Queue balls please!

BELIEVE it or not, Britain has produced a Wimbledon champion in recent years.

In fact, we have churned out thousands of them.

They are the hardy souls who queue for hours and hours to get close to the action at the greatest tennis show on earth.

When it comes to queueing we Brits are the undisputed masters of the world - and Wimbledon is the supreme test.

It requires physical strength, stamina, steely determination, patience and skill - attributes sorely missing at the top level of tennis in this country.

The Lawn Tennis Association and those charged with producing our world class players should make use of the queue system to produce star players of the future.

Those British players who get knocked out in the early stages should set their alarm clocks mega-early and be forced to join the never-ending human chain humanity who are prepared to pay to watch a few hours of tennis.

It would be the greatest lesson in commitment they will ever learn, particularly for first round singles losers who can pick up a tidy sum without even winning game. Beaten men net £8,630 while women receive £6,900. Sadly a lot of that cash went to British players.

The Union Jack fluttered limply over the championships this week with all bar Tim Henman wiped out after three days.

But none of that seems to slake the unquenchable thirst of the British public to get their fix of Wimbledon, Pimms, strawberries and cream.

Anyone planning to pay their way in to Wimbledon on the day has to plan their visit like a military campaign.

If you are going by train - the easiest option - you can book your tube tickets right through to Southfields, the Underground station to the championships.

Midweek day-trippers from York need to get the earliest train to King's Cross (6am).

If you leave it until 7am then you could face queueing to get in to Wimbledon for a staggering seven hours.

Emerging from Southfields Station, non-ticket holders should ignore taxis and buses to the All England Club. That's too easy as you won't get direct access unless you already hold a ticket.

After an ten-minute walk up Church Road from Southfields you hit the famous queue, which, if you have been delayed en route, can stretch like a human snake for two miles into the heart of Wimbledon Park.

Unpaid stewards, who act as queue police, greet bleary-eyed visitors at around 10am with jaw-dropping news - "You won't get in until late afternoon at the earliest."

Only a few decide it is not worth the wait. The overwhelming majority of the motley flock are happy to be shepherded to the back of the twisting line where numbered cards are dished out. The cards are as priceless as an entry ticket itself as it keeps your place in the queue.

Those who have camped out overnight at the head of the line will get in as the gates are opened at 10.30am and the queue gathers pace quickly before grinding to a halt around 1pm when the grounds hit capacity.

After that you can't get in until people start to come out.

It requires the patience of Job as you wrestle psychologically with the fact that you could face another four-hour wait. That where you need mental strength.

If your mind starts to wander and thoughts about scaling the gates unchallenged in a pink dress and Bin Laden beard enter your head then you are suffering from queue-fever. It is time to take a break.

Only short-term breaks from the queue are allowed for toilet breaks or buying refreshments. Although, with a bit of negotiation with their neighbours, some can take a longer time-out.

It has been known for queuers to catch a tube to Richmond for a spot of pub lunch, while watching Wimbledon on big-screen telly with a couple of glasses of chardonnay for company, before heading back to SW19, to reclaim their place.

The Wimbledon queue epitomises the British bulldog spirit, while too many of our players play like poodles. As one wag put it, the queue system may also explain the small number of German visitors, unable to drape their towels over their foldaway chairs.

People in line get 'I've Queued at Wimbledon' stickers which fans wear with pride, a bit like cubs proudly displaying their gold arrow badges. It is like being a member of a cult, an essential part of the 'Wimbledon queueing experience'.

It is an antiquated, uncomfortable system, but the striped-blazer-clad Panama hat-wearing authorities seem to persist on operating it because, by and large, people put up with it.

Fans who finally make it through the gates and past the stringent security checks punch the air with delight.

And what do they do when they finally get inside after up to seven hours of waiting? They queue.

Wimbledon is marvellous place, beautifully presented with its colourful hydrangea, oozing style and class, with a unique atmosphere in which to watch the world's greatest players at close quarters. Sponsorship in around the courts are discreet and the staff firm and courteous.

But, boy, is it busy - and expensive.

There are queues for court seats, champagne, Pimms, strawberries and cream, even the cash point to get more money to spend in another queue, possibly in the line to buy resales for Centre Court or No 1 Court tickets.

Given good weather late arrivals can see up to four hours of top tennis on outside courts for £8 - it is a bargain £14 for a full day.

As the light fades and the covers come on, fans drift home. But some simply walk out of the gates to join the end of the queue which has already formed for the following day's play and the whole cycle begins again.

Updated: 09:54 Saturday, June 28, 2003