Wimbledon

[thwacking of tennis ball]

[thwacking continues]

with a dream, don't we?

it's being in the final of a Grand Slam,

Game, set and match.

- You're a champion. You're number one.|- [cheering]

that's all it ever is: a dream.

My story.

No, not that kid in white,

the other tired good-looking fella.

Yeah, him. Well, that's me.

British Davis Cup, long time ago.

Two singles titles, even longer ago.

Presently ranked 119th in the world.

- Sport is cruel.

I know it doesn't sound too bad:

and I'm 119th,

but what that really means is this:

better and younger,...

and it gets you thinking.

[Peter's mother] He's 32 in September.

How long can Peter Colt keep playing?

[Peter] Stop it. Just serve.

where do they get the energy, the focus?

No fear.

The one thing you can't have is fear,

I'm afraid.

I'm not even afraid of the kid.

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.|- [chuckles] Exactly.

- My biggest problem is parking.|- Right.

Not for you, of course.|No, your own space. Name plate again.

Good.

Hello, Ian. Is this the young man|you told us about?

Peter Colt. The one and only.

- Once ranked 15th in the world, I hear.|- 11th, actually, for most of '96.

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

We're hoping he'll hang his racket|here at the club.

We'll see.

We shall look forward to giving you|a peek at our ground strokes.

Do shut up.|Good luck at the Championships.

- Thank you very much.|- [clears throat] Yes. Carry on.

Er, Peter, Peter. Watch the ladies,|occupational hazard.

- Of course.|- 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 I'd rather...|- Ian.

Look no further.|You have your tennis director.

That is splendid. So splendid.

- [birdsong]|- [church bells in distance]

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

Once ranked 17th in the world.

different from another?

Many people have those.

Some say it's a supportive family.

Really hungry.

I've never been hungry.

- And as for the supportive family...

Mum? Dad?

Anybody home?

[woman groans]

[panting]

[man and woman groan]

- [woman groans on TV]|- Hello, Carl.

Life still giving you trouble, is it?

Deep Throat,|director's cut. Absolute classic.

- Hey!|- [man and woman argue]

[Carl] They've been at it like that|like cats and dogs for weeks.

- You all right, Dad?|- [dismissively] Yes, yes.

Have you got|our Wimbledon tickets sorted?

Don't want to miss your grand finale.

I've never won a match at Wimbledon|with my family in attendance.

- We're not invited?|- Nope.

- She's not going to like that.|- What won't I like? Hello, darling.

- You're looking rather gaunt.|- Thank you. Why's Dad so upset?

Ridiculous man. He believes|I'm having an affair with Eliot Larkin.

Mother, he saw you snogging|in the club car park.

- 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 plan to retire,|to baby-sit a bunch of old ladies.

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

Do you know why? Because I believe you|to be a truly great tennis player.

You've always been afraid to admit it.

- I'm not afraid, I'm old.|- Don't be absurd, 31 is not old.

In tennis years,|I might as well be your age.

- Thank you, dear.|- I'm tired of hotels, airports,

long-distance love affairs and...

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

- Now tell her about the tickets.|- [excitedly] Tickets?

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

Harsh but fair.

[Augusta] Why doesn't he get us|tickets?! Do you know why?

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

Dad, what are you doing up there?

Should've moved up here years ago.

- I'm off up to Wimbledon, then.|- Righto.

- Peter?|- Yeah?

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

[Peter] Yeah.

Total bollocks.

Everything I ever told you.|Total bollocks.

Right, then.

- Welcome to the Dorchester.|- Thank you.

- Your suite is top floor. Superb view.|- Really? You might have made a...

Thank you.

- [telephone rings]|- [man] I'll just show you where...

Wow.

[water starts running]

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?|- I'd reserved a more modest room,

and now I'll go down to the front desk|and thank them for this dreadful error.

- Goodbye, then.|- Yes, goodbye.

And may I say good body... Luck!

Sh*t. I meant...

Sh*t.

- Lovely kitchen.|-This way.

See, now that's much cosier.

about my personal life.

- That's why it's "personal".

Right. I just wanna focus on my game.

with my dad on this one,

all that other stuff gets in the way.

with chair umpires.

deliberately disrupt matches.

a little over the top sometimes,

to play my best.

to win Wimbledon.

[interviewer] Good luck.

Gonna knock 'em dead this year, Peter?|I've got a strong feeling.

Thanks, Danny.

- Gonna knock 'em dead, lvan?|- I'll try.

[Danny] I've got a strong feeling.

[woman] See you later.

[Peter] Dieter, you wanna go for dinner?

- Afraid not. I may get lucky tonight.|- Oh, really?

Irish girl. Her dad owns much of Dublin.

Excellent. She have a sister?

Only child.

Tragic. I should work|on my serve anyway.

If this is my last hurrah,|I want to go in style.

That's the spirit, old man.

Bugger.

Oops. Sorry, wrong court.

- Forgotten me already?|- The lady with the lovely... kitchen.

- 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.

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

You're on.

- Lovely form.|- Thank you.

- 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.

- Lizzie, what are you doing?|- Just one more serve, Daddy.

You've got to be in the hotel|for an interview.

Two seconds, OK?

Funny, you don't seem the daddy type.

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

- Ooh!|- I'm so sorry!

Too bad. You could've used the workout.

of the Championships,

on Centre Court

include Andy Roddick, Serena Williams

Tom Cavendish.

include journeyman veteran Peter Colt.

of Lizzie Bradbury.

to her lively reputation?

What are you talking about?|The chalk flew up! There's a mark there!

- The ball was out.|- [man] Get on with it!

I'll let it go, cos you obviously|can't see. I feel sorry for you.

[crowd moans disapprovingly]

- [umpire] Quiet, please.

- [umpire] 40-15.|- [cheering]

[man] All right, Liz!

How are you doing?

- What time's your match?|- Three o'clock. Ajay Bhatt.

- You ever heard of him?|- Yeah, yeah.

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