Real men play under a roof with balls that don't bounce

Sir Charles Day Rose must have been quite a guy. A paint magnate and MP for Newmarket from 1903 to 1910 he is said to have dug up his wife's prize rose beds while she was out shopping. The reason? So he could build a tennis court in the back garden of their home in Goring, Oxfordshire. As he already owned two courts, it must have been quite a shock for Lady R. It is perhaps no surprise that her husband is believed to have been the inspiration for Mr Toad in Kenneth Grahame's Wind in the Willows.

It was not any old court either. Instead of a neat lawn with geometric markings, his wife was confronted by a huge structure bearing a vague resemblance to a medieval courtyard. Her reaction is not recorded, but those who get addicted to real tennis certainly act in strange ways.

Anthony Coles has not gone as far as knocking down the garage housing his restoration project (a 1977 Reliant Scimitar) at his home in Dereham, near Norwich, but he has done the next best thing. As well as perpetuating the legend of the eccentric paint millionaire, Coles has plans to build a string of real tennis clubs right across the country. When you consider there are only 21 clubs in the United Kingdom, that is quite a leap of faith. But he is convinced that real tennis is in for a real revival.

And why not? After all, at one time there were more courts than churches in France. Paris alone had more than 250. In this country, Cambridge boasted 20 courts. Real tennis is by far the oldest racket game, stretching back to the 11th century as an Italian street game or played by bored monks whacking pebbles around their cloistered courtyards, depending which version of its genesis you believe.

Its "real" forename is a bit of a misnomer too, though enthusiasts claim similar games are pale imitations. The name has been corrupted from "royal", and it was the sport of kings even before Lester Piggott was born. Prince Edward is keeping the tradition alive today though let us hope he has better luck than others of royal lineage. When it comes to regicide, real tennis has been far more effective than any scheming courtier.

Louis X of France caught a chill playing the game, and died shortly afterwards. Charles VIII whacked his head on the lintel of a low doorway on his way to watch a match. The blow was so severe that a few days later, he became Louis' playing partner. James I of Scotland, fleeing from assassins in 1437, tried to escape down a drain only to remember, too late, that he had blocked off his intended bolthole because too many balls were being lost. Henry VIII was so addicted he did not even stop playing when news of Anne Boleyn's death came through.

With regal patronage, the game's future should have been assured. But the sheer size of a court, big as an elephant's mausoleum, saw the sport dwindle. And dwindle. It clung on in traditional places (Hampton Court, Oxbridge, MCC, large country houses such as Hatfield and Petworth) then, suddenly, it has started to enjoy a revival. It is not easy to get a game at almost all the country's courts, and some, like the Harbour Club in Fulham, are heavily booked.

That is where Coles comes in. "I had a friend whom I used to beat at squash, and he invited me to try this game,"he says. "I fell in love in just 30 minutes, even though I hardly got the ball over the net. It is the most interesting and beguiling of racket sports.

"In other sports, when you become fat and 50, your playing expertise declines rapidly. With this game, you can take it up at 50 and spend the next 20 years improving."

Coles played as much as he could. "But I got more and more frustrated that there was just nowhere to play." Then he heard about an old court standing derelict in Newmarket. It had been built in 1901 by... Charles Rose. A strange factory-like building in the heart of the horse-racing town, it needed substantial work, but Coles was convinced it was a project that could work. It made selling gas heaters to the Saudis look a simple task.

"The banks were, er, intrigued," he recalls. "I had to persuade them to take up the game from scratch." But he won. The Newmarket Real Tennis Club opened in May 1995, and its success has surpassed Coles' dreams. "We convert 68 per cent of the people who come along to try it into members."

What is it about the game, with its sagging net; funny-shaped rackets; odd expressions such as giraffe, dedans and tambour; balls that don't bounce (they are all made by the professionals); net-covered goals and uneven-shaped court, lined by elongated sheds with sloping roofs? For Coles, a former teacher of art history, it is the strategy involved. "It's an intellectual challenge. I never realised what a boring game squash was until I took up real tennis."

He also likes the quirkiness. "It's the only game where you can win a point by not hitting the ball. And it demands total honesty. Your opponent 110 feet away can't see where a ball has landed, so you are calling your opponent's wins and losses. It's without point unless played in a totally sportsmanlike way. That said, it's much easier to play than it looks."

It is also a sport where guile can beat the fast and fit. Olivier Michel, the professional at Coles' Newmarket club, ruefully agrees. "When I was 16, I was beaten by a 78-year-old with a bad knee. It's not all about running around the court very fast and hitting the ball as hard as you can."

Having found a new market at Newmarket, Coles was not content to let it stop there. "I realised that you didn't have to renovate existing courts, which is expensive anyway, and that if it worked in Newmarket, which is obsessed with horse racing, it could work in any large town or city. Our market is all the people who got turned on to squash 30 years ago."

He gave up his job in the chemicals industry and went into it full-time. At the end of this year, a new club opens in Norwich. He hopes to build two a year for the next five years.

His plans have not met total support from the real tennis establishment, however. "I think they are supportive, if a little reserved about some of the ramifications," Coles says, choosing his words carefully.

"It is slightly faster than they had envisaged, but it's a small game. Even if we build as we hope, the numbers will only increase from 3,000 to about 5,000."

If I were his wife, I would keep a very close eye on that paddock in the back garden.

The Tennis and Rackets Association is at The Queen's Club, London W14, tel: 0171-386 3447.