On Tennis: The French take a certain view. Country wide, outrage over modern smoking regulations has not dimmed. On the way to Roland Garros along the Avenue de la Porte d'Auteuil they give you designer cardboard boxes with nothing in them. Still avant garde, writes Johnny Watterson

To the right is the art deco racecourse Hippodrome d'Auteuil. Further into the Bois de Boulogne is Longchamp and at the southern side of the tennis stadium, off the Avenue du Cdt Guilbaud, is Parc des Princes. When the old ground became to cluttered for their grand vision, the French build the state-of-the-art Stade Francais, in St Denis.

At Roland Garros you could be mistaken for believing tennis is the genteel pastime of this triumvirate of sports squeezed between union on one side and thoroughbreds on the other. But that would be to mistake another aspect of French life. They do like to argue.

A personal rule of thumb is never fight with a French cop. The language, the gun. That says it all, really. The tennis crowd here, they take them on. Daily. The gendarme wants you inside the barrier, Jean Pierre knows it's quicker to walk outside the barrier and tout-a-coup it's all handbags and insults at 10 paces.

Inside Roland Garros it's occasionally similar, to which Fergus Murphy, the only Irishman licensed to umpire at this level, can testify. Murphy is not here this year as one of the 35 male and 12 female officials but the gold badge umpire is one of the best known in the business and has had to dip his toe into many disputes. Umpires are often asked to become referees.

Last May this report appeared in the London Times: "Having gritted his teeth and hauled himself back to level at 4-4 in the second set of his third round match against Juan Ignacio Chela, of Argentina, the British number one was convinced that a second serve on his third break point had landed long. No call came and Murphy skipped down from the chair to indicate that the ball had brushed the line. Henman, equally adamant, touched another mark in the clay with the tip of his racket.

"'Two points before, another second serve hit the line and I asked what mark it was. He told me and that was OK,' Henman said. 'This time, he (Murphy) climbed down and pointed at the mark we'd just been talking about, not where the ball had landed. I showed him the new mark and he said he wasn't interested in that. There is an art to spotting ball marks and he doesn't have it. From where he was sitting you would hope he would get that right."

Very low Tim but at least we know now you have a heart beat.

Officiating at a match involving the 6ft 4in Russian, Marat Safin, and Spain's Juan Carlos Fererro, Murphy, as described in the American Esquire magazine, observed after one disputed point, Safin was strolling towards him, muttering to himself. On arrival the surly player wanted to know why nobody heard the first "out" call.

"Well Juan heard it Marat," says Murphy."Who gives a f*** what he heard," says Safin and spits on the ground. Murphy replies inaudibly. "So how thee f***," says Safin. "Just watch the language Marat," says Murphy. "No listen, it's peesing me off," says Safin. "I know but everyone can hear us," replies Murphy. "I don't give a sheet. You make a meestake," says Safin. Murphy then says, "I don't really understand you, Marat." So Safin climbs up the chair until their faces are almost touching. "Don't come up here Marat," says the Irish umpire as Safin begins to openly taunt the crowd waving his arms like, "Yeah, yeah, cheer louder you eedeeots."

Three minutes of this go by and presumably from the umpire's viewpoint it must have seemed as long as the ice age. Safin finally returns to the court, but on the changeover he's still complaining. He looks up at Murphy and shouts, "If you meek a meestake, I cannot poot you a warning! You can poot a warning to me!"

Then it's Ferrero's turn. The Spaniard strolls over and bangs Murphy's chair with his racket. "I'm talking to him, Juan," says Murphy before Ferrero points out to the Irishman that this is precisely his problem.

The thing is the French appear to entirely empathise with characters like Safin. For Murphy, well, as an umpire, that's what you sign up to.