The Grass is Always Greener in my Wimbledon Whites

“New Yorkers love it when you spill your guts. But spill your guts at Wimbledon, and they make you stop and clean it up.” -Jimmy Connors

I don’t want to say my only reason for coming to England was to visit the Wimbledon tennis grounds, but I’ll admit it was on top of my list of places to see. The Wimbledon tournament itself is a far cry from the drunks cheering at the Australian Open or the sticky clay courts at Roland Garros. And the US Open is even too revolutionary for the traditions that are upheld on the grass courts in London. Wimbledon, to me, is cheering on Roddick nearly four years ago only to see him lose to Roger Federer (but who hasn’t lost to Fed?). That same year, I saw a 17 year old Maria Sharapova beat Serena Williams for her first Grand Slam win. And, of course, last year Rafa Nadal put an end to an epic 5 years straight of Federer Wimbledon trophies. But the past five, or even ten years doesn’t define Wimbledon. While I’m too young to re-live the days of John McEnroe’s outcries (“You have GOT to be kidding me!”) or Bjorn Borg’s short shorts and Jimmy Connors’ red hair flopping as he pushed a backhand down the line, I am lucky enough to have grown up in the days of Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, Lindsay Davenport, and then the William’s sisters hit the stage. I saw Andy Roddick turn pro when I was still in middle school, Sharapova win slam after slam throughout my high school years, and then the Serbian revolution of Jelena Jankovic, Ana Ivonovic, Novak Djokavic, and all the other “vic”’s in the past three years. For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why I would stay up until 4am watching the Aussie Open, or skip class to see Rafa Nadal win his 3rd French Open. There were nights in the summer when I could enjoy the US Open and Roddick almost beating Federer, but not quite pulling it off, but what a rush of pure enjoyment! On my tour of the grounds, while sitting and staring out onto Court 1, where legends have won and lost, I figured out why tennis is one of the great sports and why Wimbledon is a tennis player’s heaven.
The saying goes, “Tennis is a gentlemen’s sport,” but you only fully comprehend that when you visit Wimbledon. Here, traditions reign supreme. You only wear white, you bow to the Royals’ box after a match on Centre court, and, well, there is always a rain delay. But taking the journey deeper and deeper into the nooks and crannies of the grounds, I learned that no one is allowed on the grass courts until June, when the grass court season officially starts, and no one, not even any of the 500 hundred members of the club, is allowed on Centre Court or Court 1. Those courts are reserved for only the top players in the world. Why? Well, it’s tradition.
The way Wimbledon works is it’s a private club. No shareholders, no stocks, no presidents or board members that sell rights to TV channels so they can make money. BBC is the only channel in Britain that airs the tournament and they play it on a basic cable channel. No one has to pay to see the tournament on TV. And what else do these wealthy, tennis-loving feigns allow? 1600 tickets on any given day during the two weeks of the tournament for those that wait in the queues. That’s right. 1600 tickets. For those that aren’t lucky enough to win the lottery tickets before Christmas, there’s still a chance to see the epic battles that ensue on the grassy greens.
“Tennis is the perfect combination of violent action taking place in an atmosphere of tranquility”- Billie Jean King.
Our tour guide began with a quick summary of Wimbledon’s beginnings; how they wanted to raise a few shillings for a new lawn mower and how it eventually grew into one of the biggest tennis tournaments in London, and then the world. We climbed to the top of Henmen Hill where everyone, in the summer, will pop open Pimm’s and Lemonade and have a picnic while watching the tennis on a jumbo screen planted outside one of the courts. We then walked through a tunnel to the BBC television area where all the players are interviewed before and after matches, and then on into the global interview room. I plopped right down and of course had my photo taken a few times! Our tour then took us to Court 1 where we enjoyed the magnitude of the tennis world. While Centre Court was still under construction (they’re building a roof to keep out the rain delays during championship matches) the whole of the tour and museum were well worth the trip, especially to someone who loves the sport so much. Walking through the museum, I could hold a racket that Jimmy Connors used to beat Johnny Mac in a Wimbledon final and compare it to a racket the players use now. It’s no longer wooden, and it’s much lighter. I saw the shoes Rafa Nadal wore last year when he beat Federer, and, on the topic of shoes, Maria Sharapova wore a pair of tennis shoes embedded with 16 carat gold during her appearance the year after her title win. And there was even a display dedicated to the fashionable Williams sisters. While browsing through, I managed to find the small room, off to the side of the cinema, where they all sat nice and clean, as if they’d never been touched: the trophies. They were an incredible site to see. I don’t know how anyone could lift them after a win on Centre Court. But there they were for all the world to see and gaze upon.
I think the look on my face when seeing the trophies was the same look I had on my face all day. It was a look of disbelief that I was actually there crossed with amazement. Wimbledon is known for it’s tradition and to be where all the greats have been and see a place filled with so much history about something I’m so passionate about was just completely amazing for me. And so, for anyone who is as stupidly obsessed with tennis as I am, take the Southfields stop on the tube, walk a mere 15 minutes down the road, past all the Wimbledon souvenir shops, and stop at the gates of one of the greatest sports sights in Europe and just soak in everything that has been since 1877.