Sporting Bygones: When McEnroe, Connors, Edberg and Sabatini were not the stars as the fans claimed centre stage at rain-hit Wimbledon

WHY will the pressure almost be overwhelming on Andy Murray when he begins his quest to become the first British winner of the men’s singles at Wimbledon since the iconic Fred Perry prevailed in 1936?

The reason is the unique scenes witnessed at the hallowed All England Club in June 1991 when play took place on the Middle Sunday – a traditional rest day – after rain had played havoc with the schedule.

Just 52 out of a scheduled 240 matches had been completed.

They made tennis popular, and accessible, to the masses, and were followed – in subsequent years – with an upturn in home expectations when Tim Henman, Greg Rusedski and, more recently, Murray showed that they could at least be competitive at SW19.

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What made Middle Sunday so special was the spontaneity of the occasion – within minutes of the announcement being made on the Saturday that there would be play on the following day, and that the rain clouds would lift, the car was packed and I was off to Wimbledon.

This was going to be a unique chance to not only attend Wimbledon – but enjoy Centre Court tickets for £10.

The atmosphere on the pavement, from 6pm onwards, was carnival-like – new friends made, makeshift beds made, stewards giving each fan a wristband that indicated their place in the queue. Barbecues were lit, songs sung and taxi drivers delivered pizza orders – taking new orders when a delivery was made. All very British and stoic, even the overnight rain failed to dampen spirits.

And, when the gates opened at 10am, the stampede to acquire the best seats in the house. Centre Court, front row, roller end – they do not come any more prized than that. Back then, Wimbledon was perceived as being very stuffy and elitist. Not any more.

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The one downside was that you had to give up your seat if you left the court – but it did mean Wimbledon was bursting with the enthusiasm generated by 24,894 spectators in the All England grounds when Gabriela Sabatini and Andrea Strnadova strode onto Centre Court at noon.

It was a reception normally reserved for rock stars; that it was the first (and only) time that I have participated in a ‘Mexican Wave’ at a sporting event is perhaps indicative of how this had become the people’s day.

The late John Parsons, the doyen of tennis writers and then a correspondent with the Daily Telegraph, wrote at the time: “I remember the rush, particularly for the front row seats of the first tier of Centre Court. I’m sure if I hadn’t guarded the press seats, they’d have gone as well.”

The tennis was rarely spectacular – the stylish Sabatini was followed by the poise of Stefan Edberg, who would go on to lose to Michael Stich in the final, the athleticism of Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario and then the showmanship of former champion Jimmy Connors who, in the twilight of his career, played to the crowd as he was worn down by the younger legs of Derrick Rostagno.

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Each match, briefly punctuated by cheers from the adjacent Number One court where John McEnroe had enthralled the crowd, was over in straight sets. There were none of the epic encounters that are Wimbledon’s hallmark – and which can now be played to their denouement now a roof has been built over the world’s most famous tennis court.

It was also a day when the players – great names like McEnroe, Connors, Edberg and Sabatini – were not the stars. The real heroes were the thronging crowds who descended upon Wimbledon in such numbers that the police had to implore the BBC to broadcast newsflashes urging spectators to stay away.

The contrast of People’s Sunday – we had to wait until 1997 for another – could not be greater with my planned sojourn to Wimbledon tomorrow as tickets for Court One were acquired in a ballot many months ago.

But, ahead of the predictable debate about why home-grown players as talented as Andy Murray cannot prosper at Wimbledon, those who care passionately about tennis and its future would be advised to reconsider the legacy of People’s Sunday.

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I, for one, would not have become a tennis devotee if I had not become caught up in the emotion of the day. If the All England courts could be opened to the masses – safely and trouble-free – 21 years ago, why can’t there be one day a year when tickets are sold at knockdown prices on a ‘first come, first served’ basis?

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