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Am I a big tennis fan? Frankly no, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend a gloriously sunny day at the world famous Wimbledon. The tickets were for Court One and my companion excitedly informed me that I could expect some cracking tennis, including a performance by Andy Murray!

For the first hour or so, we strolled around the perfectly manicured grounds, drinking in brand-coloured flowers cascading over every ridge. We wandered past the outdoor courts, craning our necks to see over spectators’ heads and catch a glimpse of the players. Clad in their whites, they performed gymnastic-like moves whilst the balls thundered across from one side of the court to the other. A combination of grunts from the players and ohh, ahhhs from the spectators added to the sense of pleasure, of attending this most famous event.

Finally it was time to take our seats and settle down to some world quality tennis. But only an hour into this watching marathon I tired of my head turning from side to side, so tucked into the most delicious and overpriced strawberries and Pimms. As I munched and slurped away, my attention was drawn to everything but the players. I began observing the processes, traditions and formalities. The uniforms, how staff marched on and off the court, how the balls were prepared and delivered to the players. The green colour of the buildings. How tentatively the ball boys and girls would gather the balls and catch the sweat-drenched towels that the players threw in their direction. The servicemen and womenwho manned the entrance, the perfect white lines. How gloriously military everything was – a precise, regimented engine dedicated to celebrating two opponents as they cannon-fired their green balls at each other, with modern day infantry collecting and delivering the ammunition. Raging battles like long-ago, but instead of crossing swords, crossing rackets.

For some time I was lost in these thoughts, playfully musing about metaphors. After a while the match finished so I looked to my programme where upon I noticed the Wimbledon logo, which I was pleasantly surprised to see was an emblem of two crossed rackets. Hurrah, I salute the designer who crafted this logo and the precisely executed brand. I may not like tennis, but I love Wimbledon. Game, set and match.

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Author:

Marcus is a Creative Director with over 15 years London experience. Client experiences includes BBC, Timberland and Coca Cola. Marcus is a member of the Typographic Circle and D&Ad. A passion for playing cricket, exploring the Devon coastline and collecting 1950s cigarette adverts.

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