Wimbledon 2010

[Bizza 105]

Isner V Mahut now 40 games each, longest game in history I think. Still doesn't look like ending.

 

EDIT : Officially the longest tennis match in history,nearly 8 hours now. Most aces in a match too.

Edited June 23, 2010 by Bizza

[Tom 14013]

Fucking mental

[Bizza 105]

Still going!

 

[Barney 0]

John Isner and Nicolas Mahut tore up the record books at Wimbledon as their epic first-round contest became the longest in tennis history.

 

The match was locked at 59-59 in the final set after 10 hours of play when it was suspended because of bad light.

More follows

[Ayatollah Hermione 14063]

I hope it keeps going until they strike it from Wimbledon and it becomes a touring tennis game until they both retire. It can be like the Bob Dylan of tennis matches.

[Monkeys Fist 43095]

Tennis- puffs game

just my tuppence worth.

[Dr Kenneth Noisewater 0]

Tennis- puffs game

just my tuppence worth.

+1

[Renton 22006]

Shows the final set rules are daft imo. They must be knackered, and the winner will have to prepare for the second round immediately.

[Meenzer 15731]

Yeah, if a tie-break is good enough for every other set, it should be good enough for the final one really. Mind, still a great bit of publicity for the game.

[Meenzer 15731]

4.05pm: The Isner-Mahut battle is a bizarre mix of the gripping and the deadly dull. It's tennis's equivalent of Waiting For Godot, in which two lowly journeymen comedians are forced to remain on an outside court until hell freezes over and the sun falls from the sky. Isner and Mahut are dying a thousand deaths out there on Court 18 and yet nobody cares, because they're watching the football. So the players stand out on their baseline and belt aces past each-other in a fifth set that has already crawled past two hours. They are now tied at 18-games apiece.

 

On and on they go. Soon they will sprout beards and their hair will grow down their backs, and their tennis whites will yellow and then rot off their bodies. And still they will stand out there on Court 18, belting aces and listening as the umpire calls the score. Finally, I suppose, one of them will die.

 

And that was five hours before they gave up for the night...

[Meenzer 15731]

6.25pm: The scoreboard is barely visible through the grass and weeds and trails of Spanish moss. It shows that John Isner and Nicolas Mahut are locked at 37 games each in the final set.

 

I'm wondering if maybe an angel will come and set them free. Is this too much to ask? Just one slender angel, with white wings and a wise smile, to tell them that's it's all right, they have suffered enough and that they are now being recalled. The angel could hug them and kiss their brows and invite them to lay their rackets gently on the grass. And then they could all ascend to heaven together. John Isner, Nicolas Mahut and the kind angel that saved them.

 

6.35pm: More news from the real world: Roger Federer is two sets to one up on Ilija Bozoljac. Thomas Berdych is two sets to the good against Benjamin Becker, and Novak Djokovic is heading in the same direction in his contest with the big-hitting Taylor Dent.

 

News from Nightmare Country: the Zombie Umpire has lost his voice and now calls the score in the croak of a crone. Zombie Mahut double faults to allow Zombie Isner a glimmer of hope at deuce. It is merely a glimmer. Mahut comes through and we stand at 39-all.

 

6.48pm: The sun is sinking and the court is a blur. It is at this stage that Zombie Isner starts to look like Zombie Mahut and the Zombie Umpire stops croaking and starts to chirrup like a grasshopper. In other words, we're here but we're gone. Is anyone still alive up in the stands or have they now all been eaten? It's 40-40. And that's games, not points

 

Still no sign of that angel either, the one that swore blind that she would come down and spirit the players off to Disneyland Paris where they could ride the Thunder Mountain rollercoaster forever and ever amen. I'm now starting to wonder if she really exists.

 

7pm: The umpire climbs down from his chair and starts mildly slapping the net cord with his right hand. No one knows why. John Isner winds up for a backhand and misses the ball entirely. No one knows why.

 

What's going on here? Once, long ago, I think that this was a tennis match. I believe it was part of a wider tennis tournament, somewhere in south-west London, and the winner of this match would then go on to face the winner of another match and, if he won that, the winner of another match. And so on until he reached the final and, fingers crossed, he won the title.

 

That, at least, is what this spectacle on Court 18 used to be; what it started out as. It's not that anymore and hasn't been for a few hours now. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it is long and it's horrifying and it's very long to boot. Is it death? I think it might be death.

 

42 games all.

 

7.10pm: It's 43-43 and John Isner is serving to make it 44-43, after which Nicolas Mahut will serve to make it 44-44. I'm indebted to the commenter who explained that Nicolas Mahut recently knocked the sensor of the net and that this is why the umpire climbed down off his chair and started slapping the cord with his hand, with his mouth hanging open and vomit all down the front of his shirt. For a moment I had hoped the slapping might have been his way of summoning the angel we've all been talking about, the one that will come down and usher the contestants up to their Eternal Rest. But no. Turns out it was just something to do with the net sensor.

 

Isner moves to 44-43. Mahut now serving to make it 44-44. Fingers crossed he makes it!

 

7.20pm: And so this match goes on and on, on and on. Somewhere along the way, the players have mislaid their names. The man who was once Mahut is now a string-bag of offal. The man who was Isner is a parched piece of cow-hide. The surviving members of the audience don't seem to care who wins. They just cheer and applaud whoever looks likely to make a breakthrough and bring this nightmare to a close. Invariably they are disappointed.

 

The offal looks fresher, possesses a piercing backhand and still throws itself about the court on occasion. But the cow-hide can serve and has the advantage of going ahead by one game and forcing the offal to catch-up. This the offal is only too happy to do. It hits a backhand down the line and then follows that up with an ace, and the score now stands at 45 games apiece.

 

7.30pm: Let it end, let it end, it's 46-all. It was funny when it was 16-all and it was creepy when it was 26-all. But this is pure purgatory and there is still no end in sight. John Isner has just struck his 90th ace. Nicolas Mahut, poor, enfeebled Nicolas Mahut, has only hit 72. Maybe we should just decide it on the number of aces struck? Give the game to Isner and then we can all crawl into our graves.

 

7.45pm: What happens if we steal their rackets? If we steal their rackets, the zombies can no longer hit their aces and thump their backhands and keep us all prisoner on Court 18. I'm shocked that this is only occurring to me now. Will nobody run onto the court and steal their rackets? Are they all too scared of the zombies' clutching claws and gore-stained teeth? Steal their rackets and we can all go home. Who's with me? Steal their rackets and then run for the tube.

 

It's 48-48. What further incentive do you need?

 

8pm: Don't look now but I think the cow-hide has officially expired. John Isner stands at the baseline. He is facing the right way but he is no longer moving and the string-bag of offal peppers him with aces left and right to bring the score to 50-50. But Cow Hide is still facing the right way and that says something. And he is still vertical, and that says something too. What it says, unfortunately, is that the match is not quite over yet.

 

8.05pm: In the stands, a woman is laughing. She laughs long and hard and her laugh is the sort of ghastly yodel you normally hear in antique horror movies about Victorian insane asylums. "Wa-la-ha-la-wah," she goes. "Wa-la-ha-la-ha-la!" Will nobody drag her out? Call in the goons in white coats. Get this woman to a lobotomy!

 

Mahut is serving to make it 51-51. Wouldn't you know it, he does. He makes it to 51-51, finishing up with an ace.

 

8.20pm: Wow, is that really the time? I must go home; can't think what's kept me. Wa-ha-la-ha-la-ha-la!

 

Oh yes, just remembered. The tennis. The tennis. Out there on Court 18, our two white-clad derelicts dig deep into the reserve tanks and remember to run again. They move along the baseline, coaxing the ball back and forth, back and forth until Mahut falls over. Is he ever going to get up? Astonishingly, he does. At game point, he pushes Isner into his backhand corner, staggers in to the net and dinks a drop volley. It's 53-53.

 

8.30pm: "John!" chants the crowd. "John! John! John!" They're either calling for Isner or calling for a bathroom break, or possibly both. I'm still not convinced they want Isner to win any more than they want Mahut to win. They just want someone to win; anyone to win. They just long to be released and to go back home. Possibly via the bathroom.

 

They are chanting "John!" because Isner gets to 0-30 on Mahut's serve and is therefore just two points from victory. Chant all you like, it won't change a thing. Mahut fights back and the score is tied again, at 54 games apiece.

 

8.40pm: It's 56 games all and darkness is falling. This, needless to say, is not a good development, because everybody knows that zombies like the dark. So far in this match they've been comparatively puny and manageable, only eating a few of the spectators in between bashing their serves.

 

But come night-fall the world is their oyster. They will play on, play on, right through until dawn. Perhaps they will even leave the court during the change-overs to munch on other people. Has Roger Federer left the grounds? Perhaps they will munch on him, hounding him down as he runs for his car, disembowelling him in the parking lot and leaving Wimbledon without its reigning champion. Maybe they will even eat the trophy too.

 

Growing darker, darker all the while.

 

8.45pm: A tweet, a tweet from Mr Andy Murray. "This," he says, "is why tennis is one of the toughest sports in the world." Thanks for that Andy: wise words indeed. Actually we were hoping you were tweeting to say when the angel was coming to rescue us all. Instead we get that. You sit comfortably, and eat your nice dinner, and spare us the tweets. Unless they're about the angel, that is. We still have hopes for the angel.

 

And ooh look, it's 57-games all.

 

8.55pm: Yet again, Mahut wobbles on the brink of defeat. Yet again he steadies himself. One minute Isner has him at 30-30. The next he's through again and we're tied at 58 games apiece.

 

But wait! An official has stepped out on the court. Is it an official, or is it the angel? Is this endless, epic Battle of the Zombies finally going to be brought to a close?

 

8.59pm: No. It's not. At least not just yet. An exhausted Isner is serving to make it 59-58. An exhausted Mahut runs for a volley and falls flat on his face. An exhausted umpire calls the score in a dreadful, reedy croak. An exhausted Isner takes the game. It's 59-58.

 

9.10pm: Is it over? It is not over. For a brief moment back then, I thought it was over. Isner clambers to match point on Mahut's serve. Mahut steps forward and saves it with his 95th ace. It's 59-59.

 

Mahut wants to come off now; the light is almost gone. But the official orders the pair to play two more games. "We want more! We want more!" chant the survivors on Court 18. I'm taking this as proof that they have gone insane.

 

9.12pm: Mahut prevails! Mahut wins! This is not to say he wins the match, of course. Nobody is winning this match; not now and not ever. But he prevails in his complaint and his wish is granted. Play is suspended. They will come back tomorrow and duke it out all over again. The scoreboard will be re-set at 0-0 first set and Isner and Mahut will take it from there.

 

OK, so they won't do that, exactly. Instead, they will pick it up where they left off, at 59-59 in the final set. Apparently the last set of this match has now lasted longer than any match in tennis history. Can this really be true? Nothing would surprise me anymore.

 

9.25pm: Last thoughts before I ring me a hearse. That was beyond tennis. I think it was even beyond survival, because there is a strong suggestion (soon to be confirmed by doctors) that John Isner actually expired at about the 20-20 mark, and Mahut went soon afterwards, and the remainder of the match was contested by Undead Zombies who ate the spectators during the change of ends (again, this is pending a police investigation).

 

Still, if you're going to watch a pair of zombies go at each other for eleventy-billion hours, far into the night, it might as well be these zombies. They were incredible, astonishing, indefatigable. They fell over frequently but they never stayed down. My hat goes off to these zombies. Possibly my head goes off to them too.

 

It's a crying shame that someone has to lose this match but hey-ho, that's tennis. The historic duel between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut will resume tomorrow and play out to its conclusion. Possibly. Maybe they'll just keep going into Friday and Saturday, Sunday and Monday; belting their aces and waiting for that angel to come and lead them home. As the woman in the stands might say, "Wa-ha-la-wa-ha-la-la-la!"

 

OK, it's the Guardian blog, but still.

[Gemmill 46081]

It reads like a Stephen King short story. The Guardian minute by minute coverage can often throw up some gems.

[Rob W 0]

what amazed me was that they were still playing decent tennis at 59-59

[Toonpack 9973]

what amazed me was that they were still playing decent tennis at 59-59

 

Aye, watched a bit of it, the big fella looked completely out on his feet between points, yet still hit some belting shots, bet they're both a bit achy this morning !!!

Edited June 24, 2010 by Toonpack

[Holden McGroin 6785]

Isner was just saving his energy for serving. They were going no-where. There was only 1 break point in the last 30 games or something.

[Sonatine 11564]

Isner won, 70-68

[Holden McGroin 6785]

I bet he gets beat in the next round!

[manc-mag 1]

I bet he gets beat in the next round!

 

Straight sets. On and off in under 2 hours.

[Sonatine 11564]

I bet he gets beat in the next round!

 

Straight sets. On and off in under 2 hours.

 

Lost 6-0 6-3 6-2 in 74 minutes

 

Looked totally shagged out tbf.

[manc-mag 1]

I bet he gets beat in the next round!

 

Straight sets. On and off in under 2 hours.

 

Lost 6-0 6-3 6-2 in 74 minutes

 

Looked totally shagged out tbf.

 

[Guest alex]

Are people getting behind the 'Brit' then or is it a case of anyone but Murray? Assuming you give a shit, that is.

[Dr Gloom 22181]

yeah. i'm supporting andy 'you can't hurry' a murry

Edited June 30, 2010 by Dr Gloom

[Tom 14013]

After England's world cup and during the proper bit once we've went out I find it quite hard to be bothered about some haggis munchers tennis career.

 

That said he should have a decent chance of doing very well this year.

[Guest alex]

He's a bit fucking boring though, isn't he? It would be nice is a way to see him do it but he's not really a player I like to watch. Up against Charles Insomnia's cousin this afternoon anyway. Should win it and I think it's his best chance yet this year.

[Dr Gloom 22181]

he'll choke against federer or nadal. the longer it takes him to pick up a major, the more chance there is of being the next nearly man in the henman mould.

 

agree about his style. boring as fuck. he's the typically modern tennis player - a baseline container that bores his opponent into a mistake with endless defensive shots rather than getting on the front foot. bit like nadal really, must be a nightmare to play against.