Woe to Any Opponent of Henman on People’s Sunday

WIMBLEDON, England —  They broke camp at dawn, shouldered their packs and, single file, trudged up the hill. The line strung out for more than a mile, peoples’ eyes fixed ahead.

When officials at the All England Club decided--after rain created the worst start ever--to open the gates during the middle Sunday to anyone on a first-come-first-served basis, they feared this would happen: Wimbledon as a bivouac.

For only the second time, tennis was played at Wimbledon during its traditional rest day. As in 1991, tradition was trod upon by masses who had camped out on the stony sidewalk of Church Road to stand in line for a coveted Centre Court ticket.

The feel of the place was markedly different than usual tournament days, when the well-to-do are dropped off by liveried chauffeurs and stroll through the grassy grounds, sipping champagne or Pimms. Sunday’s crowd announced itself by its arrival . . . on foot.

After a night spent along a blustery roadway, twigs and leaves could be detected in hair and on sweaters. When the gates were opened at 10 a.m., one of sports’ toughest tickets was offered at a bargain: 11,000 unreserved Centre Court tickets were available for $24 each, 10,000 unreserved tickets for Court 1 were also $24 apiece and 6,500 grounds passes, allowing access to Courts 2-19, were $8.

Once in, the new fans made themselves at home. The left-luggage stand, where fans may leave larger parcels and bags, was packed with sleeping bags, tents and camp stoves.

The concession areas were doing a brisk, but different business. No little cups of strawberries and cream were on sale.

The best-selling food items Sunday were potato chips and double dutchees, a sausage-hot dog that satisfies anyone’s need for nitrates and grease.

The rainstorms during the week drove fans indoors to shop. Sunday’s crowds looked, saw the prices--$350 for a purple and green-striped Wimbledon blazer--and went to their seats.

Sleepy-eyed, a bit bedraggled and enormously pleased, fans settled into Centre Court seats and eyed what many believe to be the cathedral of tennis from the inside.

They found it as it always is, only with some second-string stand-ins. On Sunday, the lesser Royals were in the box at Centre Court.

At first the crowd sat silent, then politely clapped between points. Only when national favorite Tim Henman took the court for his match against Paul Haarhuis did things perk up.

They sang the soccer songs, the pub songs, the “Let’s Go Ti-ym” rhythmic clapping songs. Tiny Union Jacks waved from perforations in paper Union Jack hats. Faces were painted. Smuggled-in “We Love You, Tim” signs were unfurled.

“From the start, the noise was at a totally different level,” Henman said. “To have virtually all of them screaming your name, I don’t think I’ll ever have that experience again. I don’t think you can get a better atmosphere in all of sports.”

So vocal was the crowd that it mimicked Davis Cup-like conditions for nearly four hours. The last set took 1 hour 33 minutes. To the sheer delight of the crowd, 14th-seeded Henman won, 6-7 (7-9), 6-3, 6-2, 4-7, 14-12.

Darkness began to fall and the People’s Sunday drew to a close. The people left happy.