Soaking up history by the bucketful at Wimbledon

WIMBLEDON, England — No one ever asked and the chance never came up, but I have always wanted to cover Wimbledon.

I wanted to taste the strawberries and cream, drink in the history of a place civil enough to call athletes “Mister” and “Miss,” and see the court where Chris Evert, Jimmy Connors, Bjorn Borg, Martina Navratilova and so many champions lifted those wonderful plates. But my career took me in different directions and I never got closer than my TV. After a while I accepted the idea that Wimbledon would be one event I’d never check off my bucket list of professional accomplishments.

That’s not a complaint. I’ve been fortunate enough to write about World Cups of soccer and hockey, four World Series and a few NBA Finals, a couple of Super Bowls many Roman numerals ago, world championships of track and field and figure skating, and more Stanley Cup Finals than I can remember. The London Games are my 13th Olympics experience, and for that I will always be grateful.

But my bucket list came to mind when our Olympic assignments were handed out. I could go to Wimbledon — the grounds, if not the Grand Slam tournament — and see whether reality could match the expectations I had built.

In covering sports we too often become jaded and lose the sense of wonder we once had. It’s easy to get caught up in the process, to become consumed by the demands of writing, blogging and tweeting, and forget to enjoy what we’re seeing. At major events like the Olympics we also become drained by the logistics of getting from Point A to Point B without losing the wires and plugs that power our electronic toys.

Visiting Wimbledon on Sunday was a needed boost for my depleted spirit. It rained on and off — a typical English summer day — and the famed strawberries and cream weren’t quite as lush as they appeared on TV, but the sense of history and of witnessing a grand occasion pierced the gloom above and within and made this about more than checking off a box on a list.

I wandered into Centre Court and into a bit of history. The match between No. 2-seeded Agnieszka Radwanska of Poland, the Wimbledon runner-up only a few weeks ago, and Julia Goerges of Germany was played under the glass-and-steel roof, the first time Olympic tennis had been played indoors during the modern era. In 1908, during the first Olympics in London, the men’s singles event was held indoors at Queen’s Club in west London in addition to the outdoors events. Indoor tennis was also played at the 1912 Games in Stockholm before the event was discontinued.

There were a lot of empty seats, a common sight at these Games, and it was a shame. Radwanska’s comeback after losing the first set was worthy of a bigger audience.

After that match I wandered down a corridor and past a display featuring the history of the site and pictures of every champion. Tilden, Budge, Laver, Nastase, Newcombe, Wills, Suzanne Lenglen in a long, flowing dress, Mrs. L.W. King — that would be Billie Jean — all had their images on the wall. Seeing those photographs, I wondered if someone who’s competing here will join them on that wall someday.

Other than that wall and a museum, Wimbledon itself has been de-emphasized during the Games. The Wimbledon shop sells only Olympic-themed merchandise and a “team member” told me people asking for Wimbledon souvenirs were disappointed to find none. Anyone looking for strawberries and cream, which he said was normally available everywhere, will have to search diligently for the few spots they’re sold. But there’s always the hot dog-like Great British Banger and Hampshire Hog Hoagie to try or the ever-present Cornish pasty, a baked pastry filled with meat or vegetables.

I watched what little action took place on popular Court 1 before the rains descended in force and saw the beginnings of a match on outlying Court 15 with mostly friends and family watching. It was gloomy. It was damp. It was wonderful.

What’s next on my bucket list? Maybe seeing the Kings win the Stanley Cup. Oh, wait . . . got that one too.

helene.elliott@latimes.com

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