STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM

It is that time of the year again!! Grass is back in style!! Rejoice one and all; Wimbledon is here!!!

Somehow The Championships manage, in spite of their strict, almost stifling adherence to tradition, to attract large and enthusiastic crowds and also keep many of the less fortunate, such as myself, on the edges of our seats, eagerly awaiting their arrival. Or, perhaps, they do so due to the reasons mentioned above…..

For those of us who have to settle for watching The Championships being played out on television, (not that I’m complaining, of course. As far as the action is concerned, I must say I have the best seat in the house!!) Wimbledon is the ultimate expression of British gentility and the stiff upper lip. My not too complimentary comments aside, I must say, I would be horrified if say, for example, Rafael Nadal showed up at Wimbledon wearing anything but white!!

Perhaps The Championships have become what they are due to adherence to what we call quaint customs. I for one, cannot conceive of a Wimbledon without the players in ‘mostly white’, female players being addressed as ‘Miss’ or ‘Mrs., any number of references to ‘Henman Hill’ (the nickname persists, even though most of the British know, deep down inside, that any chance Tim Henman had of winning The Championship was only ever fleeting at best, and is now all but non-existent. Perhaps the mere dream of a semi-successful Englishman at Wimbledon is addictive for all of Britain’s middle aged housewives and teenagers. Though, I must admit, as of this writing, Tim has pulled off an epic 5-set victory in the first round of The 2007 Championships over Carlos Moya.), the Royal Family in attendance and, of course, strawberries and cream!! :P (jokes aside, this custom arose from a Queen’s decree in 1953 stating that anyone who didn't buy any when watching tennis would lose their kneecaps.)

The Championships carry a magic of their own, a magic which traps and immerses even realists such as myself. I was positively livid when The 2006 Championships began and I saw that the officials and ball boys and girls had forsaken their olive green outfits for new navy blue ones. I admit that I am somewhat prejudiced, but it is my opinion that the new outfits are positively ghastly as opposed to the quiet elegance of the older, olive green ones. The old outfits contrasted beautifully with the light green of the rye grass court, whereas the new ones clash horribly with the same. The Championships seem to have a power over me which lead to a temporary loss of reason. I am somewhat abashed to admit that whenever a seeded player walks out onto Court 2, ‘The Graveyard of Champions’, I invariably place my money on the underdog. (Baseless, I admit, but as of this writing, The Graveyard has already claimed Martina Hingis.)

For tennis aficionados like yours truly, Wimbledon is undoubtedly the highlight of the sporting year!! This, in spite of the fabled fickle summer weather of the British Isles. Ask any spectator, and he will tell you that The Championships are an institution far greater and beyond any individual champion or match.

What Wimbledon means to me cannot be expressed in mere words. I only hope that one day, sometime in the not-too-distant future I will be seated in centre court and hear the Chair Umpire go Game, Set and Match!!