The family

We feel very privileged as we walk down a stone corridor in a quiet corner of Hampton Court Palace and find ourselves on the royal tennis court – the oldest of the nation’s 27 real tennis courts. Built on the site of Henry VIII’s tennis court and remodelled by Charles II (all devotees of the game), it is suitably royal, with a red floor, high ceiling and royal insignia. We are here to attempt to play the game described to us as “a mix of tennis, squash and chess” – the ancient Game of Kings.

We have all played modern tennis, but real tennis is, well, a different ball game. On the way here, bets have been laid on who will take to the new (or rather, old) game best. Luke thinks his older brother will be rubbish because he is “a rower”: Sir Steve Redgrave and Sir Matthew Pinsent once visited the court and were “hopelessly uncoordinated” apparently. Our boys reckon Dad is not great at normal tennis so will probably come a cropper. Luke hopes his squash will help him because real tennis balls can come off the walls as well as over the net. I play tennis more often than the others and so it is assumed I will do OK.

The training

We are handed heavy wooden racquets that look as though they were made in the 50s and are, in fact, little changed since Tudor times. The head is small and asymmetric – roughly the size and shape of a hand (with which the game’s forerunner was played since ancient Greek times until about the 13th century). The French still call the game jeu de paume (game of the palm), hence the title of Louis XVI’s tennis court where the French revolution began.

Next we each get a ball. They are handmade from cork, cotton and felt, hardly bounce at all and, adds Nick Wood, master of the royal tennis court and the world real tennis number five, they change shape during play. We start by knocking the ball against the court wall. The rest of my family seem to have no trouble with this, but I am hopeless. “Don’t swing,” says Nick. “This is not lawn tennis. If you swing you’ll jar your arm.” And I do.

Nick sends Luke and Daniel into the dedans (the spectators’ gallery). With them is James Walton, the chief executive of the Tennis and Racquets Association. Meanwhile, Rod and I try to hit balls fed over the net by Nick. Rod is hitting hard, low and very effectively and even gets into a few rallies. I am hitting mainly the frame of the racquet. After a few shots, voices float out from behind me: “Your dad’s a natural,” says James.

Luke and Daniel swap on to the court, and the moment the ball starts bouncing off the walls Luke comes into his own. Daniel is also hitting some great shots. “Rather lawn tennis,” comments James, but (unlike me) Daniel has the accuracy and the strength to pull it off.

Nick explains that in real tennis you always serve from one end, appropriately called the service end. The other end is the hazard end. That is equally appropriate, I think, since balls in this game can go at 140mph and come at you from any angle. But no, it is because there are two galleries in the side of the court which lose you the point if you put the ball into them. Other galleries and targets win you points or lay a chase (about which we learn more later), eventually gaining you the service end where most points are won.

One winning target is the grille, a square in one corner. In this court it is decorated with a portrait of Henry VIII. “Hit him on the nose,” says Nick. Frankly, I’m doing well if I hit the ball, but the boys get pretty close to the king and Rod thwacks Henry in the chest.

Time to try serving. “No Federer serves,” cautions Nick – the serve just has to be tapped up on to the penthouse (a sloping roof that goes round three sides of the court) and fall into the green area at the hazard end. Simple, we think, until Nick adds: “There are 30 different kinds of serve.” They range from the basic bobble serve (which bobbles along the roof and plops into the court) to the giraffe (high), the boomerang (“which hopefully does not come back”), railroad (so called since Tudor times) and python. Or, in my case, the familiar double fault.

Going solo

We are going to play a game of doubles so we need to understand a few more rules. Scoring is the same as in modern tennis (15, 30 etc) but there are lots of extra ways of winning (and losing) points – crucially in chases, where what matters is where the ball hits the floor for the second time if the receiver doesn’t return it. For this purpose, the court floor is lined with markers. Some are numbered, others have names.

We play. Poor Daniel is paired with me and I’m afraid I am a liability. We play a few games – chases and all – before our time is up. Rod is undoubtedly the star. He and the boys have thoroughly enjoyed themselves. “Great game,” is their verdict. I agree. I particularly like all the strategic stuff – if I could only hit the damn ball.

Your turn

We played at the Royal Tennis Court, Hampton Court Palace, Surrey, KT8 9AU [email protected] 020-8977 3015. Lessons cost £40 an hour, or £21 for the court alone. For your nearest club and more information go to www.tennisandrackets.com

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