The Championships are over, the ivy on Centre Court is still glistening, and Iga Swiatek and Jannik Sinner have their names newly etched onto the honours boards. But before the grass is left to recover, allow me to hand out a few awards of my own. From a first British women’s singles finalist in nearly half a century to a men’s final that ran past 10pm, this was a fortnight that gave us everything – so here are my favourite moments from SW19.
Shot of the Championships
There were plenty of contenders. Carlos Alcaraz produced a running, behind-the-back flick against Novak Djokovic that had the Royal Box on its feet. Aryna Sabalenka hit a forehand so hard in her semi-final that the line judge flinched. But my award goes to Sonay Kartal, whose diving backhand volley in the third round against Elena Rybakina was the point of the tournament.
Kartal, ranked outside the world’s top 50 at the start of the fortnight, saved three break points in that game and went on to reach the fourth round – matching the best Grand Slam run of her career. For a player who spent last summer on the second-tier ITF circuit, chasing ranking points in front of a few hundred spectators, doing that on Court One in front of a full house was a genuine breakthrough. Remember the name.
Honourable mention to the doubles: the all-British pairing who took the mixed title deserved far more airtime than they got. Doubles remains the sport’s best-value entertainment, and nobody can convince me otherwise.
Story of the Fortnight
This has to be the British women. For the first time since Virginia Wade lifted the trophy in 1977, we had a home player in the singles final, and the run that got her there was built on nerve rather than luck. Three-set wins in the second round and the quarter-final, saving match points in one of them, showed a temperament that the doubters said she lacked. She fell just short against a supremely composed Swiatek, but a final is a final, and it moves her inside the world’s top 10 for the first time.
What matters now is what comes next. British tennis has spent two decades leaning almost entirely on Emma Raducanu’s 2021 US Open miracle and Andy Murray’s shoulders for its headlines. A home finalist at Wimbledon, backed by Kartal’s charge and Katie Boulter’s steady presence at the top of the domestic rankings, suggests genuine depth rather than a one-off. The hard-court swing to the US Open will tell us whether this was a grass-court fairytale or the start of something more durable. I suspect the latter.
On the men’s side, the significance was different but no less real. Sinner’s straight-sets dismantling of Djokovic in the semi-final felt like a passing of the torch. The 24-time major champion is 38 now, and while he is never done until he says so, the gap in raw pace was visible for the first time on this surface.
Best Dressed – and a Few Other Awards
Wimbledon’s all-white rule is the strictest in sport, which makes the small rebellions all the more fun. My best-dressed award goes to Ons Jabeur, whose tailored one-piece was elegant without straining the dress code. Special mention to the player who tested the officials with a bright undershirt on day one and was politely asked to change at the first changeover – a very Wimbledon way to lose an argument.
Celebration of the Championships belongs to Alcaraz, who climbed into his box after his quarter-final win and nearly took out a steward on the way up. Pure, unfiltered joy – the sort of thing that reminds you these are people in their early twenties, not machines.
My “welcome to Wimbledon” award goes to 17-year-old qualifier who won a set off the eventual women’s champion on Centre Court, then admitted in her news conference she had been revising for exams between practice sessions. If that does not make you feel old, nothing will.
And the moment I will remember longest? The Centre Court crowd, well past 10pm, refusing to leave until Sinner had done his lap of honour, phone torches lighting up the darkening sky. Wimbledon can feel buttoned-up at times, all strawberries and hushed politeness. But on the big nights, with the roof open and the light fading, there is nowhere in tennis quite like it. Roll on next July.













