“Tickets for Wimbledon in the month of May or June? Are you kidding Satish?” Julia’s nose went further up in the air as she glanced at me and said, “Satish, people plan for it right since September the previous year. Not at the spur of the moment.”
Julia was known to be a tennis buff in our School at Norwich – I mean the School of Development Studies at the University of East Anglia where I was about to complete my Ph D. What better chance can one have to go to London and watch the Wimbledon at least once. Everyone whom I consulted was unanimous – ask Julia.
“But Julia, there must surely be some daily sale of tickets, and people must be buying these and watching the match!” I made a feeble argument.
“Some tickets, yes. But very few, and Londoners queue up for these from the early morning. If you are happy just seeing the ground, that’s fine. You may get some ticket for Court number 4 or 5. Don’t expect any luck with top courts.”
Fair enough, even if it is court no 5 or 6, so be it. But Wimbledon should be seen at least once. The main issue was how to queue up so early in the morning. Norwich to London itself was a three-hour train journey. Going to Wimbledon would take another half an hour or more. Queueing then would be no good. The best option was to go and stay in London with Bhaskar Da and go to Wimbledon by the early morning Metro.
Bhaskar Da used to stay at Harrow. Hardly any Bengali litterateur would have missed his hospitality in London. His home was an open hangout for them. I got acquainted with him during one such hangout.
Bhaskar Da was not too optimistic about my plan. “You need to catch the 5.17 morning tube to Wimbledon. But people queue up even earlier than that. There is a ray of hope though.”
Ray of hope? My face brightened. Bhaskar Da was a resourceful person indeed. He must be having some ‘contact’! Coming from a ‘contact’ driven set up, such a thought was quite natural on my part, but that was not what he had in mind. Smilingly he said, as if he had read my mind, “it is not the kind of ‘ray’ you are hoping for. It is about an interesting system the Brits have. Resale the empty seats at the Centre Court for charity. Though the Wimbledon ticket is valid for the entire day, Many fans do not watch the matches the entire day, especially when their favourite player loses a match. Then they leave. Their tickets are collected and sold for charity for the remaining part of the day.”
What an idea, I thought. In our system the tickets will end up being sold in black by the touts who will keep brazenly shouting ‘Teen kaa paanch. Teen kaa paanch” (five pounds for a ticket of three pounds!) outside the stadium and the buyers will quietly buy the tickets to watch their favourite player while cursing the ‘system’. The Brits are good traders indeed!
What may be the price of this ‘second hand’ ticket, Bhaskar Da? I asked trying to assess what hole it could burn in my wallet. “Some 8-10 pounds, if you are lucky.” He said.
The alarm rang dutifully early morning. I got ready and quickly headed to the tube station. Smiled at the guy on the counter and asked for one return ticket for Wimbledon. “Oh, but we are closed as of now. The counter opens at 5.30 am.”
My heart sank. I explained to him the need to catch the 5.17 tube. Can’t he give me a ticket before the scheduled opening time? “I cannot do that. But there is a way out. You take the 5.17 train now. When you go to Wimbledon, buy a Harrow Wimbledon Harrow ticket there. You do not need to put your ticket through the machine to exit the platform there.”
I hesitated a bit. What if I got caught and charged for travelling without ticket? All possible headlines flashed across my mind! I made a tentative remark, “What if someone catches me? Everyone may not be kind like you.” He smiled, took a piece of paper and wrote his name and telephone number on it. “Keep this with you. I am here on duty well after you reach Wimbledon. Show it to the checker, if need be. And please run. It’s nearing 5.17 am. Have a good Wimbledon trip.”
I followed his advice with some trepidation. But the journey was uneventful. Upon reaching Wimbledon station, I stepped out, went to the ticket counter outside and asked with an aplomb, “One Harrow-Wimbledon-Harrow please.” The counter person looked at me with some surprise. “You perhaps want a Wimbledon-Harrow ticket. You are at Wimbledon right now.” I explained to him what had happened. His smile said it all. He gave me the ticket and showed me a short cut to reach the tail end of the queue. I briskly walked the distance. The queue was long indeed. I joined it quietly. It would start moving only after three odd hours. One had to be patient.
I noticed a large number of Japanese boys and girls in the queue. That was somewhat unusual. Since when did they become tennis fans? Perhaps there must be a tourist group and the tour organizers may have planned a Wimbledon experience in their package!
“A lot of Japanese visitors today, because of the Kimiko Date vs Steffi Graf match at the Centre Court”, told an old volunteer. These volunteers are an institution in themselves. They move along the queue providing information. “You can be hopeful young man, your number is around 250. You should be able to get a ticket.” Such information certainly reduces anxiety.
Ahead of me in the queue, stood a Japanese Student – more or less shivering. Rains previous night and the breeze had created quite a chill. He was clearly unprepared for it. I had learnt my lessons to not trust the British Weather. Even on a sunny day, I would always carry a wind cheater and an umbrella. Today I had an extra half sweater with me.
Looking at his miserable state, I was sympathetic, but a little hesitant to offer help, lest he minds. One never knows. But I did strike a casual conversation, talked about the upcoming Graff vs Kimiko Date match and the rather unexpected cold weather. Having broken the ice, I offered him my half sweater which he could return once we reached the ticket counter which would be a good 3-4 hours away. The readiness with which he accepted the offer showed the miserable state he was in.
The queue had started moving quite rapidly now. One could see 3-4 ticket counters. I headed to one of these. At my turn I found there was a seat in Court no 2 towards back rows and a standing slot in court no 1 towards the front. I chose Court No 1, made my wallet bit lighter and moved on with the surging crowd. Suddenly I remembered the Japanese student and my sweater! He was nowhere to be seen. I cursed my inattentiveness, added the cost of the sweater to the cost of seeing Wimbledon and moved on.
I was lucky. The first match was between Goran Ivanisevic with some unseeded player. The match was to begin after some time. I remembered Bhaskar Da’s advice. Maybe I should quickly see where the ‘resale’ counter was. I inquired form a Security Guard. He showed me the direction, but asked me as to what would I do going so early there. “I will be ahead in the queue and luck permitting, get a Centre Court ticket.” I replied.
“The sale begins post lunch”, he laughed. “If I were you, I will see Goran’s match, the next match and then join the queue about half an hour before lunch. At that time the queue is quite short. So, you can see some good game and get a Centre Court ticket as well” He did have a point. I followed his advice. While Goran’s match was a good watch; he lost the match, the Washington-Radulescu match was a treat to the eye. I still remember the long applause of the crowd when Washington conceded a point even when the linesman had decided in his favour. He of course went on to win this thriller.
I joined the queue some 45-50 minutes before the ‘resale’ began. Tim Henman was playing his rain-delayed match and was on the brink of his defeat. “If he loses, lots of Brits will leave and we will have plenty of tickets.” The person ahead of me in the queue was telling his friend.
That’s exactly what happened. Tim lost. Some 15 – 20 minutes passed, we saw one man coming with a thick bunch of tickets and handed these over at the ‘resale’ counter. “Plenty of tickets today for sale”, he remarked. Some music to our ears!
I was 5th in the queue. I happily bought a seat towards the front row at merely six pounds and equally happily occupied it waiting for the yesterday’s unfinished match between Pete Sampras and Richard Krajicek who created history by beating Sampras that day. Seeing Pete Sampras on the screen versus seeing him in person on the Centre Court is a different experience altogether. For me it was total ‘paisa wasool’.
The icing on the cake then followed; Steffi Graph versus Kimiko Date. Kimiko did put up a tough fight, but she finally lost. The match was extended till quite late in the evening.
Centre Court spectators are a very mature and cultured lot. There can be a huge and long applause after a good rally, but as soon as the referee says ‘silence please’, you literally feel the silence descending on the court.
But there could be exceptions to this rule as well. After a long rally, which Steffi won and was about to serve for her next point, than a cheeky young man shouted “Steffi, will you marry me?” Pat came the response even before the laughter could subside, “how much money do you have?” This exchange has become a legend in itself. The fan did say ‘just my heart’, but this did not get noticed nor was covered in the media later.
At one of the good returns from Kimiko, an encouraging shout came from a nearby seat “well done Kimiko.” What did my sideways glance see? My familiar sweater and the face of the Japanese student! He also happened to glance in my direction and motioned a ‘thumbs up’ pointing at the sweater. He promptly returned the sweater as the match ended. Better late than never – I thanked my stars.
Bhaskar Da was waiting for dinner. First question – “whom did you see?”. “Goran Ivanisevic….” I replied. “But he was …?” “Yes, Court no 1.” “Not just him, Washington, Radulescu, Krajicek and Pete Sampras.”
Bhaskar Da’s jaw dropped. I enjoyed seeing him but also acknowledged, “Bhaskar Da, it was your idea after all to buy the Centre Court ticket at the resale counter. Not only I saw these matches, I watched the entire Steffi Graf – Kimiko Date match.”
“Lucky man lucky man! An exceptional luck. People don’t get such a deal even after planning in advance.” Bhaskar Da was very happy that his advice worked. I also told him the story of the sweater which was lost and found back.
Back at Norwich, Julia inquired, “Could you get to see any match, Satish?”
I couldn’t help reeling out “Yes Julia – Court 1 and Centre Court, Goran, Washington, Radulescu, Krajicek and Pete Sampras and the icing on the cake Steffi Graf – Kimiko Date.” Julia gaped at me in disbelief. With smug satisfaction, I headed to the Library.