Tips for Parents to Help Their Struggling TeensAre you concerned for your teen? More

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      Is Andy Murray About to Become Andy Murray Again?

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      Like Serena Williams, Andy Murray, finally healthy and fit, has given glimpses of yesteryear at the U.S. Open. Unlike Williams, he has no intention of walking away.Follow live as Serena Williams plays Ajla Tomljanovic at the U.S. Open.A Grand Slam champion, one of the great players of this era, battles back from the brink of retirement and major physical setbacks to challenge the best players in the world once more in the face of widespread — and justified — skepticism.It is the dominant narrative of the first week of the 2022 U.S. Open, with Serena Williams defying the dual tolls of time and deterioration to bulldoze her way into the third round.But she isn’t the only one.In his first two matches Andy Murray once again became the player no one really wanted to face, 10 years after he became the first man from Britain to win a Grand Slam singles championship since Fred Perry in 1936. Three years ago, he said he was flirting with retirement because the pain in his hip was so severe he struggled with simple tasks like putting on his shoes and socks.Murray was unseeded, has just one full human hip, and despite a desperate desire to reach the top 30 ahead of the U.S. Open, he endured a poor-to-middling summer on North America’s hard courts. He is 35 years old but seems to age several months each time he takes the court, judging by the furrowed brow and generally dour expression he usually wears from the moment he strikes the first ball. That’s to say nothing of the cranky dialogue he has with himself through nearly every game.And there was plenty of that Friday as Murray endured a frustrating — for him at least — four-set, 3 hour 47 minute loss to Matteo Berrettini of Italy, who beat him 6-4, 6-4, 7-6(1), 6-3.The loss came at a moment when Murray had grown generally pleased with his recent progress in this late-in-tennis-life attempt to recapture the magic that once made him the world’s top-ranked player during the meat of the careers of Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic, someone he has known and played against since they were top teenage juniors in Europe still years away from needing to shave.“My movement around the court is good right now,” Murray said after beating Emilio Nava, the 20-year-old American qualifier, in four sets Wednesday. “I feel like it’s not that easy for guys to hit winners past me, and I’m defending in the corners much better than I was 12 months ago here.”Even this version of Murray — the one who has been hovering around 50th in the world rankings for several months and who was outside the top 100 as recently as January — was a heavy favorite in that match. The win earned him a spot in the third round of the U.S. Open for the first time in six years.His first-round win over Francisco Cerundolo of Argentina, the 24th seed, was far less certain, given his recent form. It ended up being his first straight-sets win in a Grand Slam tournament in five years.Berrettini, the 13th seed, a finalist at Wimbledon last year with a hammer-like serve and forehand, presented a different level of challenge. Murray is very familiar with both shots. He and Berrettini often practice together, including a testosterone-fueled set two weeks ago as they prepared for this tournament. Not that it matters, but Berrettini said they were all even at 5-5 and played a tiebreaker, which he won, because other players had reserved the court and were waiting. (Yes, this happens to the pros, as well.)“I always look for players that have a strong energy, that really want to practice hard, because that’s what I like to do,” Berrettini said. “He’s one of those.”Berrettini, 26, is the sort of younger player at the top of his powers that Murray has rarely been able to get past during his five-year journey through debilitating pain and rehabilitation from two hip surgeries, the second a major procedure to resurface the top of the thigh bone and replace the hip socket and cartilage with a metal shell.Just when Murray seems on the cusp of the breakthrough he has sought long after many players with his résumé would have packed it in, some young buck like Berrettini gets on him, often in the early rounds of a tournament. With a ranking as low as his, the protection of a high seeding remains elusive.The losses create a dispiriting cycle. Without matches and wins, he can’t improve his ranking, currently No. 51. And without a higher ranking, he has to leave his fate up to the luck of the draw. If it doesn’t go his way and he loses a hard-fought early match to a big-time opponent, his ranking does not improve, which often leads to more draws with opponents who have proved too tough.There would seem to be every reason to not deal with the headaches and frustrations that come with being an aging, formerly sublime professional. For so long, Murray’s creativity, touch and ability to spin the ball every which way, combined with his blazing speed, power, and never-give-up defense, made for can’t-miss tennis.Murray, right, in a practice session with the coach Ivan Lendl ahead of the U.S. Open.Julian Finney/Getty ImagesHe has earned nearly $63 million in prize money, plus tens of millions more in sponsorships. Prince Charles knighted him in 2019. In Britain, he’s basically a Beatle. He has four children. It eats at him that he is saddling his wife, Kim Sears, with the bulk of the responsibility of caring for the children while he trots across the globe chasing what he once had, especially when he’s winning only a little more than 60 percent of his matches.He is also not the type to live in denial.“At times this year I have, you know, not felt amazing in terms of where my game has been at,” he said Wednesday.Entering Friday, his body was where he wanted it to be. Two years ago he could barely walk after a five-set, first-round win. Recovery, even from the toughest matches, is no longer an issue and he does not think about his hip much. And then he gives a top player all he can handle, and the thing he wants feels not so far away, even if it might be.Murray had just four chances to break Berrettini’s serve Friday. Berrettini had 15 chances to break Murray’s.Murray has brought Ivan Lendl, the eight-time Grand Slam champion of the 1980s, back into his coaching ranks. Lendl was there when Murray was at his best. He preaches a simple brand of tennis, pushing Murray to unleash his power and finish points when the opportunity presents itself instead of complicating matters with trickery and deception. Don’t think — just hit.But even the best mechanic needs a car in prime condition to be successful, something Murray knows as well as anyone.“I’ve got a metal hip,” Murray said after Friday’s loss. “It’s not easy playing with that. It’s really difficult. I’m surprised I’m still able to compete with guys that are right up at the top of the game. Matches like this, I’m really proud that I have worked myself into a position where I’m able to do that.”It is quite a feat. In fact, Murray considers himself something of a lab rat in an experiment (though he has no idea when it will end). A few years back, some very smart people told him he would once again be able to play tennis but not compete professionally. Now he is trying to see just how wrong he can prove them have been.“That was nonsense,” he said, as he looked forward to playing in team competitions for Britain later in the year. “I want to see how close I can get back to the top of the game.” More

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      in Soccer

      Hello, World. It’s Been a While.

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      On the pleasures and pains of joining up with other people after a long, quiet time in the Covid doldrums.I am traveling on a train, reading a book, glad to be alive.Reading a book while traveling on a train is my favorite thing to do in the world; the well-being derives from staring out the window as the scenery rushes past, knowing that if I drop my eyes a book will be there to catch them. This is as good as it gets. Or better.Today, the book is Rupert Everett’s “To the End of the World,” the actor’s characteristically waspish diary of the making of his directorial debut, “The Happy Prince,” a film in which he also cast himself in the lead role of Oscar Wilde. It is not yet 9 a.m., and I find myself alone in the rear carriage with “something sensational to read in the train.” I am not merely glad to be alive; I am jubilant.For obvious reasons, over the last couple of years there hasn’t been much opportunity to do my favorite thing in the world. Today I am doing it en route to London, where I am going to do my second favorite thing in the world: sit in a darkened room all day with strangers — and a few friends — watching old films and television programs.To mark the centenary of the birth of the pioneering British writer Nigel Kneale, the Picturehouse cinema in Crouch End is hosting a daylong celebration of his work. There will be screenings of shows like “The Quatermass Experiment: Contact Has Been Established” (1953) and “Murrain,” a rare episode of the little-seen television series “Against the Crowd” (1975). There will be panel discussions with experts from the British Film Institute and a reading of a “lost” radio script by Kneale. In something of a coup for the organizers, the actress Jane Asher has agreed be quizzed about her part in the folk-horror classic “The Stone Tape” (1972).I fully anticipate the sort of event where audience members shout “WOW!” when shown a comparative presentation of digitally upgraded 35-millimeter film stock. Not only am I jubilant, therefore; I am actively jubilating.The first fans of Arsenal Football Club to join the train do so at Sittingbourne. Six ruddy-faced men in red and white replica shirts settle themselves nearby, noisily opening cans of strong lager they pronounce to be palatable — no, not palatable, delightful! — though not in those exact terms. It is 9:08 a.m.As I get up to move seats, trying not to draw attention to myself, I recall that, as a writer, Nigel Kneale was fascinated by the tension between the individual and the crowd, a tension I feel squarely between my shoulder blades as I exit the carriage.The same thing happens at Rainham, the next stop down the line, and again I get up to see if I can find a quieter seat. Ever more Arsenal supporters join the train, bantering and shouting and proposing a morning toast to their team’s fortunes with Special Brew. (In a few hours’ time, Arsenal will play a football match against a rival team called Manchester United, hence the influx of “Gooners” this early in the day.)With all this commotion, I am finding it increasingly hard to focus on “To the End of the World” by Rupert Everett. “I love trains,” he writes on page 282. “Oscar is all about trains and absinthe.” I try adopting a Wildean attitude toward my fellow passengers. After all, what is Special Brew if not the absinthe of the masses?But when, at Chatham, I have to relocate for a fourth time, I do so petulantly. The little metal tray table in front of me bleats tinnily as I jab it back into place. I hasten from the scene muttering failed epigrams. When I plonk myself down again, two carriages along, I realize I have misplaced my glasses, without which I cannot read a word, and I feel too embarrassed to go back and look for them. This is a fugue of my favorite thing.Most discussions of whether it is better to travel or to arrive fail to take into account a third option, which is that perhaps it would have been better to stay at home. In common with many people, I have found it more difficult to return to the world than I had thought I would in the doldrums of 2021. Was everything always this tiring? Another epigram bubbles up: “What’s the point of going out? We’re just going to wind up back here anyway.” Thank you, Homer Simpson.I may not be able to read my book, but I can still gaze out of the window. Rochester Castle, with its 12th-century keep, glides past, and already there are children playing on the grounds. We cross Rainham Marshes and I spot scattered groups of bird-watchers who have been at it since dawn. Coronavirus remains rife; the economy is lurching out of control; the planet is on fire; there is war in Europe. As more travelers join the London service, some bound for the football, others to go shopping at Westfield Stratford, it occurs to me that no one on this train is ever going to return to normal, because normality isn’t where we left it. But who would blame us for trying?As if to confirm this unexpected epiphany of fellow feeling, a tap comes on my shoulder. I look up. Holding out my glasses to me is a man in an Arsenal shirt.Later, safe in the dark of the Crouch End Picturehouse, there will be a screening of “Quatermass and the Pit” (1967), the film adaptation of Kneale’s 1958 teleplay. The original version concludes with words from Professor Bernard Quatermass delivered amid the smoking ruins of the capital city: “Every war crisis, witch hunt, race riot and purge is a reminder and a warning. We are the Martians. If we cannot control the inheritance within us, this will be their second dead planet.”I’ve seen this film before. I go to the pub instead.Andy Miller More

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      in Soccer

      ‘Wagatha Christie’ Trial, a British Spectacle, Ends: There Was No Libel, Judge Finds

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      The High Court in London ruled against the plaintiff, Rebekah Vardy, putting an end to a legal feud that turned into a reality-show-style event.LONDON — It began as an Instagram-related quarrel between the spouses of two British soccer stars and grew into a libel trial that provided a welcome distraction for a nation in turmoil.The High Court on Friday brought an end to the long-running legal feud by ruling against the plaintiff, Rebekah Vardy, saying that she had not been defamed by her former friend Coleen Rooney.In the verdict, Justice Karen Steyn ruled that the reputational damage suffered by Ms. Vardy did not meet what she described as “the sting of libel.” For that reason, she stated in a written decision published on Friday, “the case is dismissed.”With its combination of low stakes and high melodrama, the dispute between Ms. Vardy and Ms. Rooney did not amount to the trial of the century. But the case attracted months of overheated tabloid coverage at a time when Britain was navigating a stubborn pandemic and a struggling economy while its prime minister was on the ropes.The legal dispute was between Ms. Vardy, the wife of the Leicester City striker Jamie Vardy, and Ms. Rooney, who is married to the former Manchester United star Wayne Rooney. The women belong to a group known as WAGs, a common, if sexist, tabloid acronym for the “wives and girlfriends” of professional athletes, particularly Premier League footballers.In 2019, Ms. Rooney suspected that a follower of her private Instagram account was selling information about her, gleaned from her posts, to The Sun, a Rupert Murdoch-owned London tabloid known for its pungent celebrity coverage. To suss out the supposed leaker, Ms. Rooney set a trap: She made her Instagram Stories visible only to Ms. Vardy and used the account to plant false information about herself. Then she waited to see if it ended up in the press.At the end of her monthslong sting operation, Ms. Rooney claimed that Ms. Vardy was the culprit. She leveled that accusation in a social media statement in the fall of 2019 that was widely shared. Because of her sleuthing tactics, Ms. Rooney became known as “Wagatha Christie,” a mash-up of WAG and Agatha Christie, the 20th-century mystery writer.Rebekah Vardy left the Royal Courts of Justice in London in May.Toby Melville/ReutersMs. Vardy issued a swift denial that she was the leaker. She then said that she had hired forensic computer experts to determine whether anyone else had access to her Instagram account. In June 2020, after failed mediation, Ms. Vardy filed a defamation lawsuit against Ms. Rooney in High Court, which oversees high-profile civil cases in Britain.This May, it went to court. The proceeding, formally called Vardy v. Rooney, became known as the Wagatha Christie Trial. The term was so common that it appeared in crawls on Sky News right next to “War in Ukraine.”Tabloid photographers and cable news correspondents flocked to the steps outside London’s Royal Courts of Justice for the nine-day event, which proved to be a fashion spectacle as much as whodunit.Ms. Vardy, 40, arrived in an assortment of finery, including a buttery yellow tweed suit by Alessandra Rich and an Alexander McQueen blazer. On her left foot, Ms. Rooney, 36, wore a medical boot, an ungainly plastic device that she paired with a Chanel loafer, a Gucci loafer and a Gucci mule. She had sustained a fracture in a fall at her house.Ms. Vardy testified for three days. “I didn’t give any information to a newspaper,” she said under questioning early in her testimony. “I’ve been called a leak, and it’s not nice.”The trial had plenty of TV-worthy plot twists. It was revealed in court that laptops were lost and that WhatsApp messages between Ms. Vardy and her agent, Caroline Watt — which apparently disparaged Ms. Rooney — had mysteriously disappeared. Ms. Vardy’s lawyer added that Ms. Watt had “regrettably” dropped an iPhone containing WhatsApp messages into the North Sea. Ms. Rooney’s lawyer, David Sherborne, replied that the mishap seemed to have resulted in the concealment of evidence.“The story is fishy indeed, no pun intended,” he said.Ms. Vardy told the court she could “neither confirm nor deny” what exactly had happened to her missing digital data. At another moment, she began a response with the phrase “if I’m honest,” causing Ms. Rooney’s barrister to snap: “I would hope you’re honest, because you’re sitting in a witness box.”The case drew so much media attention because WAGs — like the players on the “Real Housewives” franchise in the United States — loom large in the British cultural imagination. They are photographed constantly. They star in reality shows and have their own fast-fashion lines and false-eyelash businesses. A TV series inspired by their shopping habits, feuds and love lives, “Footballers Wives,” was a hit in the early 2000s.WAGs had a breakthrough moment in 2006, when a group of them enlivened the staid resort town Baden-Baden during that year’s World Cup, which took place in stadiums across Germany. The ringleader was Victoria Beckham, who had risen to fame as Posh Spice in the Spice Girls before marrying the great midfielder David Beckham. Also on the trip: the 20-year-old Coleen McLoughlin, who was dating Mr. Beckham’s teammate, Mr. Rooney, and would later marry him.The tabloids ate it up. Reports from Baden-Baden told of WAGs singing “We Are the Champions” from a hotel balcony, dancing on tabletops and chugging Champagne, vodka and Red Bull into the wee hours. In the daytime, the women went on epic shopping sprees and sunbathed as the paparazzi snapped away.When England lost in the quarterfinals to Portugal, some sports pundits unfairly blamed the WAGs for the defeat. Predictably, the tabloids that had made them into celebrities tried to tear them down. “The Empty World of the WAGs” was the headline of a finger-wagging piece in The Daily Mail.Years later, Wayne Rooney and Jamie Vardy played together for England, which added to the delicious awkwardness of the recent court proceedings.The trial fit snugly into a culture that sometimes revels in images of how foolish it can be — see also the popular TV show “Love Island.” It also touched on betrayal and lies, which were defining themes in Britain as Prime Minister Boris Johnson incurred fines for breaking lockdown rules, then announced that he would step down after his party pushed him out over other deceptions.The trial also presented the complexities of the British class system. Online jokes from those following the case homed in on Oxford-educated lawyers reading aloud text messages filled with profane terms from women who are often dismissed as shallow or “chavvy,” to borrow a word Ms. Vardy used in reference to a cousin of Mr. Rooney’s.Unlike this year’s other high-profile celebrity court battle, Depp v. Heard, these proceedings were not streamed live, which added to the appeal. Old-school courtroom sketches made the parties look like a potato, the moon and, according to one commentator, “Norman Bates’s mother.” More

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      in Golf

      To Win the British Open, You Have to Go Through the Road Hole

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      Some say the 17th hole on the Old Course at St. Andrews is the hardest in the world. Many championship dreams have died there.Forty-four summers ago, Tommy Nakajima of Japan was in the hunt during the third round of the 1978 British Open. On the Old Course at St. Andrews — where the tournament will be staged once again this week — Nakajima knocked his second shot onto the putting surface at No. 17, a par 4 known as the Road Hole. Mission accomplished.Nakajima would now likely make a par, or bogey at the worst, on one of the most intimidating holes in professional golf.His putt, however, made its way down the wrong slope, taking an unfortunate left turn into a pot bunker with remarkably high side walls. But his troubles were just beginning. From there, Nakajima needed four shots to get the ball onto the green. He ended up recording a nine on the hole, ruining any real hopes of winning the claret jug. He would finish the tournament in a tie for 17th.Tommy Nakajima’s putt found its way into the pot bunker beside the Road Hole during the 1978 British Open, ruining any real hopes of winning the competition.Peter Dazeley/Getty ImagesNakajima’s playing partner in that third round was Tom Weiskopf, who had won the 1973 British Open.Before Nakajima hit his first putt, Weiskopf said to his caddie, “He better be careful,” Weiskopf recalled.Nakajima’s collapse, as crushing as it was, has hardly been the only calamity on the Road Hole, so named because it’s next to a road.“There are a lot of things that can go wrong on this hole,” said Nick Price, who won the British Open in 1994. “It’s like walking through a minefield.”In 1984, Tom Watson found the road. He was aiming to win the tournament for the third consecutive time. Such a victory would be his sixth title in the Open; he would tie the record held by the British golfer Harry Vardon. However, Watson’s dream would soon be history.In 1995, Italy’s Costantino Rocca, in a four-hole playoff against John Daly, needed three shots to get out of the bunker. That was it for him.The first challenge for players at No. 17 — which was lengthened in 2010 to 495 yards from 455 — is to navigate a treacherous blind tee shot, meaning players can’t see the landing area on the fairway because the view is blocked by a green shed on the right.The preferred landing spot is on the right side of the fairway, but if the ball veers too far right, it might end up out of bounds. Players will typically set their target, depending on the wind, for one of the letters on a sign on the shed that reads: Old Course Hotel. Sometimes, balls hit the hotel itself.No wonder a lot of golfers play it safe by aiming left, but that approach isn’t foolproof, either.“There are a lot of things that can go wrong on this hole,” Nick Price, the winner of the 1994 British Open, said of the 17th hole. “It’s like walking through a minefield.”Phil Sheldon/Popperfoto, via Getty ImagesIf you go into the rough on the left, “you’ve got a terrible angle to the pin and a terrible angle to the front edge of the green,” said David Graham, a two-time major champion.Wherever that first shot ends up, the next shot is just as daunting.“The last thing you want to do is go on the road,” Tony Jacklin, who won the 1969 Open at Royal Lytham & St. Annes Golf Club in England. “The best you can expect to do with a second shot is go for the front part of the green. I don’t care how in command of your game you are. You can’t guarantee hitting that green in two.”As Tom Watson knows too well.During the 1984 Open, Watson was tied with Seve Ballesteros when he sent his drive at 17 to the right. He hit it far enough to clear the wall of the hotel, but the ball wound up on a steep slope.“The shot you want to play to that green is a low-running shot,” Watson said. “You can’t do that from a severe upslope.”He flew his two-iron approach about 30 yards to the right, the ball coming to a rest on the road close to a stone wall. With an abbreviated backswing, Watson managed to get the ball to within 30 feet of the flagstick. He could still save par.Before he putted, however, Watson recalled, “All of a sudden, I hear this roar at the 18th hole. I look up and there’s Seve with his fist up in the air. I said, ‘Uh-oh, I’ve got to make this putt and birdie the last hole.’” When he didn’t make the putt, Watson knew it was over. He lost by two shots and never won another claret jug.Watson, who played in the Open at St. Andrews on eight occasions, strongly advises against challenging the back or middle part of the green.“If you really play it smart,” he explained, “you never try to hit it more than 20 or 30 feet onto the surface of the green. Try to two-putt for your par and get out of there.”Or maybe not go for the green at all.In the 1990 Open, which he won, Nick Faldo laid up short of the putting surface on 17 in three of the four days, including the final round. Leading by five shots and 215 yards away, he saw no reason to take any chances. Faldo walked away from the hole with a bogey. Earlier in that same round, Peter Jacobsen had needed three strokes to move the ball 30 yards from the rough at No. 17, recording an eight.In 1984, Ballesteros seemed to approach the hole as if it were a par 5, hoping to make no worse than a bogey. Price, the 1994 British Open winner, expressed a similar sentiment.“If it was really into the wind, I’d lay up with a four or three iron and then chip up,” Price said. “If I made 4, I made 4. I wasn’t going to make six, seven or eight, that’s for sure.”Players who strive to avoid the road over the green must also be wary of the pot bunker to the hole’s left.Andrew Milligan/PA Wire, via Associated PressThat the hole comes so late in the round, with a championship possibly at stake, makes the challenge even more formidable. In 2015, the last time the Open was held at St. Andrews, the Road Hole ranked as the most difficult hole, with the players averaging 4.655 strokes.Over the course of the entire tournament, there were only nine birdies on 17, while there were 217 bogeys and 32 double bogeys there.“It’s nearly impossible to make a birdie even once in four days,” Graham, the two-time major champion, said. “If you do, it’s a long putt.”Bernard Darwin, the English golf writer and accomplished amateur, perhaps put in best in describing the elusive green on the Road Hole. He wrote that it “lies between a greedy little bunker on one side and a brutally hard road on the other. Many like it, most respect it, and all fear it.” More

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      Andy Murray’s Measured Voice and Stellar Career

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      He has won three majors, but a bad hip almost ended his career. Surgery allowed him to return.Andy Murray has no shame. He permits his three daughters to give him manicures and dons fairy wings during playtime. He recently posted a picture of himself in a too-small dinosaur costume and another wearing mouse ears and posing with Mickey. When his tennis shoes — and the wedding band he had tied to the laces — disappeared and then suddenly reappeared last year, Murray admitted that they still smelled stinky.But on the tennis court, Murray, 35, is no joke. Since turning pro 17 years ago, the former world No. 1 has often been hailed as one of the hardest-working pros on the ATP Tour. Though sometimes stymied by Novak Djokovic, Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, Murray has reached 11 major finals, winning the United States Open in 2012 and Wimbledon in 2013 and 2016. He also twice won Olympic gold in singles and led Britain to the Davis Cup in 2015.Murray has also emerged as one of the most measured voices in the sport, a champion for women’s rights and gay rights and prize-money equity. Hip surgery nearly ended his career in 2018. Instead, it has prolonged it.The following interview, conducted via email, has been edited and condensed.Murray on June 3 in a quarterfinal match against Brandon Nakashima at the Surbiton Trophy tournament in England. Matthew Childs/ReutersIt’s been 10 years since you reached your first Wimbledon final. What stands out most?There were a lot of highs and lows during that tournament. One thing I remember clearly was the pressure as it got closer to the final. I don’t think I appreciated how much it meant to the people of the U.K. to have a British man in the final. But my main takeaway was losing to Roger [Federer]. I was really close, and I wanted to win so badly. I felt like I let people down.You’ve played 70 matches there since your first in 2005. Which one resonates the most with you, and which one would you most like to replay?The match that resonates the most is when I first won the championship in 2013, but that is also the match that I would most like to replay. It was such a blur. I can’t remember hitting that final ball or climbing up through the crowd to the box even though I’ve seen it replayed a lot.If you were devising the greatest player in history, which stroke or trait of yours would make the list?If I had to choose a stroke it would probably be my lob, which has won me quite a few points over the years. Or my determination, which has enabled me to come back from serious injury and keep on improving.Is your greatest tennis accomplishment that you were able to return to top-level singles with a metal hip?I don’t know if I’d say that’s my greatest tennis accomplishment. I wish I hadn’t had to go through the hip operations. I had some dark days during that period, and it was certainly a time I had to dig deep to make it through to the other side.Murray signing autographs after a training session during the 2019 Western & Southern Open in Mason, Ohio.Matthew Stockman/Getty ImagesYour support of equity and inclusion is well documented. Where does that come from, and do you treat your son differently from your daughters?My parents are both compassionate people, and they always encouraged us to treat everyone with respect. I treat my children exactly the same, and I hope they grow up as part of a generation that won’t have barriers or discrimination based on sex or sexual orientation. We’re not there yet, which is why I speak out.Is this your last Wimbledon? If so, how do you want to be remembered there?I hope not. I don’t feel like I’m done yet. I hope I’ll be around for a few more years. I’d like to be remembered for being myself. I don’t think I always fit the mold of what a tennis player should be like, and I know I can get frustrated on the court, but I have always tried to be true to who I am and what I believe. I know at the end of my career I will have given absolutely everything, and that’s all you can do. More