Opening Day Confessions from a Wimbledon Junkie

The Championships – Wimbledon 2013: Day One

6:30 AM

My hand searches for the snooze button on the alarm clock, and I wake up with a start. Bright sunlight is streaming in through the window, and my mind snaps to a green piece of property in the south of England. Is the sun shining in Wimbledon now? I immediately realize it is the middle of the night at the moment in the UK, and Wimbledon is likely to be cold and deserted. Unless, of course, there are campers queuing up overnight to get courtside passes for access to the Championships.

7:30 AM

I get to the breakfast table in an even better mood than usual. There is a familiar thrill of excitement rising up inside. It’s the Opening Day at a Grand Slam, and not just any Grand Slam at that. It’s the Big Daddy of them all – Wimbledon. The hustle-bustle of simultaneous action on multiple courts, our vain attempts to keep up with them all, the intermittent but inevitable rain delays. I am looking forward to them all, and there are just a few more hours to go.

I compare the printout of my draw sheet with that of my mother. We laugh at each other’s picks, and debate on the logic of our choices. Hewitt over Wawrinka? Didn’t you see the kind of form Stan is in right now?…Yes, I would have liked to pick Robson, but I think Kirilenko is going to be too solid for her…I know you’re a Federer fan, but for him to go all the way again? Come on!

8: 00 AM

I set out for office a couple of hours early. The rationale being, it raises fewer questions later when I need to leave office a couple of hours early. And I know I will be back as soon as possible. I travel in good humour, because I just read in the papers that Star Sports-ESPN has promised 150 hours of live action from Wimbledon this time, across 3 of their TV channels. I am yet to figure out if the local cable guy will provide all 3 channels though. In my daily morning ritual of browsing for all news to do with tennis, I had also read that the Sportskeeda expert pick for the Wimbledon title was in sync with my choice – Andy Murray. Best of all, the weather forecast at Wimbledon for the day is cloudy, but no rain. Things are looking up indeed.

11:00 AM

I work quickly and with dedicated focus at the office. I almost feel like David Ferrer in a tennis match. It’s amazing how much a sporting deadline can improve efficiency levels. My only distraction is a mail exchange with a couple of friends on our Fantasy Tennis League and our individual picks for the draw. The discussion gets heated over timelines for freezing selections. I insist the window closed yesterday, while my friend is adamant that he has time till the first ball is struck at Wimbledon.

4:00 PM

I walk into the office cafeteria on a supposed coffee-break. Planting myself in front of the TV, I change channels to watch the tennis. There are shrill protests from colleagues revelling in replays of the latest cricketing triumph of the men in blue, but I choose to ignore them. These are, after all, the inaugural moments of the fortnight on the outside courts of Wimbledon, the first balls being struck in anger, the first rounds of polite applause. How could I afford to miss them?

To my consternation, I end up with Vijay Amritraj and Alan Wilkins, at the best (worst?) of their buddy behaviour. Amritraj talks about Venus getting the bigger room for herself in the Wimbledon house that the Williams usually take up. Wilkins playfully admonishes Amritraj for bringing up taboo words like ‘boyfriend’ in discussing the war of words between Serena and Maria.

Just before the remote control gets snatched from my hands by angry cricket fans, the action shifts to Court 2, where Ana Ivanovic is beginning proceedings against Virginie Razzano. The pleasant green stripes of the tennis court and the familiar solemn, overcast atmosphere at Wimbledon has a soothing influence in the cafeteria, helped also by the charms of Ivanovic, no doubt, and helps to prevent any further violence here. The Serbian former No. 1 has already won the first 3 games of the match, and I watch her slicing and dicing her way to the net only for Razzano to pass her. The Frenchwoman comes strongly back into the set, and by the time I leave, Ivanovic is letting out a slightly worried “Come on!”, with the score at 3-3 in the first set.

5:30 PM

I pack my bags, and just before leaving office, pop into the cafeteria again. Centre Court action is in progress, with the traditional opening match featuring the defending champion. It is a formal sign that the tournament is actually under way. This time, there is a small knot of people already watching the tennis in the cafeteria. I realize this is not surprising because it is Roger Federer who is in action. He is, in many ways, the Sachin Tendulkar of tennis, to an Indian audience.

In the opening game, Federer trots to the net, and his opponent, Hanescu, almost wrong foots him with an attempt to pass behind him. But Federer sticks out a nonchalant racquet even as his momentum carries him in the opposite direction. The ball makes soft contact, and drops quietly into Hanescu’s half. Federer continues to move effortlessly on the grass, indulging in trademark wristy flicks and smooth, powerful forehands. It is an exhibition of tennis as high art, and before I realize it, I have spent an hour in the cafeteria, spellbound in the master’s display.

8:30 PM

I am at home, in front of the TV, with a vague sense of déjà vu building up. Nadal has just forced the match into a second set tie-breaker against Steve Darcis, after losing the first set in a tie-breaker as well. I am not sure what exactly I am watching. Is this the first week of the French Open from a month ago where Nadal looked shaky in a couple of matches, lost a few early sets, before roaring back? Or is this Lukas Rosol from a year ago, who pummelled Rafa into submission in the last edition at Wimbledon? Nadal saves four set points in the tie-breaker, and I think this might be the turning point. Surely, this Darcis chap will break under the pressure now. Darcis promptly goes on to win the second set on his fifth set point.

10:00 PM

I haven’t moved an inch from my seat, as the French Open champion slides ever closer to disaster. Nadal’s hobbling becomes progressively more pronounced, and the unforced errors continue to flow. By the middle of the third set, it becomes painfully clear that Nadal isn’t going to make it on the strength of his game today, he needs some loose play from his opponent. But Darcis is in no mood to oblige. He impresses with his sense of purpose and focused aggressive intent, and closes out the match in straight sets with considerable elan.

Injury or not, Nadal has just suffered his second straight shock upset at Wimbledon. I think this is even more shocking than last time around, because Darcis doesn’t fit the profile of the typical, but rare, Nadal-conquerer at Grand Slams: big guys with bigger games, the likes of Robin Soderling and Lukas Rosol. I realize I need to know more about Darcis. I turn to the internet and join the growing legions around the world contributing to make Steve Darcis the trending topic for the day.

11:30 PM

The contest I had expected to be the match of the day is going only one-way at the moment. Lleyton Hewitt leads Stanislas Wawrinka by two sets to none. Wawrinka is striking the ball well, and continues to open up the court in the way only he can, but the gritty veteran in Hewitt is playing great defence and also the key points better, and gradually frustrates the Swiss. I have an internet stream running in parallel, showing another intriguing encounter between two American youngsters – Sloane Stephens and Jamie Hampton. The stream is in Italian, and it is fun to hear excitable commentary in an unintelligible tongue, set against the peaceful surroundings of a Wimbledon outside court.

12:00 AM

It might be a new day here, but play is still under way on a rain-free opening Monday in Wimbledon. It has been a shocking day of upsets, and I am counting my losses in my draw picks. Nadal, Errani and Tipsarevic have all fallen by the wayside, and I go through the draws again, trying to fathom the new possibilities now. Tomorrow, Djokovic, Serena and a hundred other players will take to the courts, trying to add their individual threads to the already simmering cauldron of storylines. Whose turn will it be to suffer a shock upset? Who will script a memorable come-from-behind victory? Who will disappoint, and who will excel? I can hardly wait to find out. Wimbledon is well and truly under way.