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Patrick Middleton reflects on the fate of the British sporting tradition in the South of France.
The title of Patrick Howarth’s history of the British presence on the
Côte d’Azur – When The Riviera Was Ours, now nearly thirty years old –
was intended to be only slightly ironical. Within its pages there is
ample evidence that those who settled, or even merely visited, the
South of France behaved as the Victorian British seemingly did
everywhere, regarding any place in which they settled as a sort of
unofficial crown colony. They had, they believed, two benefits to
confer on lesser breeds: their religion and their sport. Although the
latter travelled much better than the former, in the British mind of
pre-1914 vintage the two were closely allied. Lord Harris, as Governor
of Bombay, claimed that the moral values instilled by cricket would
cure the Indians of Hinduism and so render their conversion much
easier. Here on the Riviera one Anglican cleric argued that rugger
would have “a healthy influence on those brought up as papists”.
“Bible and Ball”
Over the decades the Church of England’s activity has been steadily
reduced and none of its current representatives on the Coast would see
“converting” the French, by Bible and Ball, as part of his mission. On
the other hand, the sports the British introduced, with the exception
of cricket, have gone from strength to strength among the natives. For
a long time, however, the British largely played their games within
their own community. The Cannes Cricket Club, established in 1887,
never had a French member and is now long defunct. The dry soil made a
satisfactory wicket almost impossible; in addition, the pitch was next
to an ostrich farm and the birds would regularly run off with the ball.
Golf made its appearance in the early eighteen-nineties. The
possibility of round-the-year play brought many British families down
for the winter but the game made slow progress among the French. As
late as 1921, when Nice played Cannes in a twelve-a-side match, there
was only one non-British player. Much the same was true of lawn tennis
– devised, in more or less the form we know it now, in England in 1874
by Major Wingfield who gave it the uncatchy (and short-lived) name of
“spairistike”. The Nice Lawn Tennis Club was long dominated by the
British. In the nineteen-hundreds a rare French president was Charles
Lenglen, father of Suzanne, a future Wimbledon champion. The Menton
club, founded in 1904, simply refused to allow the French to join.
Yachting, too, was introduced to the Riviera by the British, and in the
eighteen-seventies Cannes was awarded the patronising title of “the
Cowes of the Mediterranean”. Rugger, of course, is another British
import. Its once reputed inventor, William Webb Ellis – his role is now
contested – is buried in Menton where he died a typically Victorian
early death from consumption.
Happily, and again excepting cricket, “British” games have long moved
out of their expat ghetto. These days anglophones who take them up will
find themselves playing alongside French enthusiasts. This is a welcome
development since there is no better way of integrating with a new
community than finding shared interests. “It’s more a person-to-person
thing,” one rugger player told me. “There’s not the same post-match
social life I used to enjoy in Leeds, but I’ve got to know a couple of
the guys really well.” Of course, France remains France and becoming an
active sportsman can entail an elaborate bureaucratic procedure (absent
in Monaco, by the way). Those who aren’t “licensed” can’t play. There’s
no avoiding it. Usually, though, when a new member joins a club he’ll
get help with the paperwork.
“A darker side ...”
There’s a darker side to this history. The old games are being
enthusiastically played but today’s adepts are far from accepting the
old standards of conduct. In both rugger and soccer amateur games here
are notorious for foul play; manners on the golf course and the tennis
court have notably worsened. As a British-born local golf pro put it to
me, “Most people these days act on Ben Hogan’s saying: nice guys never
win.”
From Reporter 110 - Aug/Sept 2005
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