Lord’s v Wimbledon
The Spin was at the Saturday of the Lord’s Test and even paid for its ticket. A few days later, it was taken to Wimbledon by its Mum. Sitting watching some men’s doubles, it found itself comparing the two experiences. The MCC and the All England Club stage different ball-games but they are venerable London clubs that have become world-famous to the point where their premises are widely regarded as (dread word) iconic. If we make some allowances for apples and oranges, it seems reasonable to weigh them against each other. So here it is: Lord’s v Wimbledon – the showdown.
1) Getting a ticket: At Lord’s, you either have to be a member (which means decades on the waiting list), or know one, or enter the ballot. At Wimbledon, likewise – except that some tickets go to tennis clubs, which is (a) an enlightened policy and (b) the way Mum got ours. The Wimbledon ballot started in 1924 and hardly seems to have been updated since: this may be the last institution on earth that expects you to send in a Stamped Addressed Envelope. And Wimbledon pours cold water on anyone expressing interest in a particular day, whereas Lord’s allows preferences, and reverts to a normal online booking system if the ballot doesn’t swallow every seat. But then Wimbledon encourages people to queue up for day tickets – until the last four days, when the drawbridge goes up. So both systems are somewhat hidebound. Winner: Lord’s, just
2) The price you pay: The Spin’s Wimbledon ticket was £58 (thanks Mum), which seemed a bit steep (sorry Mum) for what it was: No1 Court on a day, the second Thursday, when all the action was on centre – both the women’s semi-finals and then Jamie Murray and Martina Hingis in the mixed doubles, the smiliest form of tennis, which could surely have been handed to No1 as a consolation prize. At Lord’s, you know what you’re getting unless it rains or the match ends early, but two seats in the upper tier of the Compton stand were a testing £180. I took my godson, who used to be a cheap date when he was under 16 (only a tenner) but is now a student, with no concessions, which seems the wrong way to treat the spectators of the future. Lord’s is adept at varying its prices – at the Women’s World Cup Final, most punters will have paid only £30 – but it does milk its Tests, making itself more exclusive than it needs to be. Wimbledon is prone to the same disease but at least if people leave early, their tickets are re-sold for a tenner. Winner: Wimbledon
3) Location, location, location: Wimbledon is out in the suburbs, nearly a mile from the tube – and on the District, the line that loves to change its mind about where it’s taking you. Lord’s is way more convenient, only two stops from the West End and close to five mainline stations. If sports grounds appeared on the Monopoly board, Lord’s would be worth far more. Winner: Lord’s.
4) Queue up, queue up and watch the game: At Lord’s, the queue at the East Gate often resembles Gatwick, and more so this year because everybody is being frisked. When England slumped to 20 for six against South Africa in and ODI in May, the Guardian OBO stalwart Gary Naylor observed that six wickets had fallen in less time than it took to have your picnic hamper searched. At Wimbledon, even as Jo Konta’s semi-final loomed, the security people kept calm enough to settle for a bag search, and there was no queue at all. Winner: Wimbledon.
5) Build it and … Like a granny with a collection of tattoos, Lord’s has great taste in new stands, Compton and Edrich excepted. After 15 years of false starts, MCC may even be about to get their Nursery End development plan right. Wimbledon’s skyline is more prosaic, but it has the priceless asset of the sliding roof. And it pimps its pedestrian brickwork with thousands of purple petunias (thanks Mum). Winner: Lord’s.
6) A ring-side seat: The most important thing of all is the issue raised by David Bowie in Life on Mars?: does your seat give the clearest view? At Wimbledon, the answer is usually yes. Tennis is a superb spectator sport – intimate, gladiatorial, fast but not too fast, and full of artistry. (Its perfection would be complete if they got rid of the second serve, which has led, in the men’s game, to an epidemic of boring aces.) Cricket can match all those strengths, bar the intimacy. It’s a superb spectator sport only for those sitting on their sofa. When you’re there, you’re just too far from the action: Lord’s is a lovely old theatre, but every spectator is stuck in the back row of the upper circle, or, worse still, the stalls. While this is the game’s fault, not the ground’s, MCC could do more to offset it by using the video screens better and having more of them. Winner: Wimbledon.
7) A word from our sponsors: Sports need sponsors and advertisers, but they also need to keep them in their place. Wimbledon, which knows its own worth, forms partnerships on its own terms: there are sponsors’ logos on court, but they are forced to fit in with the club’s colour scheme, white on dark green. As you survey the scene, the only bum note is the cream trousers foisted on the line judges – if the players have to wear white, everybody else on court should be in dark colours, to fade into the shadows. At Lord’s, there are hoardings all round the ground that can be even more of an eyesore than the members’ blazers. A sponsor’s logo is even allowed on the field, which is as criminal as making footballers advertise companies on their chests. Winner: Wimbledon.
8) The common touch: The history of organised games is the process of going from affluent amateurs amusing themselves to professional administrators trying to please the public. On this front, Wimbledon had a stroke of genius when it put the big screen on what became Henman Hill. As soon as Jo Konta started knocking up with Venus Williams, Mum and The Spin abandoned our seats on No.1 Court for the hill, where we sheepishly grabbed a patch of about two square feet. It was less comfortable – and mildly absurd, paying for a seat that you then vacate – but more atmospheric, more communal, more fun. Lord’s does have a screen at the Nursery End, but it’s too half-hearted to have won a place in the crowd’s affections. Winner: Wimbledon.
9) Feeding the 25,000: Never mind the action, we Brits need our tea. And our lunch. Both venues get a point for allowing you to bring your own food – arenas and festivals, please note. But they have to be catering operations too. Lord’s, which used to be the home of the soggy sandwich, has done what Britain as a whole has done over the past 30 years, and become a place with a decent cosmopolitan palate. Wimbledon has a canteen in the basement which is dismal, slow-moving, and doesn’t offer enough choice – it’s as if they think because they’re famous for strawberries and cream it means not having to make an effort with other options. Winner: Lord’s.
10) The Ladies and the Gents: The first rule of stadium design ought to be: build more toilets. The only big venue that has enough, in the Spin’s experience, is the new Wembley, which claims that its tally of 2,618 loos is a world record. Whether there’s a queue at the tennis or the cricket depends on your gender: at Lord’s you can spend half the lunch break in the queue for the gents, while at Wimbledon it’s slow going for the ladies. The facilities themselves are a study in contrasts. Lord’s loos, all porcelain and puddles, seem designed to remind the members of their old schools; Wimbledon’s are more corporate, with oak veneers and signs of frequent cleaning. Winner: Wimbledon.
11) Even icons need iconography: Lord’s has a logo – which looks as if it was rejected by a cricket-themed wine bar for being too naff. It also has colours, the famous egg-and-bacon, but tends to use them too splashily or not at all. Wimbledon’s logo, a badge with a pair of crossed racquets, is far more elegant, and it deploys its purple-and-green livery well, even putting it on the signs for the toilets. Both venues have recently woken up to the uses of blow-up photos of past players, thereby arriving in the 20th century just after it ended. Wimbledon has the more evocative photography and the sense to use the players’ first names; Lord’s, while starchily insisting on initials, at least uses each picture to honour a famous feat. Winner: Wimbledon.
12) The media and the message: Both these venues do well in the papers, which perpetuates the idea that Lord’s is the @homeofcricket and Wimbledon is the grandest of the slams. Lord’s rules the radio waves, lending itself beautifully to the gentle rhythms of Test Match Special, whereas nobody has yet worked out how to talk fast enough to capture a good rally on the radio. Both clubs have adapted well to the new age of social media, putting out clips and glimpses from behind the scenes, though the MCC really should give #loveLords a rest – we love you anyway, there’s no need to be needy. But the big one here is television. Every big occasion at Lord’s is reserved for Sky subscribers, not that the MCC has any say in that decision. Wimbledon has kept itself on the BBC, and thus in the fabric of national life – showing that its vision is greater than its greed. Winner: Wimbledon, by a street.
Scores on the doors: Lord’s 4-8 Wimbledon. In the end, it wasn’t even close.
• This is an extract taken from The Spin, the Guardian’s weekly cricket email. To subscribe, just visit this page and follow the instructions.
