New balls, please

Meet the man in charge of 64,000 Wimbledon tennis balls

Before Olympics fever takes over this Substack, I bring you the final installment of what turned into a ‘Humans of Wimbledon’ series. 

One of my favourite parts of Wimbledon always turns out to be covering the people behind the scenes.

The matches on court bring that magic to the All England Club, the elite action from the best players in the world that we follow day-to-day. But in the shadows of a show court, through sunshine and the dreary rain that plagued this year’s event, there are the people that you don’t often see, who work to make Wimbledon… well, work. 

And their stories as some of the most engaging in my opinion.

There’s the same enthusiastic steward standing guard between the practice courts at Aorangi Park each year checking access badges, who I’ve seen warmly greeted by players like Coco Gauff and Carlos Alcaraz. 

There are the dozen or so young people working on the media desk, who are available from dawn until beyond midnight, helping us get access to courts, print out obscure stats and answer boring questions about what time the transport to the station runs until. 

There’s the team of moderators who gently help players navigate press conferences - be it after their most exhilarating wins or the dreadful losses - while also giving space to the media to ask the burning questions of the day.

There’s the woman who swoops in during the final weekend, bringing in tow an entire wardrobe of designer gowns and tuxedos to dress the eventual champions. 

There’s Ella Ling, snapping photographs of each dramatic on-court moment, and Jessica Matthews who practices for six hours each day to help the most high-profile champions in the sport get their reps in. 

As a final reflection, I’ve dug out one of my interviews from this year’s fortnight that never saw the light of day in the midst of a busy tournament. 

Meet Andy Chevalier: the man in charge of 64,000 tennis balls at Wimbledon. 

The humble ball palace. Credit: Wimbledon

On the women’s semi-finals day, about an hour before play began, I was taken from the media centre towards Centre Court. Giddy fans, who were lucky enough to have tickets to what proved to be an epic semi-finals day, milled around the gangways leading up to the court. Myself and the club media manager accompanying me found our way through the crowds to a door under a stairwell.