Eugenie Bouchard is the 20-year-old Canadian tennis player, ranked world No 7, who, when interviewed at the Australian Open, was asked by commentator Ian Cohen to “do a little twirl”. Bouchard did so, bashfully spinning around in her pink dress, princess-style, then complimenting fellow tennis player Serena Williams on her outfit.
That would be world No 1 Williams, who had also been asked to twirl, as if the world of international female tennis was just one long girlie funky pyjama party. Thus “Twirlgate” was born. But within the context of tennis, and sport in general, is twirling – male or female – really so extraordinary?
Without question, this was blatant, unforgivable chauvinistic treatment of world-class female athletes. Twelve-time grand slam singles champion Billie Jean King said: “The Australian Open interviewer asking the women to twirl on court is out of line. This is truly sexist.”
Bouchard has since played down the incident, saying she doesn’t mind twirling if the men are also asked to flex their muscles, but she must realise that this scenario is somewhat improbable. Certainly, it doesn’t seem likely that Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal would ever be called upon to show off how pretty, or even how muscular, they looked in their shorts, or to comment wistfully upon how much lovelier the other man’s shorts were. Now that would be entertaining to watch.
While it would have been preferable for Bouchard to refuse to twirl, was it her fault that she was put on the spot with such an idiotic request, with the crowds watching and the cameras running? As it was, her blushing submission was what many young women her age would have done – most of us have to learn how to say no, to claw together the confidence to risk disappointing people by not being “fun!”. The sad truth is that, at her age, put into her position, I’d probably have panicked and offered Cohen a cartwheel too. That’s sometimes the deal with being a young female – you can be shocked or tricked into instant compliance, your people-pleasing buttons pushed, without you even realising it… until the bleak, self-hating aftermath.
However, there seems to be yet another element to this, regarding the myriad lucrative endorsement deals of top tennis players. Right now, Bouchard’s deals include a major signing with Coca-Cola, while Williams numbers Nike among her endorsements. Federer has deals with everyone from Nike to Rolex to Credit Suisse, while Nadal’s deals include Nike, Babolat and Mueller.
Of course, such endorsements stretch far beyond tennis into all major sports. Nothing new there – they are an established fact of sporting life. Pretty much all professional sports people, male and female alike, spend their careers striving not only to stay focused, hungry and successful in their respective fields, but also to look attractive, inspiring and aspirational for their sponsors and to keep hold of their mega-bucks, performance-related deals.
What is all this if not endless repetitive twirling – for the cameras, the public and, specifically, the sponsors? While it’s clear that a man wouldn’t have been asked, as Bouchard was, to twirl in such a degrading, infantilising manner, no top tennis player could pose as snowy Wimbledon-white. All of them are twirling all the time – that’s the nature of the game they’re in. Put into this context, Bouchard was simply unfairly asked to do even more twirling.
Is this a feminist issue? Sure it is. Then again, so are other pressing tennis matters, such as the fact that female players are routinely paid less than men. So far as twirling goes, Bouchard being asked to show off her dress was wrong and diminishing but, one way or another, there’s plenty of twirling going on all the time.
The other Dave is more interesting…
Has another beautiful political friendship bitten the dust? Many were thrilled by the bromance that sprang up between President Barack Obama and David Cameron during a recent Washington visit. The two men delighted western democracy with their rapport. For all those cynics out there, what’s so wrong with two international statesmen behaving in a manner equivalent to braiding each other’s hair, exchanging friendship bracelets and pinky promising always to sit together at summits?
Sadly, a mere week or so later, it could all be over. It appears that Cameron (presently following 382 people on Twitter) has been cruelly Twitter-shunned by Obama (who is following an amazing 645,000). While Cameron, following relatively few, is following Obama on Twitter, Obama, who is following many more, is not returning the favour. Instead, Obama is following another David Cameron, who’s based in Oregon and enjoys Star Trek and playing computer games.
Is this a major social media slap-down or has Obama made an honest mistake following the Oregon David Cameron instead of the British one – and is everyone just too upset to care anymore? Notably our PM, who according to completely untrustworthy and highly dubious reports is refusing to come down from his bedroom, where he’s repeat playing Taylor Swift’s I Knew You Were Trouble.
Let’s take a look at the PM’s rival for Obama’s affections. Oregon David Cameron’s recent tweets include asking for people to help him unload a moving van into a storage unit. Another tweet spoke of how he’d drunk two glasses of wine resulting in “a case of hiccups so bad I will probably pull a muscle”. Oh dear, this isn’t good. Without meaning to be unpatriotic, it does seem as though the Oregon David Cameron is far more interesting and erudite than our own.
Ta-ra Deirdre, the street is a lesser place without you
RIP Deirdre Barlow. I was so sorry to hear that Coronation Street’s Anne Kirkbride had died. Nor did it feel like some sentimental over-reaction. Kirkbride must have been one of the most recognisable actresses in the country; what’s more, she was a really good one.
Corrie fans know that, as Deirdre, Kirkbride could execute high drama and light comedy with equal flair. She was just as credible dealing with the turmoil of her affair with Mike Baldwin (the climax of which was famously announced during a Manchester United/Arsenal game at Old Trafford), as she was trying to get people to eat her terrifying-sounding signature “stuffed marrow” dish, or proudly showing off her appalling attempts at pottery. Moreover, few could match Deirdre when it came to the ruthless skewering of husband Ken Barlow’s over-inflated literary pretensions.
Behind those huge glasses, gargling-with-wet-tarmac voice, and what must have been the most expressive neck tendons in showbusiness, lurked a charming and gifted performer, whose presence will be sorely missed on the cobbles. So ta-ra, Anne: you were a damn fine actress and some of us already miss you.