This is a minor article from The Kadina and Wallaroo Times, 11 May 1927.
[Note: the Irish slang word "shimozzle" used below signifies
a disagreement leading to a scuffle or dust-up. This
word is not to be confused with the Yiddish word "shemozzle," which
signifies a confused situation. Although not wishing to stir up a shimozzle, I assert that it is precisely this shemozzle of linguistic similarity that causes some scholars to posit that
the Irish are a lost tribe of Israel.]
The Last Heat
Amusing Tennis Satire
by Ashley Sterne
It was during the summer we spent on the river that the
whole athletic world was concerned at the mysterious death of Kilham Lobb, the brilliant
but profane International lawn tennis player and one-time holder of the Davis
Cup, the Gordon-Bennett Saucer and the Lonsdale Slop Basin.
In the early stages of the Bimbleham tournaments of that
year Kilham Lobb had earned for himself the unenviable reputation of possessing
a most ungovernable temper, and a long tally of crippled umpires and maimed
linesmen were permanently encased in plaster-of-paris as a result of his ferocious
behaviour.
But it was not until he had publicly mauled his partner in
the mixed doubles, Miss Pattie Ball, and cursed her with a comprehensive curse
that the committee at length decided that he had transgressed the limits of
true chivalry and sportsmanship, and warned him that if he persisted in his
outrageous conduct they—well, they would be rather annoyed with him.
John Smith was not one to interest himself with the more
strenuous forms of athletic exercise, and therefore I was not a little
surprised when one morning he suggested that we should both go to Bimbleham and
witness the finals for the mixed doubles.
"I have a fancy," my friend explained, "to
see the notorious Kilham Lobb with my own eyes and hear him with my own ears.
Yesterday—I see in the paper—he surpassed himself both in dastardly behaviour
and indecorous language. A Thames barge-man
and a sergeant-major among the spectators were so shocked that they
fainted."
"I see," I observed. "You are wanting to
collect a little first-hand evidence before—"
"Before ridding our most sociable recreation of its
most sinister and unclean follower!" cried Smith, passionately. "I am
a just man, and will condemn no one on hearsay, not even were that hearsay
endorsed by the entire Hyde Park constabulary. But if I find that that hearsay
is true, then I shall not sheathe the sword, nor leave one stone unturned,
until I have set my teeth upon Kilham Lobb and crushed him to powder in the
maelstrom of my avenging fire."
Never before had I seen my friend so moved. Not even on the
occasion when he tried to stop a runaway pantechnicon had I known him to be so
completely carried away. That it boded
ill for Kilham Lobb's chances for attaining longevity I did not for one instant
doubt.
"We had better be starting," said Smith, "I
don't want to miss the mixed doubles."
Within the hour we were safely ensconced in front row seats,
John Smith's face suggesting in its.grave contour nothing so much as a
compromise between the Day of Judgment and Sam Mayo.
It was clear from Kilham Lobb's demeanour as he stepped on
to the court that we were in for a star display of temper.
His partner, Miss Pattie Ball, looked white, worn, wan,
worried and woe begone. She commenced the first game of the match by serving
eight faults. Kilham Lobb turned on her
with the ferocity of a sturgeon deprived of its roe and called her "a
rabbit."
Women shrieked. Strong
men tottered feebly from their seats to the buffet and weakly gasped for
brandy. I glanced at John Smith. His
face was pale as ashes (the more pallid sort of ashes), and his lower jaw was
working with what I at first took to be emotion but which subsequently turned
out to be spearmint.
I turned again to the court. Kilham Lobb made a cross-drive, which the
linesman had given "out."
With a fiendish howl Lobb ran at him and belaboured the unfortunate
man about the skull with the handle of his racket, which was bent almost double
with the force of the impact.
The umpire ordered him to break away, and Kilham Lobb called
him a wall-eyed dogfish. Miss Pattie
Ball broke into tears, and he called her a cow-faced halibut. Both his opponents raised a protest, and he
told them to go to Leighton Buzzard and Chipping Sodbury respectively.
It was only after the Chairman of Committee, two ball-boys
and the groundman had personally remonstrated with him that Kilham Lobb so far
mastered himself as to be able to continue.
Then for a time matters progressed comparatively smoothly. Lobb and his
partner (who, since Lobb monopolised the whole of the play, afforded a
remarkable illustration of Milton's famous line, "They also serve who only
stand and wait") easily captured the first set, and were well away towards winning the second when the event occurred
which was to start two Continents rocking.
Kilham Lobb served a ball like a bullet from a cordite express.
"Fault!" cried the umpire.
"You're a horizontal word of four letters signifying a
fisherman," retorted Lobb with heat.
"Fault! Serve
again!" ordered the umpire.
For reply Kilham Lobb uttered a fiery oath, which scorched
the turf, and, advancing to the net, tore up the poles by their roots, and
hurled them at the umpire. One got him
on the North Pole, the other on the Equator. He was just able to declare the
match null and void before falling senseless from his perch on to a
vice-president.
It was close on 7 o'clock when my friend arrived back, and
in response to my question as to what had become of him—
"Read that!" he said, handing me a copy of the
evening paper, and indicating the stop-press column.
I took the paper and read:
Mysterious Death Of
Famous Lawn Tennis Champion
"Shortly after the extraordinary and regrettable
incident (fully reported in another column), which occurred during the finals of
the mixed doubles at Bimbleham this afternoon, the dead body of Mr Kilbam Lobb,
the celebrated International was found in one of the gentlemen's dressing
rooms. The body was devoid of all clothing and apparently stained a bright vermillion
colour. Scotland Yard officials are already on the spot vigorously searching
the servants' boxes, but so far no clue has come to light."
"All my work" said John Smith, as I laid the paper
down, and gazed at him in astonishment.
"Tell me!" I urged.
"It was all exceedingly simple," began my friend.
"The idea. came to me during the last shimozzle wth the umpire. Everybody
was crowding to the court., and seizing my opportunity I made for the gentlemen's
dressing room. It was empty as I hoped.
Do you remember reading that interview with Kilham Lobb in the paper the other
day, in which he stated that he always took a cold shower bath immediately
after every match?"
I nodded.
"Well," continued Smith, "I merely took one
of the fire-buckets and filled the reservoir of the shower-bath with boiling
water!"
"Truly it may be said," I observed, "that in
more senses than one Kilham Lobb brought his doom upon his own head."
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