Brits at Wimbledon: The Wait Continues

One of the most entertaining aspects of following Wimbledon over the past dozen years or so has been annual rise of British hope. Every year, it escalates to a near crescendo, only to be crushed by inevitable heartache.

It started with Tim Henman’s entirely unexpected run at men’s singles quarter-finals in 1996, and has continued through to 2008, where Andy Murray’s progress has been unceremoniously arrested by Rafael Nadal in the corresponding round.

The last time a Brit won the Men's Singles at Wimbledon was in 1936, which is an interminable wait when placed in context: the wait for a soccer World Cup is now 42 years, and the wait for a cricket World Cup is 29.

The 60-year drought was a reason good enough why Henman captured the imagination of the British public as he made his way time and again into the second week of the Championships.

Indeed, Tiger Tim came close to reaching the final on a number of occasions, only to fall tragically short each and every time. He bowed-out at the semi-final stage in ‘98, ‘99, and ‘01 (he was two points from victory at one point) and ‘02. In 2000, he reached the round of 16, and on four occasions (‘96, ‘97, ‘03, and ’04) he exited after reaching the quarter-finals.

After Timbo, it is now the turn of Andrew Murray to carry the mantle. A Scot, Murray was awarded a wildcard to Wimbledon in 2005, and he duly belied his ranking of 374 by reaching the third round, only to falter after leading two sets to love

The next year Andy, reached the fourth round, defeating Andy Roddick en route. Slowly, Henman Hill became re-christened as Murray Mound and Henmania became Andymonium. Although injured last year, Murray came back and went one step better this time around.

Admittedly, there is something wicked about finding enjoyment in the repeated tragedies suffered by British Wimbledon fans, but taking mischievous delight somehow seems unavoidable. The way the entire nation, year after year, rallies behind an unlikely would-be hero, the hysteria increasing with each round, it seems as if people actually believe things will somehow turn out different this time, that a Pom might actually end-up winning the bloody thing.

But the rest of us know it’s never going to happen. And so we wait, with increasing glee, for the premature end. When next, if ever, will a Brit win the men's singles at Wimbledon?