Today was a big day. Kim had invited us to join her at Wimbledon for the women’s singles title game. We all got up early (well, early-ish) to get going this morning. We looked up who was playing, and we had no idea who either one was—so we collectively decided to root for the Libyan.
We left on time...and discovered at the station that our train wasn’t running this weekend. I swear to you that Rick said it was because there were pig entrails on the line. Later in the day when we had a chance to recap, he insisted he said, “they’re doing repairs on the line.” I mean, I did wonder why entrails would cause so much trouble, but I guess I just assumed it was an awful lot of them, so I didn’t really follow up.
The bright side was that we got to ride in our first double-decker bus! Ági and I went straight upstairs, while Rick made sure we were going far enough to make the stairs worthwhile. We were and they were.
We met Kim outside JD Wetherspoon at Baker Street station before heading out to Wimbledon. It was a beautiful day for it—puffy clouds in a blue sky, a little breezy, and the perfect temperature.
First stop—Pimm’s Cups.*** Which are like English Aperol Spritzes. We walked around to see the various courts and to make unfulfilled promises to ourselves to “come right back” to that gift store. We never did. So many people everywhere.
When time came, we grabbed a couple bottles of champagne† and made our way to our seats, which were insanely close to the court. Well, honestly, the entire stadium seemed more intimate than a football stadium, so I bet most seats were pretty darn good. But ours were damn good—close to the action and at the same end of the stadium as the Princess of Wales and her guest, Billie Jean King.††
Most of you are aware at some level that we are generally considered Enjoyers of Sports Ball. But guess what? Live tennis played by some of the world’s finest players is pretty great. Go figure. It was Ons Jabeur vs Marketa Vondrousova, and they were both tough.
Vondrousova, the Czech, had never played at Wimbledon before and she was the first unseeded°° woman to win the title—and she beat four seeded players to get to this match. Jabeur, the Tunisian, was the runner-up last year and she is the only Arab and North African woman ever to reach a Grand Slam final. Both were strong and a little tricky with drop shots, lobs, and fakeouts. It was nail-biting and stressful, so Ági ran out for a couple more bottles of champagne.
In the end, Jabeur fought so, so hard but just didn’t win. She was super gracious about it, though, saying that Vondrousova played an amazing game and deserved to win. And then she cried a little. I like her even more now. And I might care just a little bit more about Sports Ball, too.
We stayed for the Men’s Doubles game, too. But honestly, the first game was exhausting, and we just needed to go, so we left early. I’m pretty sure the four bottles of champagne had absolutely nothing to do with it.
* Well, that’s what Rick said, anyway. Later, when we had a chance to recap, he insisted he actually said, “they’re doing repairs on the line.” I mean, I did wonder why entrails would cause so much trouble, but I guess I just assumed it was an awful lot of them, so I didn’t really follow up.
** Wetherspoon is a massive chain of value-priced pubs and restaurants that started in 1979. It’s kind of cool in a McMenamin’s way in that they convert cool old places like theaters, banks, and schools into pubs. But the best part is that the guy who started them way back when was from New Zealand where a teacher of his told him he’d never amount to anything. So he named the business after that teacher, Wetherspoon. Hahahaha!
***The Pimm’s Cup was originally a health drink in the mid-1800s. You make it from Pimm’s, a low-proof gin-based liqueur, lemon juice, and ginger ale, then garnish it with mint or a cucumber slice. They call it a “slow-sipping” summer cocktail. I don’t know. I inhaled mine and I felt much, much healthier. You know, in a mid-1800s kind of way.
†Earlier in the week there was apparently a distracting number of cork pops in the stands, so the champagne had to be uncorked in the concessions area. “Ladies and gentlemen, please, if you are opening a bottle of Champagne don’t do it as the player is about to serve. Thank you,” one of the umpires scolded the crowd. The news called it “most Wimbledon warning ever.”
††Normally, I would have expected the Princess (Kitty, I call her) to catch my attention with a little wave and a silent, “Hey, Geoff, I see you!” but I think Billie Jean was keeping her busy.
°°This whole thing about seeded and unseeded confused me, so I looked it up. “Seeded” players are the really good ones, and the organizers space them out carefully so they don’t knock each other out of the running too early, which would really spoil a good time for a 2-week tournament. “Unseeded” players are probably good, too, but they’re more unpredictable—they keep everyone on their toes. And that's just how we like our tennis!
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