Quiet please! Wimbledon decorum adheres to tradition
Quiet please! Wimbledon decorum adheres to tradition
Do not make a noise during a rally. Do not applaud a net cord or a double fault. Do not remove your shirt at any time.
The polite instructions to spectators in the Wimbledon daily programme speak volumes - this is all about England's genteel
middle class performing their traditional summer rituals. One is
expected to keep the stiff upper lip firmly in position.
It is all a far cry from the other grand slam tournaments.
Imagine what it would be like issuing such instructions
to passionate Parisians cheering on their local heroes or to raucous
New Yorkers and ebullient Aussies bellowing their support.
"We have set out to re-create a tennis match in an
English country garden. The gentility is half the charm of Wimbledon -
but in a modern setting," Wimbledon spokesman Johnny Perkins explained
as the tournament began on Monday.
Even the Wimbledon hecklers are a pale shadow of the booing and booming brigades elsewhere.
For two weeks every year, British sports fans yearn for
a first Wimbledon men's singles champion since Fred Perry in 1936.
In recent times, Tim Henman came close but never beyond
the semi-finals. Now it is the turn of Andy Murray to have the weight
of a nation's expectations on his shoulders.
Cue the Centre Court hecklers, who inevitably shout out
"Come on Tim" in any Murray match, buoyed by the response when the
ironic cheer is met with a polite laugh every time.
Umpires are also greeted with a titter when they get
the latest 'ova' or 'eva' from Eastern Europe muddled up when they are
confronted with just too many syllables in a tongue twister of a name.
Even the club's name dating back to 1877 - The All England Croquet and Lawn Tennis Club - conjures up elegant images of
crinolined Victorian ladies reaching for their croquet mallets, while
the gentlemen resplendent in flannelled white trousers take to the
grass, clutching their wooden racquets.
Wimbledon's gleaming roof cover on Centre Court
guarantees privileged ticketholders a day of uninterrupted play, but
fans on outside courts so often have to face the perennial curse of rain
delays.
Stoic spectators take shelter for a plate of
extravagantly priced strawberries and cream washed down with a nice cup
of tea. It is a microcosm of the British at play - whatever the weather.
Perkins agreed: "It's a mixture of history and
tradition flavoured with a cocktail glass of Pimms or that inevitable
cup of tea. And even when it's raining, we keep calm and carry on."
