Not even rain could dampen my Wimbledon parade.
As I sat down to write this post, I was flooded (no pun intended) with thoughts of what I should say. Or rather, how I could possibly capture in words just how special Wimbledon truly is. As trite as this may sound, for me, Wimbledon is more than just a tennis tournament. It’s a Klein Family Tradition.
Like many others, I grew up with Breakfast at Wimbledon. Every summer, I sat in the living room with my mother, an avid tennis fan, and her mother (my Oma) and we would watch together. I remember Oma cursing in German at Ivan Lendel every time he scored a point against her beloved Boom Boom (Boris Becker). I recall my mother shrieking in delight at McEnroe and Connor’s antics, informing me after McEnroe went to the net, that “serve and volley” was what “Wimbledon is all about.”
Last week, I had the opportunity to attend the oldest major championship in tennis. Our client, Mediazone, is the official online broadcaster of the tournament. Their service, Wimbledon Live, offers coverage of nine concurrent courts online. It’s the most comprehensive coverage available and provides audiences worldwide access to the Wimbledon. So, if you are not as fortunate as I was this year, you can still experience the most prestigious tennis tournament in the world.
While I was there, I realized that I didn’t appreciate just how special the Klein Family’s Breakfasts at Wimbledon were, but was reminded of it as Venus and Serena’s father walked by me in a rush to watch his daughter’s match. Did they spend weekend mornings in June and July glued to the couch as we did? Maybe I was overwhelmed by nostalgia because here I was, finally at the greatest tennis tournament ever; only my Oma had passed years ago, and even if I were home to watch it on television, I live 3,000 miles away from my mother. At one time, we were like so many others–three generations watching a piece of time gone by together.
In my naiveté, I thought I was the only one who caught this; the only one who felt those overwhelming pangs of sentimentality. I had been touched by something special. Then today, I read Christine Brennan’s article in USA Today:
“Something magical happens when multimillionaire athletes in their 20s set foot on the grounds of the All England Club. Perhaps it’s the rain, the lush green grass, the cool air.
They say that speed and the low bounce of grass courts favors serve and volley players, and in that sense my mother was right. However, after visiting those grassy courts, I’d have to add that it’s not just serve and volley, but history, memory and tradition. That is what “Wimbledon is all about.”