It may seem strange to think it now but there was a time when most stories about the British interest in the gentlemen’s singles at Wimbledon began with the words “Not since…”.
A couple of men would make their way valiantly to the second round and a nation would gasp. The residents of the press room would rush to the history books to see when this had last happened. And for many a decade, it hadn’t happened often. You see, at the end of the last century, Britain wasn’t very good at producing male champions. It wasn’t very good at producing male contenders. When someone won a round or two in SW19, it was major news.
Then, in 1996, a young, thin chap with a penchant for serve-and-volley unpacked his kitbag and readied himself for his first round match. Tim Henman was 21, he was ranked No.62 in the world and he was taking on Yevgeny Kafelnikov, the newly crowned champion of Roland-Garros and the world No.5. And he beat the Russian in five sets. Wimbledon went wild; the press room almost fainted.
He went on to reach the quarter-finals that year – and no British man had got so far since Roger Taylor in 1973 (Taylor went one round further before falling to the eventual champion, Jan Kodes). Or, as we in the press room would have put it, “Not since the days of the Watergate scandal…” Henmania had been born; the era of Tiger Tim was upon us.
When he came back to Wimbledon in 1997, Henman had reinforced his position as the nation’s darling by winning an ATP title in Sydney and reaching the finals in Doha and Antwerp – and all before the end of February. The crowds, then, were ready for the tiger to roar on Centre Court. They expected it. Well, if he had reached the quarter-finals last year, he was bound to win it this year, wasn’t he? The logic was simple.
And then it rained. And it rained. And it rained. Cue the opening line: “Not since 1991 and the dissolution of the Soviet Union has it rained so much at Wimbledon…” and, just as in 1991, the decision was made to play on the middle Sunday of The Championships.
The car parks had turned into quagmires and there was more sport to be enjoyed watching the AA hauling cars out of the mud than there was to be seen on the show courts
By the end of drizzle on the first Friday, only 94 matches had been completed (they should have rattled through 240 by that stage) and two days of the first week had been total wash-outs. The car parks had turned into quagmires and there was more sport to be enjoyed watching the AA hauling cars out of the mud than there was to be seen on the show courts. To have any hope of finishing on time, Wimbledon had to squeeze in an extra day of play for only the second time in The Club’s history.
As “Super Sunday” dawned, it was still cold and overcast but at least the skies had stopped leaking. Tickets for Centre Court and No.1 Court, together with Grounds Passes, were made available at reduced prices on a first come, first served basis. And, boy, did the crowds come. They came with flags; they came with silly hats and they came with the sole intent of cheering Tiger Tim to victory.
Paul Haarhuis, however, had other ideas. The Dutchman was nine years older than Henman and ranked No.63 in the world (Henman, by now, was the world No.20). He had won one singles title in his career – Jakarta in 1995 – but as a doubles player, he was one of the best in the world with three Grand Slam titles to his name (he completed his career Grand Slam at Wimbledon in 1998 with Jacco Eltingh). On a grass court, he fancied his chances.
The noise was at a different level. Every time I won a point it felt like the roof was going to come off
For two minutes shy of four hours, Henman and Haarhuis had the crowd on the edge of their seats. Henman dropped the first set; he took a two-sets-to one-lead but then he dropped the fourth set. By the time Haarhuis served for the match at 5-4 in the fifth set, the crowd had chewed their fingernails down to the elbows. That was when Henman broke to level at 5-5. When he eventually won 6-7(7), 6-3, 6-2, 4-6, 14-12, the cheers, which had been constant through the rollercoaster ride of a match, reached deafening levels.
“From the word go, it was something I'd never experienced before,” Henman said. “The noise was at a different level. Every time I won a point it felt like the roof was going to come off.
“It gives you an amazing sort of buzz to have so many people screaming your name.
I don't think you can get a better atmosphere probably in any sport.”
He had to get used to that noise, though, as Henmania was now officially as much a part of the summer season as Henley, Royal Ascot and Wimbledon itself.
Despite the absence of a Championships this year, there are still plenty of ways you can get into the Wimbledon spirit…
#WimbledonRecreated
Help us recreate Wimbledon from home by sending us your favourite traditions and moments on social media using the hashtag #WimbledonRecreated - and look no further than this if you’re in need of inspiration...
Play The Championships
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A Wish from Wimbledon
If we could grant you one wish, what would it be? Let us know here, and it might just come true!