The Grandest of Slams (Matt Harvey)

Dolce far niente

 

Wimbledon Tennis Party door Edward Brewtnall, ca. 1890


The Grandest of Slams

Excuse me. I’m sorry. I speak as an
Englishman.
For the game of lawn tennis there’s no
better symbol than Wimbledon,
The place where the game’s flame was
sparked and then kindled in,
Where so many spines have sat straight
and then tingled in

Wimbledon,
Where strawberries and cream have
traditionally been sampled in,
Kids’ eyes have lit up and their cheeks
have been dimpled in

Wimbledon,
Where tough tennis cookies have
cracked and then crumbled in,
Top seeds have stumbled, have
tumbled, been humbled in

Wimbledon,
Where home-grown heroes’ hopes have
swelled up and then dwindled in
Wimbledon.
The Grand Slams’ best of breed – it’s the
whizz, it’s the biz,
The temple where physics expresses
its fizz.
There’s one word for tennis and that
one word is
Wimbledon.

Matt Harvey (Cheshire, 1962)
Cheshire


Zie voor de schrijvers van de 5e juli ook mijn vorige blog van vandaag.

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