'The wonders of Wimbledon: Yes, you see more detail on TV but live you feel much more involved'

Mick Le Moignan

By Mick Le Moignan

At the height of the pandemic, it was hard to imagine we’d ever return to having huge, live audiences at concerts and sporting events – but it’s now apparent that our love of gathering en masse far outweighs our fear of infection.

I thought my younger son had scored the hot ticket of the summer when he went to the Glastonbury Festival and saw Paul McCartney’s extraordinary 2½-hour concert. A rock god at 80! Who knew?

Of course, Sir Paul had massive technical support and a couple of extra years to rehearse, as the concert was originally scheduled for 2020, but it was a remarkable performance, even when viewed on TV.

McCartney’s voice was a little thinner and reedier than the world remembers it from the recordings of 50-60 years ago, but the familiar songs will have evoked nostalgic memories for millions, as well as entertaining a whole new audience who haven’t even thought about claiming their old age pensions yet. Sir Paul has presumably been pocketing his for 15 years.

Towards the end of the set, he was joined on stage and in song by a couple of young hopefuls, 72-year-old Bruce Springsteen and 53-year-old Dave Grohl, of the Foo Fighters. Those duets were followed by an even more amazing one with John Lennon, courtesy of Peter Jackson, who isolated Lennon’s voice from old recordings to enable the two Beatles to sing together one more time.

As a TV spectacular, it was mesmerising. How exciting must it have been to witness it live? The quality of live sound and vision would have been vastly inferior, but how do you measure the experience, the camaraderie, the sense of being a small part of something so historic?

My own hot ticket for the summer came courtesy of winning one of the Grand Slam Ballots conducted by Tennis Australia. All members of local Australian tennis clubs are invited to apply, although few are likely to find themselves near Wimbledon in the first week of July – so my wife and I were lucky enough to watch play on No 1 Court on the first Saturday of the tournament.

The sense of occasion began on arrival at Wimbledon Tube Station. Tennis tableaux abounded, on the forecourt of the station, the frontages of local shops and even on the top of an ingeniously decorated pillarbox. It was a little like the Battle of Flowers, but with more tennis balls.

We walked to the courts, to soak up the atmosphere, and missed the start of the first match, so we had to wait in a very patient, very British queue at the entrance to our gangway, until the players changed ends, when latecomers were admitted.

The seats were comfortable – fortunately, as we occupied them, with brief intervals for foraging, for the next eight hours. A dozen rows back, almost in line with the net, they provided a perfect view and a great deal of neck exercise, as we tried to follow the flight of the ball. I found I could focus on either the server or the ball landing on the receiver’s side, but not both.

The first match was between Australia’s Alex de Minaur, the 19th seed, and an unseeded British player, Liam Broady. With a place in the last 16 and the second week at stake, both players hurled themselves into every point. It was like a gladiatorial contest in the Colosseum, with no quarter given on either side.

As Aussie supporters, we were seriously outnumbered in the strongly partisan crowd. ‘C’mon Liam!’ rang out at least 50 times for every ‘C’mon Alex!’ – but the dogged de Minaur was not to be denied, battling his way to a well-deserved three-set win. To be fair, at the end of the match, the crowd gave him the standing ovation he deserved and when interviewed on court, he was more than gracious about his plucky opponent.

Our second match was an upset: Alizé Cornet, the tenth-seeded Frenchwoman, knocked out the Polish top seed, Iga Swiatek. In the post-match interview, Cornet recalled defeating another top seed on the same court, Serena Williams, in 2014.

The highlight of our day was yet to come. The unseeded Greek-Australian enfant terrible, Nick Kygrios, played the fourth seed, Greece’s Stefanos Tsitsipas. Their styles were a complete contrast to the opening match.

Tall, rangy, natural athletes, they swung their racquets freely, almost casually. They flashed around the court with astonishing speed and grace. At first, they seemed almost not to care whether the ball went in or out: this contest was more personal, about swagger and elegance, two alpha males testing each other out and affecting casual disdain.

They were showmen, entertainers competing for the support of the crowd. From time to time, the arrogance of both was punctured by a display of ill temper and annoyance, but the tantrums seemed less significant, without the TV cameras zooming in and repeating each faux pas in slow-motion.

Kygrios kept up a running commentary for the crowd. No doubt, it was distracting for Tsitsipas and a little unsporting, but it seemed a genuine expression of his personality and certainly added to the entertainment for the paying customers. When a drop-shot landed on the net, paused and then fell on Tsitsipas’ side, Kygrios gave a flamboyant, full bow to the crowd, like a circus performer after an impressive trick.

The tension ratcheted up. Many stood to applaud after each point. Tsitsipas won the first set in a tie-break, but Kygrios broke serve twice to take the next two sets. At 8.40pm and 4-4 in the fourth set, the umpire stopped play for the roof to be closed. We all came back to earth for a moment, stretched our legs and realised how utterly engrossed we had become.

Yes, you certainly see more detail on TV, but at a live event, you feel much more involved, almost a part of the action. TV can never replicate that feeling. There’s really nothing to beat being there in person – and after three years’ absence, I’m looking forward to being in Jersey in person next month.

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