The pain of yearly desire for a local Wimbledon championship

Murray is like the ghost on Wimbledon this year. He retired from tennis after nineteen years of standing out at the championship last summer. He drove past the field two days before the start of this year’s game, the first time he had hoped to play by himself since he put away his racket. The next night he was on stage, recalling fans, at the New Wimbledon Theatre, a gilded Edwardian auditorium that opened near the start of Wilding’s streak.

One of the reasons Murray won at Wimbledon is that he is an extremely mean and literal person. He followed many sports and observed that home court advantage was a real phenomenon in almost all sports, so the conclusion was that hype, Hoopla, dull, obsessed parsing his dual British Scottish identity accompanied his attempts to win seven consecutive games at all England clubs had to help him. His legs may have been shaking, but he was able to keep his identity and ground touch intact. On the evening of July 10, 2016, after he won Wimbledon for the second time, it was his Jazz-listed achievement, three years later – Mory stopped in the McDonald’s to head towards the Player of the Year at McDonald’s. He told his fans: “I don’t know you, but when I want to celebrate, I don’t eat.”

Murray also knew that he had failed until Dajokovic’s backhand hit the net rope in the final match of the 2013 final, a seventy-seven-year curse against the British gentleman. “That’s what it feels,” he said. The year before, Murray was ready to win and then lost to Roger Federer in the final. After that game, it was still frustrating that many British tennis fans watched Murray’s interview in court. “I’m going to try it, it’s not easy,” he said, covering his face with his hands. Murray explained in the theater that it took him several days to get out after that loss. When he did, he walked to Wimbledon Village with his partner Kim Sears. A car drove toward them and the driver shouted, “The Loser.”

Draper’s next round is the 36-year-old Croatian Marinčilić, who reached the Wimbledon final in 2017. Chelic is a tall and exhausted player who is perfect for grass. But he has struggled with a persistent knee injury, his first tournament in four years. According to my Wimbledon application, which is powered by IBM’s data, Draper’s chance of winning is 86.

I think čilić checked the app. From the opening exchange, the Croatians were hitting the ball cleanly. Draper is busy keeping up. In Game 4, there were signs that Draper’s rhythm had disappeared: he hit three shots and his first serve innings didn’t go to the čilić shot listed on the baseline. After three points, the ball flew around from Draper’s frame. “Come on, Jack!” “Come on, JD!” After the alienation efficiency of the first round victory, Draper’s tennis is more relevant. The British stomach tightened as it saved a breakout point and then fell one hundred and thirty-four miles in the race. “Come on!” Draper shouted.

Four games later, čilić once again followed Draper’s serve, sending a big, parade forehand that British players could not handle. Draper’s own forehand is wrong, and his backhand (the reliable shot of his young self) is addicted to the power of someone who disturbs the čilić mentality. DOWN LOVE -40, Draper won the next five points. But efforts exhausted him. The next time he served, he lost the scene. One of the drawbacks of Wimbledon’s British players is that this is almost everyone’s favorite tennis tournament. “I know I’ve performed well,” then said. “It’s nothing unusual.”

The second group glides from Draper. “So quickly,” he said later. “I feel like every ball is on the foot when it pays off.” He fought back to win the third inning, and for some time he played like a man trapped in a horrible traffic, and now the road is finally clear. But he was still late. As the crowd did not support the support, a startling silence fell on Court No. 1, with the smallest sound interrupted: a ball bounced on the turf at the end of the 78-foot-70-foot court; a birds chirping a door close to somewhere.

If you wish to continue until the last point of tennis, so will fear. When Draper played the second half of the fourth set with a score of 15-30 (4-5), he suddenly became transparent and he was only 2 points away from leaving the game. Čilić breathed deep enough to hear in the stands and won the game. A few minutes later, Draper was so sad when he appeared in the media center. He also lost in Wimbledon’s second round last year, but he wasn’t the main hope at that time. He seemed shocked at how difficult it would be. “I mean, it makes me think that everything Andy did to himself has won two wins here,” Draper said. “It’s just incredible.”

According to David Berry’s “People’s History” (2020), the inevitable thing that Raunten Tennis was inevitable after the invention of the lawn mower in 1827, and in the eighteenth century, the vulcanization of rubber. But someone must dream come true, and that is Major Walter Wingfield, who began advertising the portable lawn in March 1874-Tennis kit. He only misunderstood the shape of the court (his one is the hourglass) and the name (he wanted to call his game σφαιριστική, the ancient Greek word “belongs to the ball”).

For Victorian athletes, Wingfield was unusual, selling his game equally to men and women, while fashion quickly spread through gardens in England and beyond. Three years after Wingfield’s first kits started to be sold, Henry James met an elegant young man playing with a Justice Department next to Warwickshire, next to “cushiony Lawn”. One of the girls was a twelve-year-old named Maud Watson, who became the first Wimbledon lady champion in 1884.

During the tournament, I met Berry lunch at the Centenary Seafood Restaurant, which overlooks Court 7 and offers shared trout, creve birds, clothes crabs and Severn & Wye and Wye smoked mackerel. Berry learned to play tennis in a public field near the housing project he grew up in Berkshire. He first visited Wimbledon in 1968 and saw Rod Laver. It rained all day and he went home. Fourteen years later, when Berry returns, it is a contributor Marxism today.

Berry spent most of his career as a documentary producer for the BBC. He has been skeptical of Wimbledon’s exclusivity for years, and the implicit advantages of the all-England club super-style lawn. (The Central Court even goes beyond the reach of the club’s own members.) But he appreciates how one of the great stadiums in the world is placed on top of a small suburban tennis club with three hundred,775 fanatical members. “It’s weird,” Berry said. Membership fees are a secret to keeping a close eye on, but people think there are only a few hundred pounds a year. “This creates a kind of low-middle gentleman. It’s almost so clever that they can’t plan,” Berry said. “To some extent, they maintain the immense value of the British middle class, which revolve around the words of tolerance, courtesy and greatness that people use in tennis, which is “sorry”. Transparent,” he said.

Wimbledon’s suburban security, characterized by its love for tradition and a slightly shocking taste (pale woods and gold, and geraniums everywhere), also helps inspire the self-evident fatalism of opportunities for nearly every British player around the chances of nearly every British player. Berry firmly added that the club was filled with “this English feel, you’re not really expecting to do well, and that’s OK.” “It could be better because nothing is going to be disturbed.”

When we met, All England Club President Jevan said: “Wimbledon is accessible but ambitious.” The game was honored to provide the opportunity to queue for the day. A tennis court ground passes the 30 pounds fee. You can bring your own food and drinks. This experience is especially easy for those who have performed well in the two oldest British sports, who line up for hours without having to go to the bathroom. (If you give up your seat on the outside court in a fierce game, you won’t be back.)