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The blind promise of Henmania
It’s different watching Wimbledon from another country
than actually witnessing the matches in its own turf in the
UK. To a foreigner, Henmania could get to the nerves.
As an avid tennis fan for years, I’ve followed Tim Henman’s
career sparingly. It’s nothing exciting. No slams.
No slam finals, unless he makes it here in this year’s
Wimbledon. I’m writing this before the semis you
see, so I can’t envisage the future. For two
weeks a year, he’s the biggest star in Britain, a nation
hungry for their next tennis champion. Bouyed by the hometown
cheers, he had reached the semifinals prior to this year four
times, eventually losing to the champions—Pete Sampras,
Goran Ivanisevic and Lleyton Hewitt. The match with
Ivanisevic in 2001 was his best chance but fate and the rain
conspired to deprive him of the most coveted title in tennis.
For the rest of the year, outside of Wimbledon, Henman is
quite mediocre. He has never even cracked the top five
of the world rankings. It’s like America cheering
on the top their lungs for US and Australian Open runner-up
Todd Martin or let’s say a mid-level pro like Justine
Gimelstob? Ok, the Gimelstob analogy is taking
it too far. When you’re a realist, Henmania is
a bit irritating and definitely reflects the sad state
of British tennis.
The British are somehow credited for the invention of the
sport of lawn tennis, now only called tennis in other parts
of the world, because most tournaments are no longer played
on grass surface. Every year since 1877, Britain
has hosted the Wimbledon, the premier tennis tournament in
the world and the only remaining grasscourt slam in the tennis
calendar. But since the consecutive runs of Fred Perry
in the 1930’s, the country that presents Wimbledon to
the world has not produced a homegrown champion.
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Tim Henman
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Thus, since 1996 (the first time Henman reached the quarters),
the Great Britain has been gripped by Henmania for
a fortnight (Britspeak for two weeks). As a player,
he’s not really that bad. His game, the last vestiges
of the beautiful serve and volley style of play, is actually
suited for grass. But not quite Stefan Edberg or Patrick
Rafter, or in some sense, Pete Sampras. His serve is
not that great either. He’s definitely no Richard Krajicek,
Boris Becker or Sampras. He doesn’t have the precise
groundstokes of the Leyton Hewitt’s and the Andre Agassi’s
of this world. What’s all the fuss about?
He’s not even the top seed.
But he’s British and the British reserve the right to
cheer their very own, just like the way we support our sports
heroes like Bata Reyes and Django Bustmante. However, both
Bata and Django have proven their worth and have stamped their
class in their fascinating sport of pool. Tim Henman
is merely a by-product of the British Wimbledon rowdy cheers
and nothing else. Because how do you explain Henman’s
record in the other majors? To be a great player,
you have to perform well in all the majors not just in your
own turf, where you receive all the media attention.
Deadline constraints won’t let me see Henman’s
finishing touches these fortnight. He might actually
win the tournament, with Sampras, Krajicek, Ivanisevic gone
and Lleyton Hewitt disappointingly out in the first round.
I know that Henman couldn’t even touch Hewitt’s
deft strokes. The crowd has gone past the point of rudeness
by cheering on Henman’s opponents mistake and unforced
errors. Who wouldn’t get rattled? They don't
even do that in the US Open in matches featuring James Blake
and Hewitt. Looking on, Henman was awarded with
a very easy draw—a lucky loser and two qualifiers
in the first three rounds. And then David Nalbandian from
Argentina, last year’s surprise finalist, in the
fourth round. Conspiracy theories abound for the unbelievers.
At the backdrop of all this obsession with Henman is the
fact that British tennis is gasping its last breaths.
How can they develop champions with appalling weather the
whole year through? It even rains in the summer.
Unless they train in other countries like the States or Spain
and France they don’t stand a chance. But they
have better-than-thou attitudes towards other races.
Other countries will just continue to produce champions—Australia,
France, Russia, Spain, the US and the Eastern European bloc.
In our part of Asia, Paradorn Srichaphan of Thailand is flying
the flag of the Oriental race. A slight ray of hope
for us Filipinos, because if a Thai could do it, we certainly
can. We have a fantastic weather barring the downpours.
We only need the money and the equipment. It’s
always the question of money and we don’t have that.
In the meantime, we’re willing to wait. I know that
seeing a Pinoy tennis champ may not happen in our lifetime.
But one can never know.
There are only a few remaining days of Wimbledon. Henmania
would soon be over, for me at least. I hope I won’t
have to go through this again next year. So much wishful
thinking from the British sporting public is debilitating
my system. Go Mark Philippoussis! The big Aussie is
a real talent but is down two sets to one at the moment but
he has to come bank from the brink to at least silence Henmania
in the semifinals. The real favorite though, is Andy
Roddick. *
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