Frenzy by Mark King
For tennis fans out there who have been always hanging around for at least seven decades waiting for a British winner at Wimbledon; well you dreams came true when Andy Murray finally did it, and won the Championship.
Like most people in these isles I only take an interest in tennis during the Wimbledon fortnight, and only up to the point when the last British hope is knocked out, so normally my interest is finished after about three days. But this year it went all the way, and when the winning ball was followed by the mighty cheer of the crowd there was a tear of joy in my eye.
The wife and mother-in-law love Wimbledon fortnight so watched the whole coverage from the moment it started on the BBC, but as it was such a lovely sunny, hot day I pottered about the garden, and prepared lunch for the family on the Barbecue. Every now and then I would pop into the lounge, sit down, and take in a game or two before returning to check the meat sizzling away in the garden.
I could tell when outside how well Murray was doing not just by the excitement bouncing through the open patio doors, but also by the cheers emanating from our neighbours house as they followed the match on television.
At 4 pm I dropped my daughter off at the Odean in Anglia Square for the pre-show preparations for her dance event that evening. The whole family had booked tickets for the show with plans made to meet outside the venue at 6 pm. I returned home to tidy up and have a shower as I stunk of smoke from the barbecue. By now Murray was winning and like most of the nation I became engrossed in the game.
It was now 5.10pm and time was running out for my shower, but he was so close now to winning I couldn't take the risk of missing a national event that had not happen in this country for over 77 years and may never happen again for another 77 years.
Soon it was 5.15pm then 5.20pm and time was running out for me to have a shower then get to my daughter's show on time. I could tell the tension was getting to my wife and mother-in-law as the prospect of the game hurtling towards 6pm or beyond dawned on them.
What should they do? Miss such a major sporting moment or turn up late for out daughters show?
Murray got to match point then blew it, then another match point, and then his third, and it looked as if it would slip away from him, so the game could end up going to a fourth, or even fifth set. Then it happened; he had clawed back the situation, and this time he was as cool as cucumber, and as deadly as a rattle snake. He won his match point and thus the Wimbledon championship. My wife jumped about the lounge and tears of joy strolled down the cheeks of my mother-in-law. I've not seen many of them since my father-in-law passed away and for a few precious moments everyone in the family felt happiness.
I rushed up stairs to have a shower why the ladies watched the court presentations and by 6pm we made it to the Odean with my parents too, and everyone settled down to watch my daughter dancing on stage.
And as for the question of would I be prepared to take the risk of turning up late to my daughters show, and take the risk of possibly missing her fives minutes on stage so I could watch Wimbledon history? Well you don't even need to ask that question because the answers would always be; never in a million years.