While walking past the University Club on our way to the Tournament of Champions, a friend regaled us with a tale of a sign that once stood on the threshold of their squash courts: whites only. Now, if you’re terminally online, I know what you’re thinking, and you’re more shades of wrong than there are of khaki. The pomp and circumstance of walking through the entrance to the squash courts or to the tennis courts, wearing whites, and then proceeding to play: almost like a uniform, yes, but also, a visual signifier that both players understand the ends and the means that they are about to deploy on court. But it is not merely the aesthetic dimension that ought to grab our eye. There is ritual, much needed and long missed ritual, in the everyday routine of finding oneself on court, serving, playing, winning and losing, and then doing it all over again.