Roof raises the drama with snaps, crackles and plenty pops

Henry Hitchings
30 Jun 2009

Now we know what the Wimbledon roof is really for. While it may be handy for blocking out summer rain, its greater benefit is that it amplifies the drama on Centre Court.

As Andy Murray was extended for four hours by the muscular challenge of Stanislas Wawrinka, the spectacle was enriched by the closed court's unfamiliar acoustics. Tiny nuances of play reverberated uncannily, and the two men's more protracted rallies became sonatas of snaps, crackles and plosive pops. 

When Murray stepped on court for his warm-up at 6.30, it seemed odd that the roof, eased shut for the first time at 4.47, should still be closed. But them's the rules. Certainly no one expects to be watching a Wimbledon match at half-past 10 on a Monday night, and no one expects Centre Court to sound so tinnily raucous. 

At the outset Murray's ragged battalions of fans were expecting a brisk exhibition of aces, drop shots and slices. But the aggressive Wawrinka — whose accomplishments include being able to beat Roger Federer at ping pong — had other ideas.

Jokes about Swiss neutrality were hastily discarded: Wawrinka surged into a 4-0 lead. The British hope began to look suspiciously like an extra in a Ken Loach film. Our attentions were now morbidly engaged. Was Murray going to be bageled? Normal service (in all available senses) was resumed. For Murray that means a slouchingly phlegmatic approach, complete with cod-Shakespearean war cries and — a new trademark — his special tortoise-in-no-hurry yawn.

Murray's defensive dexterity is not always easy to enjoy. Armchair experts blurt out “Just hit the ball” and other unscholarly variants. He coasts along, playing his way, caressing his sliced backhand: we reach for fortifying liquids and comfort food. While Murray worked his angles and ferreted around the baseline, the BBC's cameras reminded us repeatedly of the surrealism of the affair, gawping down on the incandescent hangar of Centre Court as the rest of the All England Club lay in darkness. Not that we needed the reminder.

The match see-sawed agonizingly. Murray repeatedly demanded more: as his face grew more weary and his body slowed, his desire bristled.  “Yeah, it was great,” he said in the jangling aftermath. He sounded like the one person not totally convinced.