The Colour of Clay

The grass may need cutting at Wimbledon, but there’s only one grand slam where the court is alive, and that is Roland Garros. Only on clay are you playing on someone’s face.

Clay can lay claim to being the most aesthetically pleasing surface, and when the sun is shining, I cannot think of a better looking face than that of the Monte-Carlo Country Club, where the glistening Mediterranean caresses the Monegasque coast. But behind the Angelina Jolie looks is a dangerous, volatile personality.

To spend a day staring at a clay court is to watch her many moods. In bright sunshine, she is golden, tawny brown, a sea of tranquility to contrast with the fierce battle taking place on her surface.

But she changes when the sun goes down. She doesn’t just slow down serves, she drains energy from her pallet. A match with life and speed and relentless vigour slows down sometimes slightly, sometimes dramatically, as if under the spell of the surface. A day at the beach is transformed into a week in the trenches.

The rallies are extended, the grunting becomes more pronounced and the mood gets darker. Everything gets harder. As if life bleeds from the players and it’s that what turns the surface dark. It’s volcanic, sulphuric, powdered rust – a million miles from the bucket and spade post card. Where once there were shadows, now only muscles. In the sunshine, the players dance over the surface, but when it won’t come out to play, they are shackled ankle-deep in quick sand.

Clay is the surface made most malleable by the weather. In warm and dry conditions, it hardens and speeds up, but when cloudy and humid, it slows quite dramatically. Slow conditions paradoxically favour the bigger hitters, as they have the requisite power to overcome both their opponent and the clouds.

When the court is swept, the lines cleared and the sun blocked, the court is baptised, and the trailing player is given a second chance.

There’s something satisfying about the idea of blaming the weather and having physics on your side. The idea that when the sun goes out, it doesn’t just make you feel lethargic, it slows things down at the particle level. Shifting blame is the world’s favourite game. But tennis at Roland Garros must be a close second.