How the roof turned Wimbledon into post-watershed entertainment

We have learned a lot about Wimbledon in this centenary celebration of the club’s fabled Centre Court, scene of probably more 20th-century sporting drama than any single arena outside Madison Square Garden.

The tennis, generally, has been dependably sublime, hitting repeated peaks. The commentary has swung between ooh-aah Iga, ta-ra, and, bloody hell, Nick’s at it again. McEnroe has gone from grey to white, and Sue’s face might yet crack entirely while smiling at his old jokes in her farewell fortnight. Billie Jean has been an enduring Queen. And the weather has … not been awful.

But the air, as ever, has been heavy with impending inconvenience, especially towards the end of long days as the clouds gather, the rain spits a little, the lights on Centre Court begin to glow and the 56,000 square feet of fabric forming the biggest umbrella in town rumble into place over the sacred turf that a hundred years ago accommodated the uncovered anarchy of Suzanne Lenglen. The French iconoclast would have had plenty to say about the French Federation putting a roof on her eponymous court at Roland Garros – and would have regarded it as sacrilege at Wimbledon.

The roof is a mechanical marvel, of course, the material chosen “because of its ability to flex and fold repeatedly without cracking” – which, at the end of the first week, sounded like the All England Club apologising for turning an outdoor jamboree of strawberries and drop shots into an invitation to finish the night quietly in a large tent before your parents get home.

Sally Bolton, the club’s chief executive, was not in apologetic mood on Monday, though. While Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic have led the complaints about the tournament being turned into a night event by