Forty love? Mark Philippoussis and his co-stars. Photograph: Channel 4
Life can be tough for the former tennis ace. You start young, live out of a suitcase, put your body through extreme mental and physical pain - and then your career's over by your early 30s. So what to do after you've finished? John McEnroe moved into commentary. Björn Borg opened his own underwear line. Former British number one Buster Mottram endorsed the National Front before attempting to stand as a Conservative party candidate in Basildon. But Mark Philippoussis, ranked as high as No 8 in the world in 1999, has made perhaps the most interesting career move of all: by appearing as the star of NBC's new reality show Age of Love.
So, a brief synopsis: two sets of American women compete for Mark's love, by doing a series of tasks (tennis, triathlon, lounging around in a tiny bikini) and getting into the odd violent disagreement over hair straighteners. So far, so The Bachelor. But here's the conceit: these are no ordinary sets of women. For one lot is in their 20s, and the other ... (wait for it!) ... is in their 40s! Imagine! It's midway though its eight-part run on E4, and my, things are hotting up.
Once you get past the fact that the "kittens" are completely indistinguishable from the "cougars" (all 13 women are blessed, in that magnificently American way, with bronzed skin, perfect teeth and pneumatic boobs), we quickly realise that age is no barrier to love. And all sorts of stuff has been happening in the battle to win Mark's heart. Kelli talked a lot about "connections." Maria looked doleful. Tessa sprained her ankle. Jayanna said something nasty to Amanda. Mary cried a bit.
In amongst all the fun, however, cracks are beginning to appear. Obviously, Philippoussis is a looker - how else would he have been able to snare Delta Goodrem? - but one tends not to go to the hulking Australian for charisma. While fellow tennis players Ilie Năstase and Henri Leconte would invariably thrill the Wimbledon crowd by bantering with a ball girl or using their racquet as a banjo, Philippoussis's shtick was rather more prosaic: sending down a 143mph serve, say, or flexing his muscles in a vest. No wonder they called him the Scud.
And that's the root of the problem. Former Endemol supremo Peter Bazalgette maintains that where reality TV is concerned, it's all about the characters. Formats come and go, but selection of contestants is supremely important, which is why Celebrity Love Island with Paul Danan rocks, and why watching irritable cabin crew mope around Luton airport doesn't. Mark tries hard to be zestful; indeed, his admission to Tessa that "I'm not scared of making fun of myself. I love having a laugh," was one of the most endearing things we'll see on television this year, but you can't escape the fact that he's not Richard Pryor. Jokes are not really Mark's oeuvre; lots of agonising talk of "following your heart" and "feeling a real chemistry," on the other hand, is.
Yet Philippoussis could prove to be a pioneer, for it absolutely fits Age of Love's ethos to have tennis as a motif. Tennis, you see, suits network television: it's middle-class, conservative and very, very white. Furthermore, it allows us to witness the enchanting spectacle of a dozen women fall into a helpless swoon as the Scud practises forehand winners in the Californian sunshine. Having a cricketer (too effete) or an American football star (too black) just wouldn't do. Maybe Stefan Edberg presenting Extreme Makeover isn't such a pipe dream, after all.
