On a cold June afternoon, Britain’s No. 1 was defeated in sets by Caroline Garcia of France. And there will be sadness in such a gentle exit. For Ratoukanou, because she was simply surprised by a stronger opponent, a moment of cold, tough sporting reality for a teenage girl who is still just a year on her own rise from a student to an A-lister athlete and a living pop celebrity. And also for the All England club, the BBC and the entire Wimbledon industrial complex, which has an appetite for Raducanu now, feasting on its stars, building sports-hospitality monoliths around them every summer. Expectations for Raducanu will always be distorted by its early success at the US Open last year, a unique miracle of willingness to take the moment. The defeat here will undoubtedly be grabbed by critics, middle-aged people on the internet and anyone who wants to make fun of them, to point the finger at the trade deals that followed (Raducanu is the face of Porsche, Evian, Tiffany and Dior. Could honestly, is the face of many other things). But Wimbledon warmly embraced Raducanu in its first appearances at Center Court. It is the basic relationship in this place, that between the audience and the favorite player. It took several summers for him to embrace Center Court to embrace the corner, young Andy Murray – and Murray is basically the boss of this place now, Wimbledon’s dad, so ingrained that you can imagine him walking around late at night lights, frowning in the gutters as he pulls the cat out. One hour and 22 minutes after her afternoon session, Raducanu already served to save the match. He brought nets, fell a little, and at that point a sudden, warm applause was heard around the seats, with the feeling of a wider celebration of this amazingly impressive 19-year-old, Beckenham. She has another year now to invent herself, to find out what kind of tennis player she will become. But even in defeat, I felt that this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Make no mistake, Wimbledon needs Em. This place felt a little tired this year. What is this event after all? A summer bloom after the lockdown? Gingon Glastonbury? The return of good times? He felt a little strange in SW19, which was deducted from the rankings due to a war in Europe, which is on the verge of collapse with Covid. Wimbledon has to do with exaggeration, consumption, sinking your teeth in the summer and wondering about its sweetness. The crowd is still impressive. But does anyone really feel red these days? At 9.43 a.m. On Emma-and-Andy Day, the hottest ticket in town, the Wimbledon feed wrote on Twitter that ground cards were still available. Wait. What? But then it is easy to forget that until the late 1990s Wimbledon was a bit far from the current commercial jagern. Earnings tripled during Timwittery’s big boom, in Henman’s time, when hordes of jokers’ hats were suddenly part of the show, imagining an annual canyon festival. Henman fever was bleeding in Murray’s years, and a gut of favorite star players. But these old favorites will disappear in a few years. Wimbledon needs new heroes, new product. Enter: Emma. Screams, screams and cries were heard as he left shortly after 1pm and glanced around, sweeping the eaves. Every tennis player has a way on the court, a person they try to impose. The Raducanu version is raw, neat, virgin, all professional. But he was facing a suitable player here. Garcia was ranked No. 4 in the world a while ago. It does wallop from the baseline. He can play volleyball and make a fuss. It also has obvious natural advantages: long levers, easy power. the kind of basic Raducanu scale issues at 5 feet 7 in should always be navigated. A pair of hard, flat disks, a leap over his head, a forehand volleyball app took the second game and suddenly Raducanu was looking for a hand. The center of the court was upset. There was a storm of worried come-on-Emmas, mostly from hoarse male voices as Garcia took the first set 6-3 in 34 minutes. Radukanu went to the toilet for a break. Good idea. It was, at this point, a toilet break or bust. Still Center Court shouted, cheered and barked at every beat, every moment of relief. A harsh male voice shouted “come on champion”. Radukanu pulled out a stretched overturned pod of backhand and a man in a gray jacket jumped into the air wildly, only to urge him to return to his seat by a flight attendant in an air force uniform. But Garcia did not fold, closing her front hand to forge the lines and close the match. Raducanu then asked questions in the Wimbledon press room with a familiar sense of composure. When asked about the pressure, she laughed and said “I’m 19, I’ve won a slam”, very kind to add the word “duh”. Answer a question in Chinese without effort. She raised her eyebrows a little, asked her what she could do next (“Get better!”) And then jumped out of the room. Raducanu will start now to prepare for the New York defense. If defeat came quickly here, this is another story that has just begun.
