On the ball
Barnardo boys reunited at Wimbledon
The chance to be a ball boy at Wimbledon, to be at the centre of one of the world’s most famous sporting events, would be exciting for any youngster. But for one generation it was a particularly unforgettable experience.
From 1946 to 1967, Wimbledon’s ball boys ( girls were introduced in 1977) were in the care of the charity Dr Barnardo’s, and the contrast between their institutional lives and the glamour of the tournament could not have been greater.
They attended the William Baker Technical School, known as Goldings, a residential school run by Barnardo’s in Hertfordshire. Each day of the tournament they made the two and-a-half-hour journey by coach, having been woken by the school’s customary bugle call at 6am.
This month, some former Barnardo’s ball boys were reunited at the Wimbledon grounds, to relive their memories.
“Smelling the grass and walking onto the outside courts after all these years makes me feel young again,” says Peter Knight, who was selected as a ball boy at 16, and took part in the 1946 and 1947 tournaments.
“Life at the school was austere by today’s standards,” says Peter, 86, a retired engineer and grandfather of three. “Discipline was tight, but everyone was encouraged to try their hardest – we saw Wimbledon as a challenge and didn’t want to let the school down.
“None of us had been to a tournament – now we were suddenly rubbing shoulders with tennis stars and eating strawberries and cream.”
It was in stark contrast to an early life when he and his three brothers were largely brought up by his grandmother – his mother, a live-in housekeeper, couldn’t look after them. After being evacuated from west London in 1940, he went into the care of Dr Barnardo’s – now simply called Barnardo’s.
Peter has vivid memories of the players he met at Wimbledon. “Jaroslav Drobny [the Czech former World No 1] hit a ball straight at my head which I caught after raising my hands to protect my face. He told me off in no uncertain terms, shouting that by getting in the way of the ball, I’d lost him a crucial point.
“Dorothy Bundy [the American former world No 6] was my favourite player. She gave me her racket as a present, after a practice partner failed to show and she asked me to knock balls to her for half an hour while she returned them using different strokes.”
Peter can’t recall receiving any payment for a fortnight’s work on the courts (today’s ball boys and girls receive expenses), but says he and his peers found ways round this.
“We’d buy photos of star players for three old pennies, get them signed and sell them on for a shilling,” he says. “It was an early lesson in entrepreneurship useful in later life.”
Performing on court in front of thousands of spectators sounds a daunting challenge, but the Barnardo’s boys approached it with confidence.
“Goldings prepared us for challenges,” says Peter. “We were taught a trade – mine was in metalworking – and I later joined British Airways as an engineer, working on all the big jets including Concorde.”
Barry Hyland, 71, who was in Barnardo’s care from the age of five and a ball boy from 1958 to 1962, also remembers selection for Wimbledon as being fairly casual.
“We had to be fit and agile, able to catch and throw balls, and also have the ability to stand perfectly still on court during play to avoid distracting the competitors – but training took just a couple of weeks,” he recalls.
Today, Wimbledon’s ball boys and girls, who are selected from local schools, undergo a gruelling selection process with written tests on the rules of tennis, and five months of training.
“Enthusiasm and self-discipline counted for a lot – and was an important aspect of the approach to life taught to us at Goldings,” recalls Barry. “The only advice given was to be polite to players, stay alert and do our best – and this proved enough.”
He says the experience was a great confidence-builder. “I had no worries about performing at Wimbledon, and succeeding there helped me believe I could succeed at my trade.” He did an apprenticeship in carpentry after leaving school.
While the excitement and novelty of tournaments made time pass quickly, Barry recalls long days. “We’d arrive at the grounds at noon and wouldn’t be back at school until midnight or even later,” he says.
Clive Gillingham, 76, who was at three tournaments from 1955, remembers his ball boy “uniform” of long grey flannel trousers and heavy cotton shirt with black canvas plimsolls. “They were part of our ‘best’ school clothes: but we really felt the heat on court when the sun was out,” says Clive, who was living with a foster family until he joined Goldings at 14.
Barnardo’s boys were taught to “always look your best” – and Clive reveals how this was done for Wimbledon. “Every night, creases were smoothed from our trousers, which were placed between lengths of plywood with our mattress on top. It worked every time.”
Today’s ball boys and girls are dressed by American designer, Ralph Lauren, and their uniform includes fashionable polo shirts and caps.
As for coping with the pressure of being on court watched by thousands, Clive says: “We just slipped naturally into it – the concentration required meant we didn’t hear the noise of spectators. And the players looked out for us. Lew Hoad, then the world No 1, gave us bottles of cold Robinson’s Barley Water at the end of one long match.”
The long-serving BBC commentator Dan Maskell used to show the boys around the commentary box.”
Goldings’ 20-year long partnership with Wimbledon ended when the school closed in 1967.
“I think the school knew the Wimbledon experience would be so totally new and different for every pupil, while also providing a challenge,” says Clive. “I’m sure it did help us develop in positive ways. And it was certainly great fun.”
‘The only advice was to be polite to players, stay alert and do our best’