Stay up to date with notifications from The Independent

Notifications can be managed in browser preferences.

Minute-by-minute on a day of frustration

Richard Edmondson
Thursday 04 July 1996 23:02 BST
Comments

It was a busy day at the office for Britain's No 1. This is yesterday's diary of Tim Henman, aged 21 and three-quarters.

7.05: Tim Henman wakes up and prepares for a match as normal. "I went through the same routine as I had for the last 10 days." Does not read the newspapers, as has been his custom all fortnight, so misses being informed that the cold hearts of the bookmaking world make him an 11-4 shot, with his opponent Todd Martin a 1-4 chance.

10.58: Henman, 21 and 6ft 1in, walks out on to Centre Court with 6ft 6in Martin, who is 26 on Monday. They look like uncle and nephew.

11.06: Henman wins toss and serves. Dumps half-volley into the net to lose first point.

11.09: Wins first service game with an ace. There is not a great deal of clapping because there is not a great deal of crowd.

11.21: Martin, who talks like Clint Eastwood and looks like a giant redwood, queries his first line call. His eyes are almost on a level with Gerry Armstrong's in the umpire's eyrie.

11.35: Martin serves first double-fault. Some cads desert tradition and start applauding, but the American does not hear them. "I was really relieved when I double-faulted for the first time that nobody clapped."

11.40: Henman has ordered a takeaway. A hand of bananas is transported to him on a black plate by a ballgirl.

11.43: Henman loses a set point, the first of three he squanders.

11.55: First tie-break. Henman loses first point to go behind for the first time in the match. He is never in front again.

12.01: Henman double-faults to lose the first set, which has taken 55 minutes.

12.05: Martin wins first game of second set to love as it becomes a bad day for wigs. The American's hair is blown into a nest arrangement, which could spell trouble for someone his height.

12.15: Roger Taylor, the last Briton to reach a men's quarter-final, in 1973, leaves his seat for an undisclosed destination.

12.33: Henman trails 3-4, 0-15, when light drizzle sends players from the court.

1.03: Play resumes. Rog is back.

1.09: Henman holds his serve at 4-4 despite having a break point against him. Slaps his thigh in self-congratulation, the nearest he gets to emotion.

1.22: Second set tie-breaker. Henman poses little threat and capitulates in a 7-2 reverse. Both men suggest a tie-break is a game of chance. Henman calls it "a penalty shoot-out", Martin "a crapshoot".

1.31: The umbrellas go up again.

2.47: They come down after a suspension of over an hour and a quarter.

2.57: Henman shows signs of tossing it all away. He catches one throw- up at 30-40 and when he finally serves Martin breaks for 3-2 with a backhand down the line. It is the first time a service game has been lost in the match.

3:02: Martin leads 4-2 as another squall arrives.

3.46: Players return to a crowd which realises Henman is in the last throes. The many voices shouting his name have a range from the convent school to the dockyard.

3.53: At 5-3 to Martin, yet another shower intervenes.

5.36: Players return to a Centre Court covered in sunshine.

5.41: Henman holds his serve but Martin serves out to love to complete a 7-6, 7-6, 6-4 victory.

5.49: Henman is quickly into the interview room. "After the last two games it wasn't as if I needed to go and shower." He is disappointed but pleased with his tournament. "I've shown that I can compete with some of the very top players, and now I think it's my job, my aim, to go and join them."

5.53: A reporter asks him what time he got up and what he did. 7.05 - same routine.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in