Wimbledon or Wollombi? Newk’s in the box seat

John Newcombe is at Wollombi rather than Wimbledon on the 50th anniversary of his 1971 triumph at The All England Club.

On the 50th anniversary of winning Wimbledon, John Newcombe would normally be getting the royal treatment there. Instead he’s on his farm at Wollombi with his dogs Zoro and Maddie. Picture: Chris Pavlich

John Newcombe is at Wollombi rather than Wimbledon on the 50th anniversary of his 1971 triumph at The All England Club.

What a dream country retreat. Birdsong. Horses. Cows. Two dogs living the life. Chickens obediently delivering a couple of eggs to be hard-boiled for breakfast. A tennis court. Cubby house for the grandkids. Just glorious. We take a couple of four-wheelers for a spin up into the hills. “Not a bad old joint,” he says.

The peace and quiet and serenity of Wollombi is as far from the hustle and bustle of Wimbledon as a former champion can get. Without Covid-19, Newcombe would be getting the royal treatment in London, taking a seat in the royal box, even though that stuffy little viewing deck isn’t really his cup of tea.

John Newcombe on his farm at Wollombi.

He remembers match point in the ’71 final against American Stan Smith like it was yesterday. “Served to the backhand court,” he says. “A return coming low to me on the forehand side. I hit a low forehand crosscourt volley. As soon as I hit it I knew it was a winner. I just followed though and kept running – and jumped the bloody net!”

John Newcombe jumps over the net after defeating Stan Smith in their Men's Singles Final. Picture: Getty Images.

Which was a Newcombe trademark stemming from sportsmanship as much as showmanship. “I never wanted to leave the other player standing there like a stale bottle of piss,” he says.

“This thing they do now, where they fall on their back, or they get down and kiss the court, or start chewing on the grass at Wimbledon, they’re completely ignoring the poor bloke who’s just lost. The first thing you should do when you win is acknowledge your opponent, because you’ve been out there together. I mean, geez, you’ve been out there for three or four hours together in battle. You can’t just leave him standing there.

“Part of jumping the net was the adrenaline and excitement of winning. But I also thought it was the quickest way to get to shake the other bloke’s hand. “The other things that happens now is, the players shake hands, they shake the umpire’s hand, then the winner goes back on the court alone to wave at everyone and pump their fists. The other guy is sitting there on his own, ignored. They should both be applauded. Together. They’ve provided theatre. It’s like they’ve just acted in a play together. They should stand there together, taking a bow.”

John Newcombe on his farm at Wollombi.

It’s hardly the first time Newcombe has fled his Sydney base to have a few quiet days in the country. A previous dash to Wollombi came when he was thrown into George W. Bush’s drink-driving scandal right before he won the 2000 US presidential election. When Bush was charged with drink driving after a night on the beers with Newcombe in 1976, a police officer called Calvin gave Bush the ticket. The running joke was that Calvin would come back to haunt them. He did. Newcombe was pitchforked into the biggest news story in the world.

“I was in my office at Crows Nest in Sydney,” Newcombe says. “I got a phone call from Peter Roussel, who was George Bush senior’s press secretary. He, ­George jnr, and myself had partied a bit. Three days before the election, Peter Roussell said, “Hey, Newk! W just rang me. He said the story just broke on his DUI. He asked me to call you because when the press just asked about it, he told them, “I was out with John Newcombe!” As if that explained everything. I thought, W said what? Thanks for that, mate! Peter Roussel rang and said W just wanted to warn you. I said thank you very much, gotta go.”

Straight to Wollombi with wife Angie. “This is where we hid, right here,” he says. “I said to my secretary, Jenny, I’m outta here and you have no idea where I am. Even if they want to stick a gun in your eye, you don’t know where I am. I rang Angie and said pack a bag, we’re leaving straight away. An hour later, my office building in Sydney was surrounded by all the TV networks and media looking for me. How could I have won there? No matter what I said, it would have caused even more trouble for W. His real error wasn’t the DUI. W’s biggest mistake that night was trying to outdrink me.

“I was happy to be at Wollombi when Calvin came back to haunt us. And Wimbledon anniversary or not, I’m very happy to be here again now.”