[spb_swift_slider fullscreen=”false” maxheight=”300″ slidecount=”5″ category=”about” autoplay=”5000″ transition=”fade” loop=”true” nav=”true” pagination=”false” continue=”false” fullwidth=”no” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_blank_spacer height=”30px” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_column width=”2\/3″ el_position=”first”] [spb_text_block animation=”none” animation_delay=”0″ padding_vertical=”0″ padding_horizontal=”0″ width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”]\n
The Ayatollah Khomeini was blamed for many things in 1970s Iran. But never for stopping the son of an Iranian hill tribesman from becoming Wimbledon champion \u2013 even though that is exactly what happened.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s an astonishing story \u2013 and tennis fans the world over will know Mansour Bahrami as the magical maverick who can serve while holding six tennis balls in his hand, a man who can catch tennis balls in his shorts pocket while playing an improbable winning shot \u2013 and as someone who can smash volleys which then spin crazily back across the net\u2026<\/p>\n
But Bahrami is not just an entertainer, not only a lightweight juggler who makes the fans smile \u2013 he is the greatest Wimbledon champion we never applauded.<\/p>\n
Yes, really.<\/p>\n
Sometime playing partner, Ilie Nastase, called him \u201ca maestro\u201d. John McEnroe reckons he\u2019s \u201ca genius\u201d. While Rod Laver believes him to be the most naturally gifted player ever to pick up a racquet.<\/p>\n
Since he didn\u2019t own a real tennis racquet until he was thirteen \u2013 he taught himself to play using a rusty old metal frying pan, and other implements \u2013 he is indisputably the greatest player ever to wield a kitchen utensil.<\/p>\n
But Bahrami was barred from achieving tennis greatness because the then rulers of Iran viewed tennis as a decadent Western activity definitely not to be encouraged.<\/p>\n
Way back in 1997, when Mansour was still playing Davis Cup tennis at the age of forty-one, he said: \u201cSo you want to hear my life story? You think they will believe this? The frying-pan, the poverty, the years of not being allowed to hit a tennis ball, sleeping rough in Paris, on the run from the police\u2026 yes, I suppose my tale is a little out of the ordinary.”<\/p>\n
Bahrami was thirteen when the Shah\u2019s friends on the Iranian Tennis Federation recognised they had a teenage prodigy in their midst and, for quite a few years, he was finally allowed to play tennis and compete.<\/p>\n
In 1975, Mansour made his Davis Cup debut against Britain\u2019s Roger Taylor and lost 6-0, 6-0, 6-2. Being a quick learner, however, he won nine out of his next eleven singles matches, which was incredibly impressive.<\/p>\n
Then, after the Shah was deposed, he had to stop playing entirely or chose to leave his family and friends behind and surrender his Iranian identity, a choice Bahrami felt he should never have to make. So, he stayed in Iran and \u201cfor three years I was not allowed to hit a ball. I existed by playing backgammon all day.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then his luck changed and a single tennis tournament was organised in Tehran. In Mansour\u2019s own words \u201cI won the tournament and the prize was a ticket to Athens, which I gave to my girlfriend at the time. The next day she came back to me and said that I should take it and pay an extra $200 to change the ticket to get to Nice, so I would have a chance to play tennis. It was very selfless of her to send me away and it changed my life for ever.\u201d<\/p>\n
The cost of living in France was so much higher than in Iran that Bahrami soon realised that what he had brought with him wasn\u2019t going to last very long, so he reckoned he\u2019d better try and do something about it. Unfortunately, he gambled in a casino on his first night and lost!<\/p>\n
\u201cI chose France because there are hundreds of small tournaments with prize money. But you have to win to collect the money,\u201d he explained. \u201cFor weeks at a time I had nowhere to sleep, so I would walk the streets of Paris. Often, I would make one baguette last three or four days.\u201d<\/p>\n
Having lost three years of his career because of the fundamentalist regime in Iran, Mansour then spent the next six years as a virtual prisoner in France because he refused to become a political refugee.<\/p>\n
\u201cA political refugee is someone who risks being killed if they go home \u2013 I was only a tennis player, but I did not dare leave France in case they did not let me back in.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen my French visa eventually ran out, I became an illegal immigrant. Every time I saw a policeman coming, I changed direction. If they had asked me for my papers or ID they would have put me on the first plane back to Iran.\u201d His status also of course made working and earning money even more difficult.<\/p>\n
In 1981, at the age of twenty-four, Bahrami reached the third round of the French Open as a qualifier, whereupon his cause was taken up by influential French newspapers such as L\u2019Equipe and Le Figaro, who demanded the renewal of his visa.<\/p>\n
Mansour was thirty years old before he was allowed finally to join the ATP as a full-time professional player.<\/p>\n
I lost nine years of my life. All my best results (fifteen finals and five tournament victories) came after the age of thirty. I was thirty-three when I reached the French Open doubles final. Am I angry? No, I\u2019m not angry, I feel I am a very lucky man.<\/p>\n
\u201cI love playing. I love to feel people are having fun watching me. I cannot tell you how many matches I lose that I should probably win because I am joking around. Often I do win, but I feel the crowd haven\u2019t enjoyed it so much, so I am upset. I love to make them laugh. When the audience laughs, I am the happiest man in the whole world.\u201d<\/p>\n
Whenever you get the chance, go and watch Mansour Bahrami in action: laugh out loud at his antics and toast the greatest Wimbledon Champion who never was.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n[\/spb_text_block] [\/spb_column] [spb_column col_bg_type=”cover” col_parallax_image_movement=”fixed” col_parallax_image_speed=”0.5″ col_padding=”5″ col_animation=”none” col_animation_delay=”0″ width=”1\/3″ el_position=”last”] [spb_text_block animation=”none” animation_delay=”0″ padding_vertical=”0″ padding_horizontal=”0″ width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”]\n
\u201cWhen I was seven, I would play with anything that looked vaguely like a
\nracquet. A dustpan, frying-pan, broom-handle, a piece of wood. That\u2019s how I learned, usually at night, barefoot, when they had drained the swimming-pool \u2013 hitting an old ball someone had thrown away against the wall of the pool with whatever I could lay my hands on: I was that desperate to play tennis!\u201d<\/p>\n[\/spb_text_block] [spb_image image=”143″ image_size=”full” frame=”noframe” intro_animation=”none” animation_delay=”200″ fullwidth=”no” lightbox=”no” link_target=”_self” caption_pos=”hover” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_text_block animation=”none” animation_delay=”0″ padding_vertical=”0″ padding_horizontal=”0″ width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”]\n
\u201cThe first photo of me. I was 10
\n(on the left) and am here with my ball boy friends at the tennis club in Tehran. We behaved as if we were playing in the final of a great tournament.\u201d<\/p>\n[\/spb_text_block] [spb_image image=”145″ image_size=”full” frame=”noframe” intro_animation=”none” animation_delay=”200″ fullwidth=”no” lightbox=”no” link_target=”_self” caption_pos=”hover” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_image image=”139″ image_size=”full” frame=”noframe” intro_animation=”none” animation_delay=”200″ fullwidth=”no” lightbox=”no” link_target=”_self” caption_pos=”hover” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_text_block animation=”none” animation_delay=”0″ padding_vertical=”0″ padding_horizontal=”0″ width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”]\n
\u201cHow good would I have been? Who knows? Ilie (Nastase) says I would have been in the world\u2019s top 10 for sure. But I am happy. I play forty weeks a year and travel more than any other player. Anyway, it is good for the soul to go hungry at some time in one\u2019s life.\u201d<\/p>\n[\/spb_text_block] [spb_image image=”141″ image_size=”full” frame=”noframe” intro_animation=”none” animation_delay=”200″ fullwidth=”no” lightbox=”no” link_target=”_self” caption_pos=”hover” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [\/spb_column]\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
[spb_swift_slider fullscreen=”false” maxheight=”300″ slidecount=”5″ category=”about” autoplay=”5000″ transition=”fade” loop=”true” nav=”true” pagination=”false” continue=”false” fullwidth=”no” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_blank_spacer height=”30px” width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] [spb_column width=”2\/3″ el_position=”first”] [spb_text_block animation=”none” animation_delay=”0″ padding_vertical=”0″ padding_horizontal=”0″ width=”1\/1″ el_position=”first last”] About Mansour Bahrami The Ayatollah Khomeini was blamed for many things in 1970s Iran. But never for stopping the son of an Iranian hill tribesman from becoming Wimbledon champion […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/115"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=115"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/115\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/mansourbahrami.co.uk\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=115"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}