It’s Wimbledon time again - and the whole of Britain is bracing itself for the world’s greatest tennis tournament. Or is it?

Like it or not, the fact is that not every Brit is turned on by the sight of foreigners dressed all in white picking up gleaming silverware and oodles of cash for pinging balls across a net ad infinitum. I say foreigners because you can count the number of homegrown players fit to string the rackets of the overseas stars on one hand. One finger actually - Andy Murray. And despite his PR machine’s efforts to refute reports that he said he’d support anyone but England at the 2006 World Cup, I am quite convinced the 20-year-old from Dunblane is one of that vast army of Scots who have no great liking for the English.

Apart from that, Murray probably won’t even be playing through injury, while our other 21st-century legend, perennial nearly-man Tim Henman, is unlikely to get beyond the first round. My money’s on the world No.78 going out at the first hurdle, whoever he’s drawn against. Even if it's a ball boy.

'My money’s on Tim Henman going out at the first hurdle, whoever he’s drawn against. Even if it's a ball boy'


In his prime, poor past-it Tim was so near to being a superstar but every time he got within sight of actually winning a Slam, he bottled it. No, that’s not fair - he’s never been a Colin Montgomery. The reality is that Tim - who reached six Grand Slam semi-finals - was never good enough to actually win a major title. A nearly man doomed to fall at the last hurdle because his abilities were a tiny bit inferior to the real champions.

I fear that Murray, charisma bypass and all, will go exactly the same way. He’ll never quite make it, just like  Roger Taylor, the previous Brit to reach the Wimbledon semi-final in 1973. (Yes, I’m that old that I actually remember the boy from Sheffield in action). The last home player to win the men’s singles, Fred Perry, managed it before even I was born - completing a hat-trick of successive titles in 1936. And it’s now 30 years since we had our last ladies’ champion in Virginia Wade.

Talking about British women players, I couldn’t even name one of the present lot, let alone get excited about her chances. But you can bet the UK media will go wild if one of them gets beyond round one.

You’ll gather from my comments so far that I am not a big tennis fan. So if I, with my middle-class grammar school background, can’t get turned on by Wimbledon, what is there in it for the grass-roots Englishman - like the footy-loving guy who is hooked on Man United, Liverpool, Spurs or Arsenal? A Swiss and a Spaniard battling out a cat-gut war at the oh so snobbily named All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club? (Let’s face it, we all know it’s going to be a Federer v Nadal final). Or boring Belgian Justine Henin storming to yet another Grand Slam title against some faceless young woman with a Russian-sounding name?

Granted, the galleries will be packed every day - predominantly by middle and upper-class women and girls with posh accents yelling ‘Oh, my gosh’ after virtually every rally. But the working classes certainly won't be there in abundance swigging down the champagne and guzzling those strawberries and cream. And the extortionate ticket prices will have nothing to do with it.

Now I admit I’m a bit if a snob myself . . . but I find the whole event really stuck-up. It leaves me cold - particularly those antiquated Wimbledonisms like calling the main men's event the ‘Gentlemen’s Singles’. For heaven’s sake! Maybe the idea is to keep Fred Perry’s memory fresh but those sort of expressions went out with rationing.

When Wimbo-phoria kicks in every year, I start to wonder if it’s me who’s out of touch. But I know so many people who really couldn’t care less about it - certainly until the latter stages - that I’m convinced my impressions have some substance.

What about all you football fans? Do you find Wimbledon Wimble-dull? Come on guys, be honest with me…do you care who wins  - and how much of it are you going to watch?