A Rainy Day in SW19 (Your Call 7.7)

By Rosangel Valenti, TW Contributing Editor

Good morning. This will act as today's Your Call post, for discussing everything related to tennis. Now that Wimbledon is over, it's again OK to go off-topic in these regular daily posts.

As many of you know, even at a late stage I was considering not attending yesterday's final, and selling on my single debenture ticket, which I bought some time before I knew who would make the final. The purchase was made much in hope, I admit, after being at Queen's Club when Rafael Nadal won his first grasscourt title - and I knew that prices might rocket or availability become a problem if the "dream final" materialised again this year. At the time, I thought of it as insurance - I knew I could sell it on. Debentures are the only legally resaleable tickets to Wimbledon, and there has been coverage in the UK press in the past two weeks regarding the AELTC's determination to stamp down on on illegal resales - many sellers who have advertised in the press have, I understand, been tracked down by the Club, and their tickets have been voided. I imagine that this makes black market ticket purchases more perilous than usual, and it has also had the effect of making debentures an even more valuable commodity. Checking prices for men's finals debenture tickets once the finalists had been confirmed, these little pieces of paper were probably literally worth more than their weight in gold, even though the weather forecast for Sunday had been looking grim all week.

I had been reading too many weather forecasts, and was fearful that, as happened to me one day at Wimbledon last year, I would go along, having paid upfront, foregoing a healthy profit, and see little or nothing of my favourite player, due to the weather. On the day I'm thinking of in 2007, I also held a debenture ticket, and saw only a brief, routine women's match, followed by the warmup between Nadal and Soderling on Centre Court. That match was subsequently moved to Court 1, and I ended up buying another ticket, which in turn only allowed me to see the first part of the match, also due to rain.

So, it was a combination  of this bad memory, and the fear of witnessing a crushing loss in person, that made me think of staying at home and letting someone else take the risk of all rain and no play. However, the day before the match, after checking ticket prices and the latest forecasts, and determining that there should be at least some play, I e-mailed Pete to say that I would be at the Club the next day.

More than a year ago, I embarked on the crazy ride that has been the "Rafa Euro-spectator Slam", seeing him play at least once at every tournament that he's played in Europe. It began at Roland Garros in 2007, and the non-calendar version was completed in Hamburg this year, but I'm determined to see the "calendar Slam" through in 2008. In a way, the quest has taken on a life of its own, particularly in recent weeks, as titles have been coming, and the comparison with the great player who first inspired me to really love tennis, Bjorn Borg, has been growing stronger. Originally, the idea was to see some live tennis in each location, then move on. As time has gone by, I've made tennis-watching friends, and in particular have attended quite a few matches with MarieJ, which has made the whole experience even more pleasurable, as well as inevitable. And then, in recent weeks, I've been watching a player on a seemingly unstoppable roll, who has also been the victor in a number of memorable matches. With MarieJ's help, I saw my first live Grand Slam final at Roland Garros a few weeks ago. She, like several other friends from TW, told me that I really needed to go to the Wimbledon final.

Ultimately, the decision came down to this: how would my year's quest be complete if I missed the opportunity to see the Wimbledon trophy in Rafael Nadal's hands, even if the match didn't turn out as I hoped? If yesterday had been rained off, I would have had to find a way of being there on Monday. As for the fear aspect, there are times when I think that there's nothing I like less than seeing Nadal and Federer go head-to-head, because I always fear that my favourite will lose. But, the fear of loss is also the reason why these matches are usually so compelling once they are under way - the reward always seems the greater when the victor has had to produce his very best against the best to come through. It's the hopes and fears that lead to the resonances. And (as I really should know from experience, but somehow often manage to forget), once the match is under way, I usually achieve a degree of equanimity about the result, as long as I'm enjoying the tennis itself.

When I arrived yesterday, the covers were on all the courts. But even though I'd hardly slept the night before, I was feeling good about my decision. After all, what better way to spend the day than experiencing the last-ever rain delays that will hold up a Wimbledon final? I went to meet Pete at the press centre, and afterwards got talking to one of the photographers that I've regularly seen at other events; we swapped stories of the disasters encountered while photographing tennis, and I consciously realised for the first time that, novice though I still am, I've encountered my fair share already while following the tour in these past months, and can also speak almost the same language as the real insiders, which probably means that I'm on my way to becoming experienced. While this was going on, we had a good view of the covers on all the courts, and were continuously kept updated over the tannoy regarding the weather situation. Once the "twenty minutes notice" announcement was made, almost everyone sprinted out of the press centre.

On Centre Court, I had a seat almost overlooking the net, behind the umpire. Glancing around while seating myself, I noticed Bjorn Borg taking his seat in the Royal Box, and even with the naked eye, had no problem identifying Tio Toni's trademark white cap in the players' box. When the players walked on to warm up, Centre Court was, unusually for a final, still filling up with spectators.

I am rarely completely calm during a Nadal match, but this time, my palms were sweaty, and I initially had problems holding my heavy camera up. I'd decided beforehand that, special occasion that this was, I'd keep the "action pictures" to a minimum (I've lost count of how many I already have), and save my efforts for the unique moments, before and after. So, after the first few games, I put my camera down. It's one of the few recent times when I haven't watched a fair chunk of a match with a partly photographic eye. I also realised that during many occasions, holding the camera and deciding when to press the shutter button has been a calming influence - it allows me to give part of my attention to something other than the match itself. Maybe it's an on-court version of hiding behind the sofa. I always watch back recordings of the good matches that I've photographed, but the photography itself has been a useful learning tool - it helps in fixing moments showing what a player does best, and his zones of weakness. For example, I have a large collection of shots demonstrating that Nadal doesn't move as well towards his forehand side as to his backhand, though he often almost gets to the ball in time there. I collected a few more yesterday.

After those first few games, I already knew that my worst fear hadn't been realised - i.e. that my favourite player wouldn't be playing well. And it also became clear that, despite scoring the early break, he was going to need to work, as usual against this opponent, for every point. I then watched the rest of first two sets with something akin to disbelief, though MarieJ, with whom I exchanged texts during the match, can testify that I remained extremely nervous. Could he win the match in three sets? It seemed a truly bizarre hope, even as the evidence unfolded. Of course, the most important point to win against any truly great player on a big stage is always the last one, as Roger Federer certainly proved yesterday, especially when pulling out some clutch serves at key moments. How many key moments were there? I lost track of all the break points and half-chances, the tiny point-by-point swings of momentum. There was nothing routine about any moment of this match for either player, I felt. Every point seemed to be a no-holds-barred mind-on-mind struggle.

During the two rain delays, I stayed where I was, stunned. Regardless of the errors that came at some stages of the match, I knew that I was witnessing a contest of the highest order - and at some point also accepted that, whoever won, fans of both players would rightly feel proud of "their guy". Until the final point, I was afraid to hope too much, because I was never among those underestimating Roger Federer at this tournament, and vividly remembered the two tiebreak sets in the 2007 final that he won. At one stage in the third set, he was two points from defeat. Towards the end of the fourth set, as we all know, he was saving Championship points. As we headed into the fifth set, with darkness gathering fast, I felt that he was the favourite, though both players had been holding their service games, mostly with ease. So, I watched the final set with hope, and also appreciation for the contest, especially as neither player folded, and it came down to that one, final break and a hold. I've never been a fan of fifth-set tiebreaks at Slams, and at Wimbledon would like it least of all, and this match shows one reason why - ultimately, the victor needs to take more than one key point from the server.

By the time the match ended, with Nadal splayed on his back on the dusty grass, Centre Court was almost in darkness. I'm sure that it won't have been obvious on TV just how dark it was, because the cameras will adjust for the light. Towards the end, the light had been difficult for a while, with cloud overhead. Shortly after nine o'clock I texted MarieJ to say that light had become a serious issue, having seen the umpire speak to both players. Play went on, though - surely the momentum of the match was too great to interrupt, and conditions were at least the same for both men.

Thus, my most hoped-for pictures also became my greatest-ever photographic challenge. First, I had to wipe a few small tears away. Next, I don't use flash when photographing tennis, and wasn't carrying one, even if I had been close enough to the action for it to matter. I cranked up every setting I could on the camera, and still found that I would need to hand-hold at a shutter speed that is less than ideal for a long lens. So, I just kept firing, and hoped that some pictures would come out. Some that did were illuminated by the flashes from so many other people's cameras. Those were an extraordinary, magical few moments on Centre Court - the flashes were producing something akin to a firework display, lighting up the night in an ever-changing pattern, and allowing the moments of climbing up to the players' box and storming the Royal Box to be clearly seen - as well as the trophy ceremony itself, and the on-court interviews. Has a Wimbledon trophy ceremony ever been held in such darkness before? By the time the main actors left the stage, the sky was deep, dark blue. As Rafa - after walking around the court to show his new trophy to the fans - made his exit, he was no more than a vaguely recognisable white blur holding something fiery aloft.

What a day. And what an evening. As must have been true for many people, I arrived home close to midnight - after a Wimbledon final! It will probably never happen again, but it was a fabulous rollercoaster ride while it lasted, and included my best moments ever while watching tennis, live or otherwise. Reading the TW comments afterwards was also a pleasure, on a day when we collectively beat the record for most comments on a series of Crisis Center posts - for just one match!

Later today, I'll try to get the rest of my pictures up on the web for anyone who wants to see them. However, I think it's more than fitting that two of the three pictures here show both of the warriors I saw in yesterday's match. For the second time in a month, Roger Federer showed me a human side in defeat that I can only respect. And it takes two players to make a great match, for which I can only thank him. I also can honestly say that, great match that it was, had he been the victor - just those few points in it - he too would have deserved it. As Rod Laver once said of his legendary match with Ken Rosewall at the WCT Finals in Dallas in 1972, which he described as the most disappointing loss of his career: "It's our match forever - his win, but our match".