When the players arrive, something similar happens in the stands. Wimbledon is the one Grand Slam that, in my view, consistently draws not just fans but families, by blood or chosen. 

Unlike any other major sporting event, Wimbledon still allows fans to queue for a chance to buy same-day show-court seats at face value, or enter the grounds for as little as £33. This creates an atmosphere in which families can afford to attend and celebrate in community. 

Last year, even though I had a media pass, I spent a morning in the queue to experience that particular camaraderie. Every other group I spotted in line was playing a board game, a card game, soccer, or participating in some other analog communal engagement as they waited, sometimes with champagne at 9 a.m. Some people spoke English, others in German, French, and Japanese. Everyone was excited. 

I saw multi-generational groups, or groups of 60-something gals in hand-embroidered hats who’ve been coming for decades to queue together, picnic on Henman Hill together, and treat the fortnight as an annual retreat.