I queued at Wimbledon '96
One's place in line was of utmost importance because of the way tickets
are distributed at Wimbledon: 300 per queue for Centre Court tickets, 300
per queue for Court One tickets, then all else for the day (a much larger
but also limited number) were for grounds passes that didn't admit you to
either of the show courts. We were close enought to the head of the line
that we had some hope of being able to score Centre Court tickets (where
Steffi was to make her 1996 debut against the hapless Ludmilla
Richterova).
By 9:30, the line started moving forward, quite a bit in fact, so much so
that there was a momentary flash of panic down the line as someone ahead
of us started the rumor that the 300 Centre Court tickets had just been
distributed and that those people had been admitted to the grounds. That
turned out to be false; I later heard that all the extra space was created
when the little old man told the people near the front of the line, most
of whome had been waiting overnight, to pack up their tents and tables and
roll up their sleeping bags, etc. Presto! A lot of space was suddenly
available.
Adam and I had just re-established our spot in line ... and were reading
one of the free daily papers being handed out by a local newspapaer and
drinking tea being sold by a mobile vendor ... when I felt a tap on my
shoulder. It was Kris, an email friend I had met last year at the French
Open who had *said* she was going to try to find me in the queue; after
seeing just how many people were lined up I had given up a realistic hope
of seeing her after all but, once again, I had underestimated her
resourcefullness and bird-dog instincts. I helped her over the barricade
and introduced her to Adam ...
[Kris would want me to point out here that she felt really really guilty
about cutting in line, so much so that she only bought one of the standing
room grounds-pass tickets so as not to deprive anyone of their shot at a
seat.]
Kris' timing was impeccable; within minutes an announcement was made that
vouchers were being handed out for tickets ... depending on which kind of
ticket you asked for, you moved to a different serpentine. The line moved
briskly forward, until we were about 25 or 30 places away from the
entrance.
And then, those fateful words: "Ladies and gentlemen ..." Kris, who has
been to Wimbledon countless times, had warned us that if we heard an
annoucenment once the line was moving it would be to tell us that all the
Centre Court allotments had been made ... and damn it all, she was right.
We were *that* close! If the lineup for the day had been more evenly
distributed I would have gotten my chance to sit at Centre Court; as it
was, *everyone* wanted to see Steffi, and who can blame them?, so those
tickets went first. So I put on a brave face, asked for a Court One
ticket, and went to that ticket distributor. (While in line I heard the
announcer intone regretfully to the poor saps still in line that their
chance for Court One tickets was shot to hell so I felt a bit better ;-).
Adam and I (and our three other queue-mates) were given our tickets and we
sprinted to the main entrance to join Kris (who had gotten her grounds
pass quickly as no one else was requesting those yet!) ... and, together,
we stepped foot inside the hallowed grounds!
dar
To be continued ...
[In his next installment, dar actually talks about tennis!]
--
Will play tennis for food.
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