All hail to a broadcasting legend: NOP salutes Sir David Attenborough on his 100th birthday!

We’re delighted, on this very special occasion, to release the previously lost script of the one and only Sir David Attenborough narrating the introduction to the second in our Ageing Tennis Player Quartet, The Courting Lives of an Ageing Tennis Player.

You can hear the man himself providing his unique insights into the mating behaviours of lesser spotted tennis players in a sample from the audiobook below! David is joined by narrators Samuel James and Claire Wyatt so why not curl up on a tennis court near you and enjoy one of his lesser known broadcasting achievements?

The transcript of his broadcast is available here, just for you, right now!

The Story So Far: The Sightings of Tennis Ornithologist, Mrs Hacienda Buscando Stanley Carter

A Natural History BBC Documentary Script with special guest David Attenborough

FADE IN WIDE SHOT
Early morning mist hangs over an unremarkable suburban tennis club. The courts are empty. Birds call. Somewhere, a gate creaks.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.) (quiet, reflective)
Birding has meant a variety of things to many different people… but for some, it becomes something else entirely.

A pause.

For Mrs Hacienda Buscando Stanley Carter…
it has become a matter of survival.

CUT TO: COURT ONE
A lone figure practises tennis. His movements are hesitant. Balls scatter in several directions at once.

ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Here, within the carefully managed ecosystem of a members’ tennis club, we encounter a most unusual observer. She is not a member. She is not merely passing through. She is watching.

CUT TO: BEHIND THE HEDGE
Phoebe. Notebook. Binoculars. Stillness.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Mrs Hacienda Buscando Stanley Carter — Phoebe, for short is a tennis ornithologist of the highest order.
Where others see leisure… she sees behaviour. Where others hear the sound of felt striking string… she hears distress calls.

SIGHTING ONE
CUT TO: SLOW MOTION
The man attempts a forehand. Misses entirely.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Her attention is first drawn to an Unidentified Wandering Object or UWO as we say in the trade. A solitary male specimen. Drifting uncertainly between baseline and net. His swing is hopeful… rather than effective. A beat. He is lost.

SIGHTING TWO
CUT TO: PHOEBE, HALF-CONCEALED
She leans forward slightly.

ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Phoebe attempts a gentle intervention. A suggestion.
A correction. Advice, delivered with the kindness of experience.

CUT TO: THE UWO
He ignores her completely.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
This is not defiance. It is denial.

SIGHTING THREE
CUT TO: MEMBERS’ LOUNGE
The UWO sits in an armchair, motionless.
A television replays disputed line calls.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
The subject retreats indoors, where he becomes immobilised by a phenomenon Phoebe later identifies as The Hawkeye Effect. Replay. Reflection. Regret. He does not move.

TIME LAPSE
Light shifts. Glasses empty. Chairs scrape.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Phoebe waits.

SIGHTING FOUR
CUT TO: PHOEBE STEPPING FORWARD
Measured. Careful.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
At last, she approaches. This is a dangerous moment. Many watchers are undone by premature contact. But Phoebe has patience. She has notebooks. She survives the encounter.

SIGHTING FIVE
CUT TO: BAR AREA
Several pints of Hawkeye Bitter appear.
Unclaimed. Strategically placed
.

ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Now begins a delicate phase: attraction without detection. Phoebe deploys a classic lure. Not offered. Not explained. Simply… present.

CUT TO: THE UWO CIRCLING
Hovering. Hesitating.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
It is an old ornithological trick.

SIGHTING SIX
CUT TO: EMPTY COURTS
Wind moves leaves across the baseline.

ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Then — absence. The UWO fails to appear. Prolonged non-sighting often indicates injury… illness… or worse.
Self-reflection.

SIGHTING SEVEN
CUT TO: RIVER MERSEY — DUSK
A raft of flaming tennis rackets drifts silently downstream.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
At dusk, Phoebe witnesses a disturbing spectacle. This is not courtship. This is not ritual. This is protest.

WIDE SHOT
Phoebe waits on the riverbank.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
She waits. Four hours pass. The UWO does not return.

SIGHTING EIGHT
CUT TO: CLOSE-UP — PHOEBE
Realisation.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
At last, the truth reveals itself. The architect of the burning rackets is the UWO himself. Now fully identified.

CUT TO: THE MAN, SILHOUETTED

ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Phoebe is appalled. But she is not deterred. From this moment on, she commits to following him across courts, continents and consequences… to the bitter end.

FINAL SHOT
Phoebe closes her notebook.


ATTENBOROUGH (V.O.)
Because the most dangerous thing in the wild is not the predator… A pause. …but the observer who decides she must intervene.

FADE TO BLACK
TITLE CARD:
COURTING LIVES
The Story So Far



Audiobook Review: Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player

Now available on CD is the audiobook of Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player!

Remember when you were young and emulated your sporting heroes in the streets or school playground and were going to win Gold at the Olympics, The 100m sprint? The World Cup?  Wimbledon? 

Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player is the must-go-to humorous guidebook about dreams, disappointments, failures and triumphs; a satirical mid-life-crisis handbook for everyone who has never quite fulfilled their fantasies on the tennis court, or anywhere else. 

The ‘Sporting Confessions’ series offers some rare insights and humour into what it is to be an athlete at the top of their game. Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player is the first book in a quartet of books which follow our hero, Lord Andy John Paul George Ringo Murray of Kirkintilloch through the Tennis Grand Slams around the world, in Melbourne, at Roland Garros in Paris, and finally, Lord Andy’s journey to immortality is told through the Fantastic Confabulations of an Ageing Tennis Player at Flushing Meadows in America. 

 ‘Forget Sports Personality of the Year, because ‘Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player’ wins my Sports Hero of the Decade! In a world where fame sometimes sleazily schmoozes with ability, Nick Owens’ salvos slyly obliterate the pretensions afflicting grand spectacle. Written with cheery lunacy, the rollercoaster of crazy is a joy and a credit to serving both a fine read and a smashing volley, earning a final score of everything-to-love.’ 
(Rick Hoegberg, writer)

Read by the one and only Samuel James, he says:

“The idea of an epic battle between the common man and the forces, trying to keep them at bay is always a winner with me. Nick’s brilliant balance between humour and tragedy had me cheering for Lord Andrew whilst at the same time wishing he could find someone, anyone, to just sit down with for a serious talk over a cup of tea …  Iparticularly enjoyed recreating a well known – and cringeworthy – interview with a certain political leader on the BBC!”

Kevin Coyne plays ‘Mad Boy’ for Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player

When Paul Warren, the Confessions illustrator and I first met, we soon realised we were both fans of the Derby born musician, Kevin Coyne. I had seen Kevin several times, and Paul was lucky enough to be one of his best friends and study with him at the Derby College of Art.

We both thought it would be terrific if Kevin’s role in our lives could be acknowledged in the Confessions… book and so were delighted when Helmi, Kevin’s wife, allowed us to use of Kevin’s song, Mad Boy, as the accompanying song for Confessions of an Ageing Tennis Player. If you’re listening up there, Kevin, we hope we’ve done you proud.

Maja Writes… Life During Wartime

Headphones are my best defence. Best decision ever. I listen to Hawking Teds all day. They sound like home: strange, clever, detached. Julian asked what I’m listening to. I said ‘white noise.’ It’s simpler. Eleanor told me, ‘Don’t let him near your lunchbox.’ Still don’t understand the metaphors in this place.

Julian Writes… Maya and the Drop Shot!

She wears headphones. All day. I’m certain she’s listening to Serbian poetry or perhaps meditative tennis podcasts. I asked what music inspires her but she just shrugged, “It’s white noise.” This may be metaphorical. I think she’s protecting herself from the chaos of the publishing world. Later, she briefly smiled when I offered her a stapler. Progress.

I try later that morning and ask what she’s listening to. ‘Hawking Teds,’ she said, deadpan. I pretended to know.  I think she meant Hawkwind. Fascinating! A woman who misnames her band and owns it. There’s art in that. Like hitting a drop shot when everyone expects a drive. I’m certain she listens to ‘Once in a Lifetime’ and thinks of me.