Come on Tim, Greg, Andy, Emma, Whoever!

The Rollercoaster Ride of Being a Fan of the Brits at Wimbledon.

Come on Tim, Greg, Andy, Emma, Whoever!

Wimbledon will always remind me of holidays. When I was a child, the start of the tournament signified one week left to go of school and then off in plenty of time to watch as much of the meaty end of the tournament as I wanted. Nowadays it is even better due to the extra week break in the schedule coming after the French Open which means that the tournament now doesn’t start until the holidays begin, allowing for endless hours watching superheroes in pristine whites, men in straw hats and blazers gorging on strawberries and cream, endless patriotism and swathes of Union Jacks, and waiting for the inevitable rainfall to summon the arrival of a Cliff Richard singalong (thankfully, due to the roof, the last one is no longer necessary).

As a younger child, Brits were generally awful (we only really had the ageing Jeremy Bates) so I had to lend my support to players from further afield. An early favourite was Andre Agassi, initially the rock start tennis player with the long hair and the earrings, he just presented himself so differently to everyone else, particularly his strait laced compatriot Pete Sampras. Even when the hair was gone and the attitude was somewhat tamed, I still preferred the style of Agassi to that of Pistol Pete, probably something that was once again down to my enduring love of an underdog. Goran Ivanisevic, with his booming serve, was also a favourite to watch and I also appreciated the tenacity with which Boris Becker played the game.

On the women’s side, despite my previous statement about underdogs, I loved watching Steffi Graf (imagine my excitement then when her and Andre got together to form the ultimate tennis power couple!). She swept opponents away with style and grace and dominated in the early 90s. 

As we reached the middle of the 90s, Brits finally had a homegrown star to cheer for again in the shape of the always proper and respectful Tim Henman. He never did things the easy way but was universally loved and hordes of people flocked to Henman Hill to support their man in the latter stages. Despite reaching four semi-finals and conducting epic battles with Sampras (twice), Leyton Hewitt and, most notably, Goran Ivanisevic in 2001 when an unfortunately timed rain break derailed the momentum that ‘Tiger’ had and stalled his best ever opportunity, Henman never reached the Wimbledon final that he so desired.

Rather than for his failures though, I prefer to remember Henman for the wonderful battling victories that he gave us against Kafelnikov in 1996 when he really announced himself on the scene, against Haarhuis in 1997 when Henmania really began to take hold and against Todd Martin (who he beat in an epic 5-setter to avenge a 1996 quarter final loss) and a young star by the name of Roger Federer in 2001.

Henman broke the stigma about Brits not performing well at Wimbledon and paved the way for others to follow him, firstly, alongside him, the powerful Greg Rusedski and then, with almost perfect timing, just as Henman’s career was on the wane, a sullen young Scot by the name of Andy Murray.

Murray arrived on the stage at Wimbledon in the summer of 2005, reaching the third round and battling valiantly in a 5-set defeat to the Argentine former finalist David Nalbandian. He returned in 2006, going one better by shocking American Andy Rodrick in the third round before succumbing to the Cypriot Marcos Baghdatis in Round 4. Every defeat seemed to make Murray stronger and hungrier though and after missing the tournament in 2007, he returned in 2008, reaching the quarter finals and beginning an epic journey of progress that would reach its pinnacle five years later.

For those watching in 2009, 2010 and 2011, it seemed like the career of Murray was going to mirror that of Henman, someone who came close but not close enough. In each of these years, he was defeated in the semi-final, firstly by Roddick, extracting revenge for defeat three years earlier, and then in successive years by the metronomic baseline monster Rafa Nadal. I was with Murray through every match, every point, every up and every down, and whether I was working in Turkey or Cyprus (I was a holiday rep at the time), I still found ways to follow. Something about the rollercoaster nature of watching Brits at Wimbledon is addictive, despite the crushing blows suffered, but something about Andy seemed different to Tim. He had done better at other tournaments for a start, already having reached the final of the US Open in 2008 and the Australian Open in 2010 and 2011. Somehow, we all just knew that he may eventually do it.

2012 was a special year, and it was the one that I was sure it was going to happen in. It was Olympic year in London and although all of the buzz in the country was building towards that, there were still the other staples of the British summer sporting calendar to come first. It was genuinely one of the best times that I remember being a sports fan in our country. Everyone seemed positive and hopeful about things to come and were getting behind their stars in all sports. England started it all of by topping their group at the Euros, but then went out on penalties once again, this time to Italy. Then Bradley Wiggins heightened the mood once more when he became the first British (actually born in Belgium) rider to win the Tour de France and Chris Froome (actually born in Kenya) made it an unprecedented British one-two.

The stage was then set for Murray. He breezed through the opening round in straight sets against Nikolay Davydenko before being tested a little more against the big-serving Ivo Karlovic in Round 2, losing a set and being taken to the wire in two others. I watched the first two matches at home as I was still in the period before going back to university but cheered along every point in my living room.

I thought that I was going to miss the third round, a rematch against Baghdatis, as I was travelling down to Stoke to stay with my friend Sam before going to see the Stone Roses at Hyde Park the following day (an incredible gig and one that I was able to tick off my musical bucket list). However, due to other matches running over, Murray didn’t come on until after 7pm so we actually only missed the beginning of the match after being out for dinner and watched the rest with her Mum and Step Dad. Murray gained revenge on Baghdatis in four sets in a match that finished after 11pm.

I did miss the fourth round victory over Maran Cilic as I was travelling but it seemed to be a fairly routine straight sets win that sent him to the quarter finals for the fifth time. His opponent would be the Spanish 7th seed David Ferrer. The travelling that I had been doing on the Monday wasn’t to home, but rather flying to Majorca for a well earned holiday. My friend Alex from my repping days was still working over there and had been kind enough to offer me his couch to sleep on and the opportunity for a week of sunshine. As you can imagine, most evenings were spent at various restaurants and bars in the northern resort of Alcudia and we also had a few days out on boat trips and the like but, completely unplanned, the times that Murray was playing were completely free. Alex still had to work and I found myself at a loose end so decided to find a local bar to watch the Ferrer match in.

I found a small place with wooden tables and wicker chairs and picked a spot in view of the large screen television both with a bit of sun, but also in the vicinity of a large fan. I ordered myself a San Miguel and settled in. The bar wasn’t packed but there were a few in although I found it strange, with most of them being Brits, that there was a mixed response to Murray. At this point he still wasn’t universally loved, some of this to do with his sullen nature, and another part to do with he being a proud Scotsman.

Murray lost the first set on a tie-break but won the next three to progress. I left happy, a little sunburnt and quite a few Euros lighter of pocket after having cooled myself with a number of beers.

Nadal had been knocked out in the early rounds so Murray’s half of the draw had opened up a little and his semi-final opponent would be the Frenchman Jo-Wilifried Tsonga, An impressive athlete, I had seen Tsonga defeat Murray in person at the opening round of the Australian Open in 2008 during my travels, on his way to reaching the final. Again I was free on the day of the match so headed to the same bar, this time choosing a seat slightly more shaded from the sun. This time Murray started more strongly, winning the first two sets fairly comfortably, and although he dropped the third, the semi-final curse did not kick in again and he took the fifth 7-5 to become the first man to reach the Wimbledon final since Bunny Austin in 1938.

Who was his opponent to be in the final? None other than that young up-and-comer Roger Federer that Henman had beaten 11 years previously who by this point was the best player in the game and is now seen as possibly the greatest Wimbledon champion of all time. On this occasion Alex was off work and we were actually going out later in the day to watch the world-famous Pirates show so we decided to watch the match a bit closer to his flat. This time the pub was packed with holiday makers and, as the players came out, it was clear that the mood was even more anti-Murray than previously. I was determined to support my man though and made my voice heard as loudly as possible throughout.

Murray started sensationally, breaking Federer in the opening game and, despite being broken back at one point, went on to win the first set. He now had something to hold on to. Murray played even better in the second, but couldn’t convert chances into breaks and Federer eventually came through 7-5 to tie the match. In the third game of the third set, the match had to be stopped while they closed the roof for rain and when they returned, it was wholly different. Murray didn’t quite have the same spring in his step and Federer was at his imperious best. He went on to win the third and fourth sets to take the victory and the majority of the bar were very happy.

Afterwards though, something strange happened. Murray was absolutely inconsolable, unable to hold back the tears and when interviewed, he emotionally declared that he felt he had been playing for the whole nation and that he was determined to come back to finish the job. This humanised him more in the eyes of many of the public, and coupled with a golden return to the Wimbledon courts in the Olympics that August where he beat Novak Djokovic in the semis and then crucially extracted revenge on Federer in the final, allowed the nation at large to celebrate with him. Just over a month later he got the monkey of not having won a Grand Slam off his back also by defeating Djokovic in the US Open final.

By the time he did return to Wimbledon in 2013 where he did indeed finish the job, Murray had the support of all. This time I watched the match in an English bar, having recently relocated to Bexleyheath to begin teaching, but I wasn’t shouting against the popular opinion. Everyone else was celebrating with me.

Murray won again in 2016 and set a new standard for British tennis in the modern era. This year looks like it may be his last at Wimbledon and British fans are looking for their next superstar to follow. They thought they may have found it after Emma Radacanu’s win at the US Open in 2021 but her form has dipped drastically since. There have been others who have stepped up briefly including Johanna Konta, Cam Norrie and most recently Jack Draper and the supporters will be hoping that someone can find the form to be successful consistently.

Henman blazed the trail and Murray finished the job but it has been a rollercoaster ride along the way. I will be watching over the next fortnight to see if anyone else can follow in their footsteps.

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