Wimbledon

We all start off in life with a dream, don't we?

For a tennis player, it's being in the final of the Grand Slam...

center court, a high lob, a smash.

Game, set and match... you're a champion.

You're number one.

But for most tennis players, that's all it ever is... a dream.

The reality is another story... my story.

You see that good-looking fella?

No, not the kid in white. The other, tired, good-looking fella.

Yeah. Him. Well, that's me.

British Davis Cup a long time ago.

Two singles titles even longer ago.

Presently ranked 119th in the world.

Sport is cruel.

Now, I know it doesn't sound too bad.

Four million tennis players in the world, and I'm 119th.

But what that really means is this...

118 guys out there are faster,

stronger, better and younger.

And it gets you thinking.

You'll be 32 in... The prime of my life.

How long can Peter Colt keep playing this game? Time to retire gracefully.

Stop it. Stop it. Just serve.

These young guys... where do they get the energy, the focus?

No fear. You see, the one thing you can't have is fear.

And for the first time in my life, I'm afraid.

Not of losing. I'm not even afraid of the kid.

I'm afraid of what happens if that ball keeps going by me.

What happens then?

I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of having it engraved.

- Wow. - Exactly.

Frankly, my biggest problem is parking. Right.

Mm, not for you, of course. No. Your own space.

Nameplate again. Oh, good.

Hello, Ian. Is this the young man you were telling us about?

Mm-hmm. Peter Colt, the one and only.

Once ranked 15th in the world, I hear.

Uh, 11 th, actually, for the better part of'96.

Yes. Peter's got himself a wild card at Wimbledon.

- Then we're hoping he'll be hanging his racket here at the club. - Well, we'll see.

We shall look forward to giving you a peek at our ground strokes. Won't we, ladies?

- Oh, do shut up, Sylvia. Good luck at the championships, young man. - Thank you very much.

Yes. Carry on. Uh, Peter. Peter.

Watch the ladies. Occupational hazard. Of course.

Oh, look at this. Look at this.

Completely new hybrid. Yes, developed by the Yanks.

Firm but springy.

Look, Peter.

I can't wait forever. There's no one else I'd rather... Ian.

Look no further. You have your tennis director.

Oh, that is splendid. So splendid.

Oh, look. That's Peter Colt, the new pro.

Once ranked 17th in the world.

Eleventh! I was ranked 11 th in the world.

What makes one tennis player different from another?

It isn't a killer forehand or serve. Lots of people have those.

But the great ones have something else.

Some say it's a supportive family.

Others say it's being hungry, really hungry.

But as you can see, I've never been hungry.

Hello. And as far as a supportive family goes...

Mum? Dad?

Anybody home?

Hello, Carl.

Life still giving you trouble, is it?

"Deep Throat." Director's cut. Absolute classic.

Hey.

They've been at it like that... like cats and dogs... for weeks.

You all right, Dad?

Yes, yes, yes.

You got our Wimbledon tickets sorted yet?

'Cause, you know, I don't wanna miss your grand finale.

Interesting bit of trivia actually. I've never won a match at Wimbledon with my family in attendance.

We're not invited? No.

- She's not gonna like that. - What won't I like?

Hello, darling. You're looking rather gaunt.

Thank you. Why is Dad so upset? Oh. Ridiculous man.

For some reason, he believes I'm having an affair with Eliot Larkin.

Mother. He saw you snogging in the club car park.

Well, that would do it. Not in the kitchen.

I wanted your father to see us. That was the point.

Shake him out of his stupor, compel him to act.

I hear you're planning to retire to babysit a bunch of old ladies.

Not what your father and I had in mind all those years ago cheering you on.

And do you know why? Because I believe you to be a truly great tennis player.

Oh, God. You've just always been afraid to admit it to yourself.

I'm not afraid. I'm old. Oh, don't be absurd.

Thirty-one is not old. It is in tennis years.

I might as well be your age. Thank you, dear.

And I'm tired of hotels, and I'm tired of airports...

and long-distance love affairs that never go anywhere and...

- Losing? - Yeah, losing. Thanks, Carl.

Now tell her about the tickets.

Tickets?

Oh, God. You really are a wanker, aren't you?

Harsh but fair.

Why doesn't he have the tickets?

I mean, do you know why? What does he think?

Does he think we're going to sit here watching it on television?

Dad, what are you doing up there?

I should've moved up here years ago.

Right. Well, I'm off up to Wimbledon then. Righto.

Peter. Yeah.

Remember I always told you that tennis was a gentleman's game?

Yeah. Total bollocks.

Everything I ever told you... total bollocks.

Right then.

- Welcome to the Dorchester, Mr. Colt. - Thank you.

You have a suite, top floor. Wonderful view.

Really, I think you might have made a...

Thank you.

Wow.

Well, they weren't wrong about the view.

You need something? Yeah, I...

I'm so sorry. I was given the key to Room 1221.

This is Room 1221... my 1221.

Oh, right. Your 1221. Well, that makes perfect sense.

- What makes perfect sense? - You see, I'd reserved a more modest room.

Now I'll go down to the front desk and...

thank them for this dreadful error.

Good-bye then.

Yes, good-bye. And may I say good body... Luck!

Shit. I meant...

Shit.

Oh. Lovely kitchen.

This way.

See now? That's much cozier.

Yeah. I get a lot of questions about my personal life.

- I usually don't answer them. - That's why it's called a personal life.

Right. I mean, I just want to focus on my game, you know?

Unfortunately... I have to agree with my dad on this one...

all that other stuff just gets in the way.

But, Lizzie, you have had problems with chair umpires this year.

Some of the players think you go out of your way to disrupt a match.

I really don't. I mean, you know,

maybe I go a little over the top sometimes,

but, you know, maybe that's what I need to do to play my best.

And that's why I came to London... to win Wimbledon.

We'll be watching. Good luck.

Gonna knock 'em dead this year, Peter? That's the idea, Danny.

I've got a strong feeling. Thanks, Danny.

Gonna knock 'em dead this year, Ivan? I'll do my best for you.

I've got a strong feeling.

- See you later. - Hey, Dieter. You wanna go for dinner?

Afraid not. There's a chance I may get lucky tonight. Oh, really?

Intriguing Irish girl. Her father owns much of Dublin.

Excellent. She have a sister?

Only child. Tragic.

I should stay and work on my serve anyway.

This is my last hurrah. I wanna go out in style.

Well, that's the spirit, old man.

Bugger.

Oops.

Sorry. Wrong court. Forgotten me already?

God, no. You're the lady with the lovely... kitchen. Uh-huh.

Lizzie Bradbury, right? And you're?

Peter. Peter Colt. Nice to meet you, Peter Peter Colt.

- Five quid says you can't do it again. - Mm-hmm.

Ten bucks says you can't hit two in a row.

You're on.

Lovely form. Thank you.

Hmm. You're exceeding my expectations. Mine too.

Do it with a slice serve, I'll treat you to fish-and-chips.

Ooh. The pressure's on.

Lovely toss.

- Fish-and-chips it is then. - Lizzie, sweetheart, what the heck are you doing?

- Oh, just one more serve, Daddy. - You gotta be back in the hotel in 20 minutes for an interview.

Two seconds, okay?

It's funny. You don't seem the "Daddy" type.

Hit this one, and I'll sleep with you.

I'm so sorry!

Too bad. You could've used the workout.

Hello, and welcome to day one of the championships,

where the players meeting on center court today...

include Andy Roddick, Serena Williams...

and Britain's best hope for a title, Tom Cavendish.

Other Brits in action include journeyman veteran Peter Colt.

And today marks the Wimbledon debut of American Lizzie Bradbury.

We'll see if she can live up to her lively reputation.

What are you talking about?

The chalk flew up. There's a mark right there.

- The ball was out. - Get on with it!

You know what, I'll let it go.

'Cause you obviously can't see it, and I feel sorry for you.

30-15.

Quiet, please.

40-15. Yes!

How are you doing? What time's your match?

3:00. Ajay Bhatt. You ever heard of him?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

He's sitting over there. Look. Oh, my God.

Shouldn't he be off discovering masturbation or something?

Played him at Bogota. He's like all young men...

out to destroy us, to kill the father.

And like all young men, he must first be taught the lesson of humility.

Exactly. And you taught him that lesson in Bogota?

Sadly, no. He killed the father... straight sets.

Watch out for his backhand.

Twenty pound to win... Ajay Bhatt.

Hold on. Hold on. Isn't he playing your brother?