WIMBLEDON WORTH WAIT
A civilized queue of 14,000
They were still strolling down Church Road, plastic coolers and lawn chairs in hand, at about 9 a.m. on Saturday. But when they arrived at the gates of Wimbledon Park Golf Club, the young lady wearing an orange steward’s vest held up a hand and issued a polite, “Stop, please.” “Queue’s full,” she said. It was full, and then some. The queue is one of Wimbledon’s long-standing quirks. It’s 40 years older than the whiteclothes-only rule instituted in 1962. Since 1922, the All England Lawn Tennis Club has kept a limited number of tickets to the annual Championships for sale to members of the general public each day, but the line forms early.
It actually starts forming the day before, sort of, as people camp out at Wimbledon Park overnight to reserve their spot. The number of tickets available varies from day to day, depending on how many matches are scheduled, but a steward tells me that the number is usually around 8,000.
It makes for quite a scene. Wimbledon Park, just up the road from the tennis club’s grounds, is awash with humanity. People on blankets, people playing catch, vendors selling newspapers, and drinks, and freshly cooked hamburgers. These folks aren’t even in the queue: they are biding their time until grabbing a spot for an overnight shift, or in some cases, part of a large group that camps out for days while a couple of their number take spots in the queue each day.
The queue itself is, as you might expect of an old British institution, quite civilized. At around six in the morning each day, stewards hand out cards that identify your position in line. You must stay in the queue to keep your spot in line, except for short breaks to use the toilet or grab a burger. About an hour before the gates open at 10:30, the queue begins its long snaking movement forward. Those near the front can buy tickets to the reserved-seating “show” courts like Centre Court. Most in line will end up with grounds tickets that allow access to the general admission courts. Tickets are $80 each, cash only.
It’s a lot of work, the queuing, but the end result is that a student from East Putney can end up sitting not far from the Royal Box and, say, the Duchess of Cambridge, in Centre Court. “Wimbledon remains one of the very few major sporting events where you can buy premium tickets on the day of play,” the All England Club says proudly.
But if Wimbledon still preserves access for the commoners, it also continues a distinct class system, as befits a country where the single biggest landowner is still the Queen. There are two Wimbledons: one for the regular folk, and one for those who have country homes and a servants’ entrance, even if they don’t use it anymore. Since 1920, the club has sold debentures — essentially season tickets to Centre Court that last for a five-year period. The previous issue, from 20112015, sold for $52,000 per ticket at time of release, which is about $900 per day of play. But the latest issue, which runs from 20162020, was released at $100,000 per ticket. The doubling of the price might seem extreme, but not in light of the resale market for these things. Unlike regular tickets — those not awarded to the queue are sold in a public lottery — queue tickets will be voided if the All England Club catches you trying to hawk them. However, debentures are freely transferable.
A pair of tickets for Friday’s men’s semifinals is listed for almost $14,000 — just for the one day. But the debentures can also be sold as a package, and because current holders are first in line for the next issue, the value holds even near the end of the five-year period. Centre court debentures that expired after this year were selling for more than $100,000 — so buyers were essentially paying more than $7,500 per day of this year’s championships just for the right to have first crack at the 2016-20 issue.
The debentures — there are similar, though less expensive, packages for Court 1 — don’t just give holders great seats, they also grant access to perks that ensure the holder doesn’t have to brush shoulders with the riff-raff: separate entrances to the court, private lounges, and restaurants that are exclusive to their kind.
Debenture-holder seats were up until last year subject to a strict “smart casual” dress code, but it was relaxed last year, leading to various laments in the local press that jeans and running shoes were now to be seen in the club’s most exclusive seats.
All of that access has proven to be popular. The most recent sale price for one of those $100,000-at-issue Centre Court debentures, which are transferred through stockbrokers: $222,000.
On Saturday morning, I looked around the area for debenture holders before play began. The fanciest restaurant, The Champions Room, is tucked under the grandstand. “Do you need reservations?,” I asked the fellow at the door. “Yes, sir,” he replies. “But it’s fully booked.”
Of course it is.