Yes the fortnight where once more we are faced with the realisation that the Brits are pants at tennis and we are going to be trashed, humiliated and wiped out of SW19 by the end of the first week (should we be lucky enough to last that long). The two weeks of the year where every Brit turns into a tennis afficianado and learnedly discusses the finer points of lobs, drop shots and cross court volleys, and then forget all about it for the other 50 weeks that are left to us. The two weeks when the corporate boxes and tents are 
packed full of clients troughing up the Pimms and strawberries and taking no notice of the tennis whatsoever. Yes, it is Wimbledon folks.
I have just read an article by Simon Barnes in the Times which just about sums up the annual angstfest that all British tennis fans undergo. They are a stoic bunch, always hoping that 'nice Tim Henman' would win.
I have suffered with Tim Henman over the years, although my suffering was somewhat less than others as I truly never ever thought Tim Henman would win Wimbledon so was not deluded enough to have expectations. You see I have suffered in the past. I had previous experience under my belt. I knew what it was like to weep and wail and gnash my teeth, and now I laugh mockingly at the packed Centre Court and had no time for their delirium and despair. Back in the 1960's there was an English tennis player called Roger Taylor. He was gorgeous and had a large female following of which I was one. I would go to Wimbledon, track down which court he was going to be on and park myself about three hours before game was due to start in order to have a good view.
Now Roger is the man who beat Bjorn Borg. Yes, you heard it right. An English tennis player beat Bjorn Borg. And what is more a sporting English player. He won the match on a disputed call (this was before Hawkeye and modern technology) and insisted that the point be replayed. Mad? Yes, totally but he won the point and the game and that was that. O joy or rapture all round. In case you are doubting this story, please remember that Bjorn was about 18 when this match was played and Roger never beat him again. Neither did anybody else really. Not for a long time until the Borg/McEnroe circus came to town to delight us all (well, the tennis did, always loathed John M, cannot believe that the witty articulate commentator I hear each day at Wimbledon is the same petulant lout I used to watch play).
So Roger makes it to the Wimbledon semi-finals three years running and three years running I am there, surrounded by a sea of Union Jacks and flags and mad Brits all shrieking and screaming. Game starts. Roger is brilliant and before we know it he has won two sets and is 4-0 up in the third. Crowd practically hysterical with excitement. Then he does what all good Brits do when they are ahead, he starts to lose. Out he goes in five sets. He did this the following year and the year after that and all in five sets when he was up two sets to love.
By the third year I was stretchered off the Centre Court and vowed that never again would I allow my nerves to be shredded in this way. I even wrote to Roger and told him of all I had suffered on his behalf. He didn't reply but that is hardly surprising. Years later he was the coach for the British Davis cup team for a brief spell. We lost all our games and were booted out of the first division of this event and are now struggling to beat Ethiopia or Guam or the Antarctic in order to try and get back. Why?
No, I am a hardened case now and just watch the tennis, no matter who is playing, just to enjoy. It is a relief not to worry who is winning. Watching the football in Euro 2008 the last few weeks with the knowledge that we don't have to wait for England to be beaten in the quarter finals by a penalty shoot out by the Germans has been such a relief. When I heard Henman had retired I threw my hat in the air and danced (nothing personal Tim please believe me..), no more five setters in the gloaming where he takes hours to beat somebody ranked 999 in the world, no more Sue Barker 'we are just going to stay with this match until it finishes and the news will follow later after we have watched the really important programmes' and then I watched the Murray match last night, on at prime time so that when you get home from a hard day's work and switch on hoping to find a nice relaxed mixed doubles to rest by, you are faced with the ghastly sight of middle aged ladies wearing huge red, white and blue top hats covered in face paint shouting 'C'mon Andy' instead of 'C'mon Tim'. (The women have the face paint, not the hats). The name changes, the situation, the hopes and the fears and the demented behaviour is the same, but read Simon Barnes and see what I mean.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/columnists/simon_barnes/article4208102.ece
We Brits are good at suffering and being good losers. It is one of our virtues....
