Tennis Finds Its Roots

The Wimbledon groundskeeper, Eddie Seward, was asked how the ordinary homeowner might have a lawn like the one on Centre Court.

“Simple,” Seward said. “All you need is 100 years of roots.”

Indeed.

It is possible to trace Roy Reigels’ wrong-way run in the Rose Bowl, and you can stand where Babe Ruth stood and call your home run at Wrigley Field. You can make the putt that Bobby Jones made to win the U.S. Open at Winged Foot.

But the hallowed grounds of sports are disappearing, as disposable as the witnesses and as the heroes who passed through them.

Where Bill Tilden stood to serve, now stands Pete Sampras. And where Susan Lenglen darted, now dashes bare teen Martina Hingis.

Young Hingis was allowed to lose her first Wimbledon match on Centre Court, an honor she has decades to digest. Privilege, like soft food, is more welcome the older you get.

Wistfully, Chris Evert said, “It is hard to walk into Centre Court and not see yourself as you were. Until you are removed from it, you do not realize how special it all is.”

Centre Court is a place not gained by luck nor by whim, but earned. It is the old Carnegie Hall joke made British. How do you get to Centre Court? Practice. Practice.

Referee Alan Mills identifies the honor as “pride of place.” It took Boris Becker, who calls Centre Court his house, a week to get back there this year. Even Jo Durie, the perennial British hope, in her last Wimbledon, had to play her final match on Court 1.

When Martina Navratilova left Centre Court after her last singles final she reached down and pulled up some of those 100-year-old roots.

“I still have it,” she said.

Virginia Wade identified stepping onto Centre Court as “the threshold of an irretrievable moment.” And it must be done properly.

Walk to a spot parallel with the service line, turn to the Royal Box and bow or curtsy. Pause to do the same as you exit.

You may not leave Centre Court for any reason other than nature’s call (once in 3 sets, twice in 5). And you must take a witness with you. When Becker also did a couple minutes of stretching in the men’s toilet, he was fined $1,000.

“You can find out anything you want to know about a person by putting him on Centre Court,” said John Newcombe.

The way the grass is mowed affects the bounce of the ball. A ball hit with the grain will skid and stay low and move faster. A ball hit into the grain holds more and bounces higher.

“There’s a different echo of the ball,” said Sampras, “the way it sounds in the stadium.

It is a devious place, according to no less than Fred Perry, the late Englishman whose statue guards the grounds.

“It looks inviting,” he warned the generations. “You feel you could walk out there and in your mind’s eye play your dream game without any problems at all. It looks comparatively small and benign.”

Because of the roof, spectators are in the shade and there are no advertising signs. This makes an ideal hitter’s background.

“I never have a problem picking the ball up,” said Andre Agassi. “But on a hot day, the English are not used to the heat and have all those fans going. So, it kind of evens out.”

“There is only one Centre Court,” Navratilova said. “I feel this place in my bones. I feel all those champions out there - dead and alive. There is no other place, no other tennis event, no other sporting event that has this kind of history.”

“I like being part of history,” Agassi said.

Parked in one corner of Centre Court is a huge, old fashioned lawn roller. No door is large enough for it to fit through, so there it has remained, unmotorized and unremovable, still used to smooth the most honored lawn in sports.

It will be there even when Andre Agassi is not.