By Alix Ramsay

“Everywhere” clearly does not mean the same in France as it does in other countries. The French Open, the centre of the clay court universe and the proud boast of the people of Paris, is not that easy to follow en France itself. Most of the decent stuff is on subscription TV while the coverage on the terrestrial channel – France 2 – tends to show just the French players (they could be in for a thin week next week). So imagine our joy when we saw this:

And then imagine our dismay when we saw this:

 

C’est la vie….

The French have their own, particular way of doing things and they do not take instruction well. It is the norm at big tournaments for the players to have some form of escort to and from the courts, someone to keep them safe from the pushing throng of fans begging for autographs and photos. All right, bon, we can do this, the French thought.

So there was Kevin Anderson, all 9ft 37ins of him with his security guard to take him back to the locker room. In heels, the blonde bouncer must have been all of 5ft 1ins and, dripping wet, she must have weighed 90lbs. Presumably, in the event Kev was accosted by an unruly spectator, he could pick her up and beat the attacker over the head with her.

And then there is this: French parking. Need we say more?