‘Tennis repairs you': the 101-year-old fuelled by iced coffee who still plays competitively
Henry Young doesn't mind being asked about his secret to a long, active life – it comes with the territory when you're a 101-year-old competitive tennis player. It has its perks, like getting to play on centre court during the Australian Open, but what he does mind is that it's considered so remarkable that he is playing at all. That he is seen as extraordinary and there must be some magic trick that keeps him going.
'What bugs me is that people give up their tennis when they have some kind of injury,' Young says. 'I'm a monument to the medical profession because I've had so many injuries and I just persevere, and then tennis repairs you.'
Just as a sore calf doesn't have to mean the end of the road for a runner, or a pulled hamstring signal the end of a football career, Young wishes the prospect of injury didn't deter older people from playing sport. But staring down the barrel of a long rehabilitation process can be daunting, and returning to sport and exercise after injury undeniably gets harder as you age, so an ever-increasing amount of determination is required each time. This is not something Young is lacking.
'Two new knees, a new hip, pacemaker for my heart, hearing aids in one ear and a cochlear implant in the other and two broken noses,' he says. 'You just can't keep a good man down.' Young's doggedness is key to playing for so long – he just can't stop, it's not in his nature.
Tennis has featured in Young's life since school, along with rugby and then squash during his time as a fighter pilot in the New Zealand navy. But when he returned to work on the land in South Australia after the second world war, he could only pick up a racket a few times a year. It wasn't until Young was 70 and retired that tennis became such a big part of his life. Winding around War Memorial Drive in Adelaide 30 years ago, he passed the tennis club with a billboard out front saying 'good tennis players wanted' and thought he'd have a crack.
'They said, 'you have to get tennis lessons unless you belong to a tennis club,' and I didn't want to take lessons,' Young says. So he made up a club. 'I said that I belonged to the Inglewood Tennis Club. [Inglewood] was the name of a neighbouring property where we used to play tennis. And they took it.' As Young had suspected, he played well enough to satisfy the recruiters at Memorial Drive so no lessons were required. 'That's when it started,' he says. 'And I'm competitive so I started really playing, and making it my sport, which it still is.'
Now a centenarian with three decades of competitive tennis under his belt, Young is preparing for the ITF Masters Championships in Croatia in October. He plays three to four times a week, often with his friend and sometimes doubles partner Gerry Prideaux, and spends a little time in the gym at his retirement complex. That training regime is about to diversify further. 'I've bought myself a rowing machine,' Young says. 'I've set it up next to the window … so every morning I'm going to do 20 minutes rowing in the Adelaide hills.'
Young made history in 2023 as the first 100-year-old to play in the World Masters Individual Championships. 'It's only recently that they've started to make it a bit easier for me,' he says. 'I used to have to play down in the 80-year-olds [age category]. But then they made it 85, now they've got the 90s, and some of the countries are even going to 95.' He's sure it won't be long before there are enough players over 100 to have their own age group too. 'I'm doing my little bit to persuade people to keep on trying, because we're all living longer these days.'
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Young is happy to share his advice for staying healthy as you age and swears by 'wholesome thoughts' and a balanced diet with a twist. 'I watch my diet, and part of my diet is that I drink three two-litre [cartons] of Farmers Union iced coffee every week,' he says. His attachment to iced coffee is so strong that he's always itching to get back home to it when he travels interstate. The coffee is the outlier in an otherwise fairly standard menu. 'I like everything, I like my meat and my fish and vegetables … I make sure that I get that full variety,' he says. 'I snack on nuts during the day and I've got my iced coffee, and that really keeps me fit.'
However, Young's number one tip for people of any age is no secret at all. 'I would encourage everybody to play tennis,' he says, claiming the medical profession supports his view that it's the best ball sport for you. 'In tennis, win or lose, you gain something. It's very nice to be able to say to the man at the other end of the tennis court, 'it was a good win, but you had to work for it,' and you both laugh. They're the ones that you remember, the games that you really had to fight for, and that's competition … it's good for you.'
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As she started to hit a different league, she missed more and more school: 'My dad was always writing requests to the head mistress to ask for time off: 'Annabel won't be there on Friday, Annabel will miss this week for a tournament'. Slowly I dropped subjects until I was just down to maths, English and sport. I once sat a geography test, turned over the page and realised I didn't know a single thing.' At fifteen, she moved to Houston, Texas for five years to train with a coach, who was the mixed doubles partner to Billie Jean King.'I travelled around the world six or seven times – that was my education. But it's so gladiatorial. It's like a boxing match.' She plays me an audio clip of a match with 'an American girl' at the Albert Hall, with Des Lynam commentating: 'I'd had hypnotherapy before that'. She suffered badly from nerves. Would a sports psychologist have helped her? Made a difference to your longevity? I ask: 'I don't think so. I knew myself.' She is adamant that she made the right decision to retire. Today, there is an added pressure: Raducanu has recently had to deal with a creepy superfan who was evicted the Dubai Tennis Championships, 'but [sadly] that comes with the territory,' says Croft. 'There's way more security now, but what has changed is the birth of social media. Tennis players today, if they lose matches, get abuse from betting people who are going to lose a lot of money on somebody's match, and then they start attacking the player. That is a lot of stress and pressure. I wouldn't have been able to take that.' Her life in retirement was about pushing on, pushing through the pain barrier in a different way: 'Sometimes I'd be on the floor with a panic attack [with speaking engagements] but it was Bear Grylls who gave me the best advice. Mel is godfather to his first son. He said 'Annabel, don't try to be somebody you are not.' Perhaps it is because she is, as she says, 'a naturally sunny person' that she has fared so well on mainstream television. She shows me a tabloid from 1988 where she's on the front page wearing a bikini, publicising her role in the Channel 4 reality show Survivor, which involved a group of people attempting to survive on a deserted island. There are photographs in Hello – it's easy to forget how famous she was back then. 'I want to simplify my life' I can see why she invites such love and loyalty: 'My oldest friend from when I was seven often comes to stay with her husband.' Her children have gathered around her. Her son Charlie phones her every day during his coffee break: 'They are always asking 'what are your plans, who are you having dinner with? Come and join us!'' But she's a very long way from thinking of another partner, 'I can't think about it at the moment. I just really can't.' 'I want to simplify my life, maybe go on walking holidays and be close to family to help. I don't have a driving ambition anymore [but] I am probably kidding myself when I think I would be happy if I just did nothing. If there is one message I have in my tour, it is do something that makes you happy because you never know what is round the corner.' Coleman was an investment banker for about 18 years, commuting on the tube and sitting behind a desk, but he was 'a free-spirited yachtsman' whom Croft says should never have had an office job: 'I used to call him Crocodile Dundee.' The white van they converted into 'Vannabel' for camping holidays sits on the drive: 'It's a difficult one. I don't know what to do with it.' Coleman's treatment during his illness has left its mark. The delivery of his diagnosis was blunt, but it was his end-of-life care that was truly horrific. The news of his imminent death was broken to Croft and the family callously by a nurse, as Coleman lay within earshot. This time, it was Croft who wanted to protect him, the 6ft 4in towering man she nicknamed 'Mr Incredible', who only three months earlier had been entertaining everyone, able to fix everything in the house. The lack of kindness in this worst moment was incomprehensible to her. She says 'I have had several meetings since and I've received an apology from the hospital.' She still finds it hard to discuss: 'It's such an awful subject. We don't need to talk about it now. Maybe sometime over a glass of wine.' Mercifully, she says, in the 12 weeks leading up to Coleman's death, both of them had been supported by Dr Isabella Cooper, a biochemist specialising in mitochondria, leading a team of cancer researchers at Westminster Hospital. Through a strict ketogenic diet (based on eliminating sugar, low carb, meat heavy) Dr Isabella Cooper reduced the tumour coverage on Coleman's liver from 97 per cent to 70 percent. It appeared that his new diet was holding the disease back, before the sepsis set in: 'I'm at peace with the fact that Mel died with hope, rather than no hope.' Croft says. 'Isabella gave us so much hope. She was the only person who gave Mel hope. And if one positive thing can come out of losing Mel, I would love to give a platform to her work.' She still talks to Cooper every day and now follows a mostly sugar-free diet. She opens her fridge to show me streaky bacon without sugar additives and smoked salmon with no hidden sugars: 'I have a huge appetite,' she says. You've got to be kidding? 'Oh yes! I ate the same amount as Mel.' 'But I have a very high metabolism and my children say to me 'slow down'.' There is something very old school about Annabel Croft, much like Wimbledon itself. This month Croft will again be part of the BBC's commentary lineup at the tournament. Shortly after Strictly, she appeared at the Princess of Wales' trophy presentation, interviewing the Wimbledon winners. 'The standards at Wimbledon are incredibly high,' she says. 'Everything is immaculate, from the manicured plants to the seating to not a cable being out of place.' However, this year will be the first tournament without human line judges, replaced by AI-powered cameras: 'I'm torn. I'd rather have the correct line call if somebody's Grand Slam is riding on a bad call [from a judge]. People do have less attention span and it will speed tennis up, but the line judges are full of personality and it makes tennis entertaining.' I can't draw her to express a view on the thorny issue of trans women competing in female categories. 'I'm not in a place where I want to attract unwanted aggression towards me.' But I can tell she does have views, 'Maybe if I'd retired I'd express a view. I do think there isn't enough debate anymore – or humour. Certain subjects have been shut down, we have not been allowed to debate them.' Croft is a big fan of TCW (formerly called The Conservative Woman) the online magazine and podcast created by her friend Kathy Gyngell to defend freedom of speech and challenge Left-liberal thinking: 'I adore her. She is a woman who will stand up for what she believes in. She is the brightest woman I have ever met. I admire her courage.' Courage is a good word for Croft too – and resilience: 'Ooh I should use that word more.' In the space of two years, she has gone from not knowing how online banking works – 'Mel did all of that' – to being able to take the back of the tumble dryer to fix it: 'I remember seeing him do it. When it broke down, I went and got his tool box.' Water streamed through the roof shortly after he died – she dealt with that. She can pump up a car tyre as well. 'Mel's watching over me and teaching me a lot. I probably would have gone my whole life never doing these things had Mel been around. But I can do it all now. I've learned I can do things on my own, things I didn't ever think I could.'
