A chair is a chair, a seat with legs and a back surely? Well no, not in the case of the umpire’s perch.
Far from being a mere physical support or piece of sporting equipment, the court officiator’s work station projects an aura similar to a judge’s bench, a head teacher’s desk, even emanating the power of a throne when it has overseen a majestic record-breaking performance.
It is from venerable heights, five steps up, that the chair umpire presides as the final authority on court - calling out the score, overruling on questions of fact (whether the ball is in or out, the calling of a service let or of a foot fault), answering appeals from players, controlling the crowd, summoning medical assistance if necessary.
As a focal point, it does not encourage an open forum, but is available to field unscheduled player expressions, standing in the line of fire and not just from the odd wildly struck ball. It can be approached gingerly with a player query; it can be rocked by an outburst of ire. But after the pronouncement of the final score, it stages the sporting handshake with victor and vanquished that underlines the etiquette of fair competition.
At Wimbledon, the umpire’s chair has iconic status as well as absolute authority. It is the only traditional wooden officiator’s seat among the Grand Slams. Though it conforms to the International Tennis Federation’s specifications in being a minimum of six and a maximum of eight feet in height, and in being centred along an extension of the net approximately three feet from the net post, the Slazenger Wimbledon umpire’s chair rocks a vintage look compared to the Space-Age style of the Australian Open’s court furniture, the minimalist metal of Roland Garros or the US Open’s chairs that resemble diving platforms.
Here’s a little-known fact. What’s the discreet lidded box attached to one side of the chair? It’s well camouflaged, painted in the same classic green as the chair, but under the lid is a supply of sawdust, which a player can ask to use to help overcome sweaty palms.
There are 19 umpire’s chairs on site, and two spares. In five years, the spares have never been called upon and no one can quite imagine what would prompt an emergency chair swap.
Every year the 21 chairs arrive back at the All England Club, having wintered in the Slazenger factory up north and been treated to a fresh coat of paint. They are not just glorified step ladders with a seat on top; they are designed to hold integral fridges for players’ drinks, a telephone for a hotline to the referee’s office and an IBM tablet on which the umpire scores the match. A wheeled base allows the chairs to be whizzed off in the event of rain – sometimes with the umpire in situ, like a Roman emperor carried in a litter – so that the covers can go on. (At the beginning of every match, the chair umpire is asked by the court attendant team if they are happy to be wheeled off should the situation arise.)
Each day the umpire’s chair has a forlorn start, waiting in the wings off court where it was wheeled at the end of the previous day’s play so that the Grounds staff can tend to the grass over night and early in the morning. The first sign of activity occurs at 7am when the teams responsible for the players’ Evian water and unbranded sports drinks stock up the fridge. The Robinsons' team ensure the four statutory bottles of barley water sit on both sides, in alternate flavours, labels aligned outwards and the cup dispenser full. The audio team check the phone is fully functional and in contact with the referee’s office.
“Every chair has a phone so if, for example, a player requests a new towel, the umpire calls the referee’s office who call us,” says George Spring, court attendant manager. “That’s the protocol before the court coverers supply a new towel.”
By 10.15am, the chairs are wheeled on to court and into position. If the chair needs to be re-aligned, the call of ‘lift by the wheels’ goes up – or else the wheels get left behind. The broadcast team have done their rounds to uncover the furry green mics, angled from the umpire's chair towards the player’s seat.
The IBM people have set up the umpire’s tablet with a cover in case of rain. By 10.30am, the venerable umpire’s chair is fully dressed for play.
The chair umpire arrives with the court’s requisite number of line officials. They plug in the electronic net monitor. On Show Courts, they carry a radio too in case the
Hawk-Eye technicians need to be contacted. Wary of spending an epic time in the chair, the umpire brings his or her own cushion in a bag, folding up the bag to hide it under the cushion. After the players arrive, the umpire goes about officiating the toss to decide who serves first, and then climbs the five steps, ready to act as guardian of the rules and upholder of conduct.
Time-lapse photography focused on one umpire’s chair in the course of a day would see three, sometimes four, different officiators take up position – plus a lot of refilling of the fridge - before the chair is undressed and pulled off court for the night.
