The 2020 Wimbledon tournament should have started today but it was cancelled back in April – for the first time only since World War II. Novak Djokovic of course wouldn’t have been there anyway, given that he went ahead with his own tournament amidst the pandemic and promptly contracted COVID-19, along with a number of the other participants, and his wife. Let that be a lesson to us all.
I lived around the corner for a few years from The All England Lawn Tennis Club which hosts Wimbledon, but have never had the pleasure of attending, so this short piece written for the prompt’ Lawn’ in 150 words is culled from imagination and the boasts of friends that have.
A swathe of purple and green throngs the pavement. People push towards the turnstiles. Touts hold out tickets, naming eye watering prices. Few people take notice, whilst others haggle in the hope of accessing the hallowed grounds.
Inside, the maze of courts spreads left and right. The majestic Centre Court commands attention.
Some visitors enjoy an exorbitant bowl of strawberries and cream or a glass of Pimm’s to say they have. Then walkways begin to thin out as the flamboyant parade of hats, dresses, jackets and ties makes its way to the stands.
Score boards come alive and blink the players’ names for the first matches of the day.
At two thirty sharp, umpires are atop their perches, players emerge from the change rooms to the crowd’s gentle applause and the familiar sound of tennis balls being pounded back and forth fills the All England Lawn Tennis Club.
Iconic Wimbledon.
