One does not, as a rule, lower oneself to discussing string. String, in my experience, is what the lower footmen used to tie parcels before the postal reforms of — well, never mind, the point stands.
And yet here I find myself, seated in the drawing room of a rather decent house overlooking the Wells Market Place, holding a packet of Volkl V-Torque sixteen gauge tennis string and feeling, against every instinct bred into me across several generations of studied indifference, genuinely impressed. I shall not make a habit of admitting this.
The V-Torque is a polyester monofilament string, which in plain language means it is a single strand of the stuff, extruded and twisted in a manner that Volkl describes as a torque construction. The twisting, you see, is not decorative.
It gives the string a textured surface that grips the ball at contact, imparting spin with an efficiency that would make the old head groundsman at our estate — God rest him, he understood a court — weep with something approaching religious feeling.
The gauge is sixteen, or one point three millimetres if one insists on the continental measure, which I generally do not, though I shall allow it on this occasion. It comes as a set of the standard length one would expect for stringing a racquet, which is to say quite enough to do the job properly when handled by someone who knows what they are about.
I tried it last Thursday, on the grass beside the Bishop's Palace, where the swans have been performing their ancestral duties at the bell rope for what feels like centuries, because it practically has been. My hitting partner — a solicitor from Street, perfectly pleasant, no title — remarked that my slice had acquired what he called a wicked kick.
I told him the word he wanted was vicious, and that wicked was for lesser centuries. Polyester strings of this construction reward players who swing with full, modern strokes and seek to dominate from the baseline.
The spin generation from this string is, in plain terms, exceptional.
They are not, if I am candid, for the casual knock-about merchant who plays twice annually and considers the effort of a second serve an affront to the afternoon.
Polyester holds its tension longer than the old multifilaments I grew up with, and the V-Torque's textured construction does not appear to sacrifice longevity for its spin-producing cleverness. The string bed remains composed. One feels it will not betray one mid-match, which is more than I can say for certain relations.
Durability, too, is a strength.
I had occasion to walk through Vicar's Close after my hitting session, which dates from the fourteenth century and still appears entirely indifferent to the passage of time. Standing there, I reflected that good equipment has a similar quality — it does not announce itself, it simply performs with consistency across many years. The V-Torque rather has that character.
It is not showy. The packaging is restrained. The string itself is available in black, which is the correct colour for anything serious.
Now, one hears about Fort Lauderdale themed clinics for cardiovascular tennis — apparently there are establishments offering such things, with palm fronds and elevated heart rates and instructors in visors — and while I appreciate that the V-Torque would perform admirably in those frenetic modern settings, I prefer to think of it here, under the shadow of Wells Cathedral, whose west facade has been staring down human ambition since the twelfth century and will presumably continue to do so long after the visor-wearing instructor has retired.
The string suits the serious player. The baseline grinder. The club competitor who strings regularly and understands that cheap string is a false economy, like cheap claret.
Tension recommendations sit in the mid-range for polyester — one would advise against stringing it too tightly, as polyester already plays firm. Experienced stringers in any decent pro shop will guide you. The string rewards that conversation. Go. Have it.
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