(TENNIS RALLY PLAYING)
PETER: We all start off in life with a dream, don't we?
For a tennis player, it's being in the final of a Grand Slam.
Centre Court, a high lob, smash.
Game, set and match. You're a champion.
You're number one.
But for most tennis players, that's all it ever is:
a dream.
The reality is another story.
My story.
Now, you see that good-looking fella?
No, not the 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.
Now, I know it doesn't sound too bad.
Four million tennis players in the world and I'm 119th.
But what that really means is this:
118 guys out there are faster, stronger, better and younger.
And it gets you thinking.
(ECHOING) ...the prime of my life.
JOHN McENROE: How long can Peter Colt keep playing this game?
JOHN BARRETT: Time to retire gracefully.
PETER: Stop it. Stop it right now. Just serve.
These young guys, where do they get the energy to focus?
No fear.
You see, the one thing you can't have is fear.
And for the first time in my life, I'm afraid.
Not of losing. I'm not even afraid of the kid.
I'm afraid of what happens 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.
Frankly, my biggest problem is parking.
Right.
Not for you, of course. No, your own space.
Name-plate again. Oh, good.
(CHUCKLES)
Hello, Ian.
Is this the young man you were telling us about?
Mmm-hmm. Peter Colt, one and only.
Once ranked 15th in the world, I hear.
Eleventh, actually, for the better part of '96.
Yes, Peter's got himself a wild card at Wimbledon.
Then we're hoping he'll be hanging his racket here at the club.
Well, we'll see.
We shall look forward to giving you a peek at our ground strokes,
won't we, ladies?
Oh, do shut up, Sylvia.
Good luck at the Championships, young man.
Thank you very much.
(CLEARS THROAT) Yes. Carry on.
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.
I mean, there's no one else I'd rather...
Ian, look no further.
You have your tennis director.
Oh, that is splendid. So splendid!
Oh, look, that's Peter Colt, the new pro.
Once ranked 17th in the world.
Eleventh!
I was ranked 11th in the world.
PETER: What makes one tennis player different from another?
It isn't a killer forehand or serve.
Lots of people have those.
But the great ones have something else.
Some say it's a supportive family.
Others say it's being hungry. Really hungry.
But as you can see, I've never been hungry.
Hello?
And as far as the supportive family goes...
Mum? Dad?
Anybody home?
(COUPLE MOANING)
(COUPLE GRUNTING)
Hello, Carl.
(WOMAN MOANING ON TV)
Life still giving you trouble, is it?
Deep Throat, Director's Cut. Absolute classic.
Oh! Hey!
(BOTH ARGUING)
CARL: They've been at it like that, like cats and dogs, for weeks.
You all right, Dad?
Yes, yes, yes.
Got our Wimbledon tickets sorted yet?
'Cause, you know, I don't wanna miss your grand finale.
Interesting bit of trivia actually.
Do you know that I've never won a match at Wimbledon
with my family in attendance?
Oh, we're not invited?
No.
She's not gonna like that.
What won't I like?
Hello, darling.
You're looking rather gaunt.
Thank you. Why is Dad so upset?
Ridiculous man.
For some reason he believes I'm having an affair with Eliot Larkin.
Mother, he saw you snogging in the club car park.
Oh, 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're planning to retire,
to babysit a bunch of old ladies.
Not what your father and I had in mind all those years ago,
cheering you on.
And do you know why?
Because I believe you to be
a truly great tennis player. Oh, God.
You've just always been afraid to admit it to yourself.
I'm not afraid, I'm old.
Oh, don't be absurd, 31 is not old.
It is. In tennis years I might as well be your age.
Thank you, dear.
And I'm tired of hotels and I'm tired of airports
and long-distance love affairs that never go anywhere and...
Losing?
Yeah, losing. Thanks, Carl.
Now tell her about the tickets.
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? What does he think?
Does he think we're gonna sit here watching it on television?
(CONTINUES CHATTERING)
Dad, what are you doing up there?
I should have moved up here years ago.
(SIGHS)
Right. Well, I'm off up to Wimbledon then.
Righto.
Peter? Yeah?
Remember I always told you that tennis was a gentleman's game?
Yeah.
Total bollocks.
Everything I ever told you. Total bollocks.
Right then.
Welcome to The Dorchester, Mr. Colt.
Thank you.
You have a suite. Top floor. Wonderful view.
Really? I think you might have made a...
(CHATTERING INTO PHONE)
Thank you.
Wow!
(SHOWER RUNNING)
(SOFTLY) 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?
Well, you see, I'd reserved a more modest room.
And now I'll go to the front desk and thank them for this dreadful error.
Goodbye then.
Yes, goodbye.
And may I say good body... Luck.
Shit. I meant...
Shit!
Oh.
Lovely kitchen.
This way.
See, now, that's much cozier.
Yeah, I get a lot of questions about my personal life.
I usually don't answer them.
MARY CARILLO: That's why it's called a personal life.
Right. I mean, I just wanna focus on my game, you know.
Unfortunately, I have to agree with my dad on this one,
all that other stuff just gets In the way.
But Lizzie, you have had problems with chair umpires this year.
Some of the players think you go out of your way to disrupt a match.
(CHUCKLES) I really don't. I mean...
You know, maybe I go a little over the top sometimes,
but, you know, maybe that's what I need to do to play my best.
And that's why I came to London. To win Wimbledon.
We'll be watching. Good luck.
Gonna knock 'em dead this year, Peter?
Well, that's the idea, Danny.
I've got a strong feeling.
Oh, thanks, Danny.
Gonna knock 'em dead this year, Ivan?
I'll do my best for you.
DANNY: I've got a strong feeling.
PETER: Hey, Dieter, you wanna go for dinner?
Afraid not. There's a chance I may get lucky tonight.
Oh, really?
Intriguing Irish girl, her father owns much of Dublin.
Excellent. She have a sister?
Only child. Tragic.
PETER: I should stay and work on my serve anyway.
If this is my last hurrah, I wanna go out in style.
Oh, that's the spirit, old man.
Bugger!
Oops! Sorry, wrong court.
Forgotten me already?
God, no, you're the lady with the lovely kitchen.
Uh-huh. 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.
Mmm-hmm.
Ten bucks says you can't hit two in a row.
You're on.
Lovely form.
Thank you.
Hmm. You're exceeding my expectations.
Mine, too.
Do it with a slice serve,
I'll treat you to fish and chips.
Ooh, the pressure is on.
Lovely toss.
Fish and chips it is, then.
Lizzie, sweetheart, what the heck are you doing?
Oh, just one more serve, Daddy.
You've gotta be back in the hotel in 20 minutes for an interview.
Two seconds, okay?
Funny, you don't seem the daddy type.
Hit this one
and I'll sleep with you. (GRUNTS)
I'm so sorry!
Too bad. You could have used the workout.
BARRETT: Hello and welcome to day one of the Championships
where the players featured on Centre Court today
include Andy Roddick, Serena Williams
and Britain's best hope for a title, Tom Cavendish.
Other Brits in action include journeyman veteran Peter Colt.
And today marks the Wimbledon debut of American Lizzie Bradbury.
We'll see if she can live up to her lively reputation.
What are you talking about? The chalk flew up!
There's a mark right there!
The ball was out.
Get on with it!
You know what? I'll let it go.
'Cause you obviously can't see, and I feel sorry for you.
30-15.
(CROWD CLAPPING IN UNISON)
Quiet, please.
(BOTH GRUNTING)
40-15.
Yes!
(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)
What time's your match? 3:00.
Ajay Bhatt. You ever heard of him?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
He's sitting over there. Look.
Oh, my God!
Shouldn't he be off discovering masturbation or something?
I played him in Bogotá. He's like all young men.
Out to destroy us, to kill the father.
Like all young men, he must first be taught a lesson of humility.
Exactly. And you taught him that lesson in Bogotá?
Sadly, no. He killed the father, straight sets.
Watch out for his backhand.
COMMENTATOR: It will be a close run to the finish
with Shining Armour coming wide to challenge the leaders.
It's Bad Company...
(CONTINUES CHATTERING)
Twenty pound to win,
Ajay Bhatt. Hold on, hold on.
Isn't he playing your brother?
You should be ashamed of yourself.
Yeah. But curiously, I'm not.
(CROWD CHEERING)
PETER: So this is it.
This is the end. This is what it looks like.
One thousand balls a day, 300 days a year, for 25 years.
Six million balls.
And it all ends here,
at 2:00 in the afternoon on Court 17
while they're over on Centre Court
screaming for the latest Russian teenage beauty.
Well, let's see if I can at least make it last a little while.
Good luck, Mr. Colt.
Thank you.
Bhatt to serve. First set.
Right then.
UMPIRE: Play.
(BOTH GRUNTING)
(CROWD APPLAUDING)
Love-15.
PETER: Okay, nice, not embarrassing.
Another 71 like it and you've got it in the bag.
AUGUSTA: Oi, bloody rabbit, shoo!
(CHEERING ON TV)
BARRETT ON TV: A beautiful passing shot there.
And we have our first match point.
EDWARD: Yes, come on.
I must say, he's playing with new-found confidence today, all right.
Yes.
So here we are, match point.
(PLAYER SERVES)
Yes! Come on, get it.
A short return.
Yes, good shot, well done! Come on.
Come on. Yes, that's it! He's done it!
Peter Colt has advanced to the Second Round. He's done it!
He's through Round One!
Not interested.
What?
Not interested.
Oh, suit yourself.
So you think that kid has a future?
Yes, I do.
I expect one day to be the answer to the trivia question,
"Who beat Ajay Bhatt in his first ever Grand Slam?"
What Wimbledon is this for you, Peter?
It's my 13th, actually.
And since this may well be my last Wimbledon press conference,
I'd like to take the opportunity...
REPORTERS: Jake! Jake!
...to announce my retirement from...
(REPORTERS CLAMORING)
REPORTER: Come on, lad.
...tennis.
Hey, guys.
That's my retirement from tennis.
(CLAMORING CONTINUES)
Effective the moment this tournament ends.
All right, tomorrow morning I want you at the rear entrance,
9:00 sharp. We can avoid all of this. All right?
Excuse me. Excuse me, please.
Come on, sweetie.
PETER: Lizzie! Lizzie!
Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.
REPORTER: Jake, how is your injury?
AUTOMATED VOICE: You have one new message.
LIZZIE: Congratulations! You still owe me fish and chips.
Say 7:00, room 1221.
That's my 1221.
Oh, bollocks!
(KNOCKING) LIZZIE: It's open.
NEWSCASTER ON TV: ...appears tonight in the northern sky.
Once mistaken for a shooting star,
the comet gained its name (GLASS CLINKING)
from two US servicemen on patrol in the South Pacific.
It's the first time in 67 years It's appeared
and will be visible to the naked eye for the next two weeks.
Hi.
Two fish and chips as promised.
Um... What?
Let me just take this. Oh, jeez. How embarrassing.
Are you hungry?
Not quite.
I've got a question for you.
Right.
Where do you come down on the whole fooling around before a match issue?
Well, that's a very intriguing question.
Because I think a little fooling around
can be really good for your game.
You know? Help you relax.
Um, I'm not sure I've done enough research to have a definitive opinion.
That's very sad.
Yes, it is, isn't it? It is... It's very sad.
Don't get me wrong,
I'm very interested in doing the necessary research.
Are you?
I'm interested.
Peter,
no one can know about this, okay?
Really? I had been planning a brief press statement.
Seriously. Okay.
Especially my dad.
He's convinced if there's a guy around, my first serve gets mushy.
Well, you can't win Wimbledon with a mushy serve.
No.
So, we'll keep it light, okay?
Absolutely fine with me. We'll just keep it, you know, fun and
relaxed. Relaxed.
Good.
Peter?
Excellent. More research.
(CROWD GROANING)
BARRETT: And that's another point lost.
The truth is that Dragomir seems to have completely seized control on this court,
known as the Graveyard of Champions.
For some reason Peter Colt's game this afternoon
has been less than inspired.
PETER: Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm tired, so tired.
AUGUSTA: Of course you are.
Stay up all night doing research, you're bound to be exhausted.
UMPIRE: Game, Dragomir.
BARRETT: What a pity.
Dragomir leads five games to four in the fourth set...
Come on, Peter.
...and by two sets to one.
Hello, do you mind?
Oh, bugger! He was doing so well.
I wouldn't write him off just yet, Pauline.
Some young men, I find,
have a stamina that's really quite deceptive.
PETER: Second Round. That's not so bad. He did win the French Open.
At least you got three games off him.
Three games?
Three lousy games.
Last match of your career and you got three games?
UMPIRE: Time.
PETER: It's pathetic!
(CROWD APPLAUDING)
Well, at least there's no one here to see you lose.
LIZZIE: Come on, Peter!
Oh, great!
MAN: Come on, Pete!
(GRUNTING)
UMPIRE: Love-15.
BARRETT: Who would have thought 40 minutes ago
that we'd be in a fifth set?
But here, Peter Colt,
who hasn't beaten a top-10 player in the past two years, remember,
is at 5-4, three points from winning the match.
UMPIRE: 30-love.
You were with me last match.
Yes, sir. Brilliant play, sir.
Do you think I could trouble you?
Sorry.
(CROWD ENCOURAGING)
40-love.
BARRETT: And we have our first match point.
Out!
UMPIRE: Game, set, match, Colt.
BARRETT: Incredibly, the English wild card, Peter Colt,
has defeated the French Open Champion
to advance to the Third Round.
UMPIRE: Three sets to two, 6-4, 4-6, 2-6, 7-5, 6-4.
(GRUNTS ANGRILY)
PHOTOGRAPHER: Peter, this way, please.
Thought I'd done my last one of these.
MALE REPORTER 1: So did we.
(ALL LAUGHING)
MALE REPORTER 2: Peter, did you know
that Dragomir is the first seeded player you've defeated in three years?
Yes. Two months and 14 days, but who's really counting?
(REPORTERS LAUGHING)
What do you think of your next opponent?
Truthfully, in all the excitement,
I haven't even checked to see who it is.
FEMALE REPORTER: It's your practice partner, Dieter Prohl.
DIETER: So two friends must now face each other as enemies.
An intriguing existential dilemma.
PETER: Room 1221, please. Bradbury.
Is your elbow playing you up?
Well, if I admit to that, you may use it to your advantage.
Wow, that's terrible.
Is that what our friendship's come to?
Dodgy shoulder? Maybe? Have you? (CHUCKLING)
Oh, well, the truth is most everything aches.
What doesn't, I can't feel at all.
Tell me about it.
Yeah, hello? Hello?
We should still practice together.
We must stick to the routine.
Yeah. You know, the hotel offered me a better room
and I told them I'm on a roll at the moment, I'm not changing a thing.
At such moments our superstitions are all we have.
Exactly.
Even when I'm taking a shit,
I must do it exactly the same.
I'd never thought of that. That's genius!
You think of everything important, you do it the same.
Oh, wait a minute. Yeah.
Oh, that's okay, put me through.
Lizzie, Lizzie, don't say a word.
I was thinking a repeat of the other night.
Like fish and chips, early to bed.
Mr. Bradbury! Hello.
Mr. Bradbury?
Damn!
Yeah? Yeah.
(CROWD GROANING)
(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)
(SPEAKING ITALIAN)
BILLI: Peter.
Billi!
(GREETING IN ITALIAN)
Oh, you are the Dragomir slayer.
How are you? You look a million lira.
Thank you, thank you. I try.
Do you know my partner, Sophia?
No. Hi. Nice to meet you.
BILLI: So?
I'm looking for Lizzie Bradbury. Have you seen her?
No. You should ask Jake Hammond.
Oh, really, why?
Well, why do you think?
Oh, right.
Well, I better get a move on.
Ciao.
Good luck tomorrow. Thank you.
DENNIS: Looking for someone?
Yeah. (STAMMERING) Yes. Yes.
Wouldn't happen to be my daughter?
Yes, it would.
It's Colt, right?
Yes, but please call me Peter.
Lizzie is on a roll right now
and I don't want her to have any distractions.
Right. Of course.
Sorry, just to clarify, do you see me as a distraction?
That's exactly how I see you.
So stop looking for her.
Stop calling her, stop coming around.
Stop every damn thing that involves my daughter.
Is that clear?
(DISAPPOINTED CHATTERING)
DIETER: I suppose in a few thousand years
the English will have evolved webbed feet.
Yes, about the same time the first German evolves a sense of humor.
No, no, no. That's not fair.
Many times I make you laugh.
No, I'm laughing at you, not with you.
Somebody wants you.
Oh, you know what, I think I'll...
I think you will, too.
See, now that was quite funny.
Yeah, I know.
Hey, get some rest tonight! I don't wanna win too easily.
What with you and that, what is it, bad knee?
I have a little confession to make.
Oh, God.
When you walked into my room the other day?
Mmm-hmm.
I knew exactly who you were.
You did? Mmm-hmm.
I saw you play Tommy Haas at the Lipton last year.
Oh, shit.
(CHUCKLING) Yeah.
You were ahead but then you totally fell apart. Remember?
Yeah. As I recall,
the ball girl couldn't get out of the way of my serve.
You gallantly carried her off the court.
I thought you were such a
asshole (COUGHS)
to lose like that when you were playing so beautifully.
But I couldn't get it out of my head.
I kept hoping I'd run into you.
Until finally you walked into my hotel room.
Like a knight in shining armor perhaps?
No.
Trouble is I'm the one who needs saving.
Yesterday I was losing
and then I saw you watching.
(LAUGHING) What?
Perhaps my first serve is getting a little mushy.
(ROMANTIC SONG PLAYING)
(INAUDIBLE)
Oh! Hey, look.
There it is. The comet.
See, with the little tail behind it?
Hardly anything, is it?
Barely moving.
We have to wish on it.
Did you wish on your next match?
Wouldn't work if I told you.
Who do you play?
Good friend of mine, actually, Dieter Prohl.
A friend?
Then you should know how to beat him.
What are his weaknesses?
Um, sausages, Wagner, men in leather shorts.
In his game.
That's why I gave up having girlfriends in tennis.
You have to dig extra deep to kill your friends.
Now I have to kill him?
(CHUCKLES) Without thinking twice.
And I don't envy you. Why is that?
You practice together, you travel together,
you practically live together.
I mean, do you really have what it takes
to close out a friend in the Third Round of Wimbledon?
Because that is killing him.
It's a bullet to the heart.
That's what's tough about this game.
There's a winner and there's a loser.
And tomorrow one of you is going to be a loser.
(GRUNTS)
(SIGHS)
Bloody pedals!
(COMMENTATOR CHATTERING ON TV)
Hello, Vij.
What... Where the hell are the men's matches?
Roddick lost to Jake Hammond. Four sets, mate.
Shit, what about Peter and Prohl?
You didn't hear? No.
Straight sets, man. Peter decimated him, tore him to pieces, mate.
Shit!
What? You bet against him again?
Yeah. That bastard usually comes through for me.
He's been on such a good losing streak.
Here, are you Peter Colt's brother?
Possibly.
I've seen you in here, watching the matches.
Yeah.
You could say tennis is my life.
My passion is chat rooms.
CARL: Really?
Broadband.
Of course.
(SIGHING)
Well, you may have humiliated the kraut,
but you're not done with him.
We change your routine not one iota.
I'm still your practice partner.
Thanks, mate.
Anyway, you know it was a hell of a lot closer than the score.
A net cord here or there, it would've been a different story.
Bullshit.
You annihilated me.
You hit from the soul, the heart.
Something's happened to you.
Something else, something...
The girl in the taxi. The waving hand. That's...
That's where the fire comes from, admit it.
Dieter, listen.
Do you think that in the middle of a Championship,
when for the first time in years I'm actually winning,
I'd be dumb enough to get involved with a woman?
Absolutely.
AUTOMATED VOICE: You have eight new messages.
Well, aren't I popular?
(ANSWERING MACHINE BEEPS)
Peter, Ian Frazier from the club. Well done!
Take as long as you need before you start with us.
Oh, and the ladies send their regards.
(IAN LAUGHING)
(BEEPS)
LIZZIE: You were incredible today!
I have a free day tomorrow. I'll call you later.
(BEEPS)
AUGUSTA: Peter, remember me?
(DOORBELL RINGS)
It's your mother.
(AUGUSTA CHATTERING)
What did I always say about you?
I don't know. Remind me, Ron.
RON: So cucumber and cucumber. And cucumber.
They forgot to put the sandwich in my sandwich.
What are you doing here, Ron?
You're not still my agent, are you?
What are you talking about?
What am I talking about?
Okay. Well, I called you about a year ago,
and I'm still waiting for you to return my call.
Yeah, I'm into emails now, I don't do the phone thing anymore.
Ron, that's a lie.
Yeah, it's a lie.
You want me to be completely honest with you?
Agents are not miracle workers.
We can't sell a product that doesn't exist.
But here you are, existing again, so I'm back selling again.
You know what, Ron? I genuinely despise you.
And you know what, Peter?
I really don't take it personally.
Because this could all be over by Monday.
Cavendish is a serve-and-volley guy,
and you've always played shit against them.
So I'd like to capitalize now
if that's not a problem with you.
I don't want you to go down in history
as that English guy who beat his best friend, the German guy,
only to get beat by the other English guy.
I'd like to put some money in your pocket.
You got a problem with that?
You'd have to cut your commission.
Okay, look. Unfortunately that's a no-go area.
Everybody pays 10%.
Say 5% or the next offer is 4.
You know, success has really changed you.
And I'm loving it. Screw it, you got a deal.
Besides, I have a funny feeling that Cavendish is going down.
Tea? Yes. I'd love some.
Now let's get down to business.
Slazenger is having a cocktail party this evening
and everybody's dying to meet you for the very first time,
all over again.
(CROWD CLAMORING)
I'll call you back.
Ring me tomorrow. That's fine. Tomorrow...
Lizzie. Ronnie.
There she is. How they hanging?
Fine. And yours? Fine.
Who's your new friend? Aren't you going to introduce me?
You haven't met yet? Hi, I'm Lizzie.
Peter. Peter Colt.
The Peter Peter Colt?
The one and only.
Oh, I've heard a lot about you.
Oh, really? Nothing good, I hope.
That you're a man who's not afraid to come to the net.
Yeah, and I hear that this is your first Wimbledon
and you're gonna go all the way.
Every chance I get.
Well, well, well. If this works out, do I get the...
You can have 10% of our kids.
Oh, your kids, that's...
(WHISPERS INDISTINCTLY)
You all right? You look beautiful.
Thank you.
You come along and play matchmaker?
Did I do that? I'm sorry.
I just got excited by the math, that's all.
Let's have a drink, we could talk over this whole Nike thing
and you'll still have her home before she turns into a pumpkin.
One day none of this will be ours.
Oh, no, asshole incoming, four o'clock.
Lizzie, what's the deal? I've left you, like, half a dozen messages.
Oh, really? How about that?
Hi.
Do you know Peter Colt?
Yeah. We did meet once.
First Round, San Jose, last year.
Exactly. A memorable match.
Yeah. Which I, like, won.
(LAUGHS)
Peter's in the Quarters. Did you hear?
Wait a second.
Are you screwing him?
You know what... You are, aren't you?
I don't believe it.
Listen, my friend, we don't want...
Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you, grandpa, ranked, like, 120?
I thought all those things they said about you were just rumors,
but you really are a cheap little...
(GROANS)
Jesus, that really hurts.
But you did it so well.
MAN: Are you all right? I'm fine, I'm fine.
Good night, Jake.
Hey, yes. Don't get up.
JAKE: Leave me alone. I'll be fine.
That's the first time I've ever hit anybody in my whole life.
(ALL CLAMORING)
Lizzie! Lizzie!
(SCREAMS)
No, other side, other...
I've never had anyone fight for my honor before.
I kind of like it.
(LIZZIE SHRIEKS)
PETER: Jesus Christ! You're not safe to be with.
Wait till you see me drive.
PETER: So, these are the wild streets of my youth.
The drugs, the sex, the milkshakes.
My parents live here, and I still keep a flat.
Oh, so we can stay there tonight.
Yeah, but what about your dad?
Ah, let him find his own place.
(CHATTERING)
Parents are such a responsibility.
I know. They're worse than children.
Oh, definitely.
My parents got divorced when I was 13.
My mom was always on the road, trying to be a singer.
What went wrong?
She couldn't sing. (CHUCKLES)
So mainly my dad brought me up.
Mine are still together.
Which proves that love's not just blind, it's bloody stupid.
It's sad. Everything they used to love in each other
now seems to drive them crazy.
I can't imagine ever wanting to get married.
No. No.
I mean, that's why we love the tour, isn't it?
There's always another country, another airport.
Another girl.
That's right, Lesley.
Lizzie! I meant Lizzie.
You said Lesley. I meant, I meant...
Who's Lesley?
(BOTH MOANING)
As you can see, we've had to fire the builders
due to creative differences.
And truthfully, Peter's had a little bit of a liquidity problem.
Oh, my nan liked a drink.
Sherry. Right.
Piccy? Just a bitty.
Carl, what are you doing?
Ah, Pete, hi. Wasn't expecting to see you.
And shit, that's Lizzie Bradbury.
SHOP GIRL: Can I take a picture?
No, you bloody can't!
Digital. Look what I found.
Oh, hello. Give me that.
Who are you? I only got four pizzas.
Oh, for God's sake! Right, that's it. Get out!
Come on! You, too, sunshine. Move it.
Bugger! I had it on landscape!
Stop it. It's not funny.
I'm sorry. PETER: Move it! Come on.
Change of venue, girls.
Children, out. Your mum's or mine?
Big fan.
Carl, leave!
I am so sorry.
You might wanna change the sheets.
(ANSWERING MACHINE BEEPS)
Hi, Daddy, it's me.
I know you're probably going nuts and wanna kill me,
but everything's cool, really.
It's hard to explain
but I really needed to do this.
I gotta go. I'll see you at practice in the morning.
Everything all right?
Everything's great.
Wanna go have a workout?
I thought we just had one.
PETER: Now, are you sure about this? I usually do 10 miles.
So why are you running behind me?
Just enjoying the view.
(POP SONG PLAYING)
(INAUDIBLE)
Hey, look at that.
This is where my dad taught me to play tennis.
Look at it now, it's a shame.
Yeah.
(GRUNTS)
Ace!
Come on, make a little effort.
Ace!
What's the matter with you? Are you scared of a girl?
There's something I haven't told you.
What?
This is my last tournament.
No matter what happens.
But you're doing so great.
Hey, you just have to...
Keep winning.
Right.
So keep winning.
(IN ENGLISH ACCENT) Oh, finally, Colt returns
with a somewhat demure cross-court forehand.
Ah! Colt makes a smashing return.
With unladylike effort,
Bradbury strains to get to the ball.
Oh, it is an extremely high lob.
Will he maintain his gentlemanly composure
or will he, dare I say, win the point?
Hold on, what's happened to the ball?
Look.
Gotta go, bye.
Hundred quid on Cavendish in the Quarters.
Hold your horses.
So, still betting against your brother, are you?
It's tactical.
If he loses, I get rich, and if he wins, I get laid.
Where the heck did you get 100 quid anyway?
(CLICKS TONGUE)
Photo-journalism.
WOMAN ON TV: ...and put their friendships on the line
in a very challenging battle of design.
I trust you slept well
after your night of debauchery with the young master.
(IN SOUTHERN ACCENT) I declare I surely did.
Good, so did I.
God! No wonder the English never win Wimbledon.
I'd love to see an English guy in the Finals, but give me a break.
Peter Colt is the luckiest man in tennis.
Wanker!
(REPORTERS CLAMORING)
God, it's incredible how much that actor looks like your dad.
Oh, shit.
Incredible how much that building...
BOTH: Shit!
NEWSCASTER ON TV: The story broke this morning...
PETER: Quick, hide!
...published this candid photo of Peter Colt...
Oh, Carl, you bastard!
(KNOCKING) (EXHALES)
Oh, hello, Mr. Bradbury.
Where's my daughter?
Gone, sadly. Sadly, gone.
She had to go and work on that first serve.
I expect she meant to meet you at the practice courts.
You bullshitting me?
Absolutely not. I'd never bullshit you. I wouldn't dream of it.
So how was your trip down?
Because, you know, the traffic can be murder getting out of London.
We left early.
Well, the early bird does catch the...
(STUTTERING) Would you like a cup of tea?
Maybe something stronger. A shot of whiskey?
(NERVOUSLY) Shot at me, perhaps?
It's Peter, right?
Yeah.
Look, Peter, I got nothing against you personally.
You seem like a nice guy.
Oh, good.
I'm not an idiot.
I know that Lizzie likes to have her fun
and it keeps her relaxed.
And if you were just another easy...
You know, well, that would be one thing, but you're not, are you?
As a matter of fact, I was incredibly easy.
No, no, no. This time it's different. She's
falling for you.
Oh, I see.
Which is a total disaster.
Well, why? She's hardly lost a set.
Look, her footwork is off, her serve is a mess.
She's gotta get her head back in the game.
She's gotta remember what it is that she wants.
And what do you think that is?
What we've been working towards all these years.
What she's always wanted more than anything.
I still want it.
Oh, hi.
I want to win Wimbledon.
I'm sorry.
That's all right, sweetheart.
Well, we better get going. Got a lot of work to do.
Are you gonna go?
Yeah. He's right. I'm sorry.
PETER: Wait a second.
Lizzie. Lizzie.
Lizzie, this is ridiculous.
You're a grown woman, and you should be making your own decisions.
This is my decision. We can be together after the tournament.
After the tournament? What does that mean?
You can't just switch me on and off like a bloody light bulb.
I'll call you at the hotel.
DENNIS: We won't be at the hotel.
What?
I'm sorry, kid, but if you're together, she can't play.
(REPORTERS CLAMORING)
CROWD: (CHANTING) Tom! Tom! Tom!
BARRETT: This may be an all-British affair,
but Tom Cavendish is clearly in control of the crowd and the match today.
He's up a break in the first set,
and Peter Colt, with the expectations of an entire nation upon him,
seems to be withering under the pressure.
UMPIRE: Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
(GRUNTS)
Touch. 40-love.
BARRETT: So, that's set point for Tom Cavendish.
CHAUFFEUR: Now, Candy, look, they're only knocking the wall down
from the window to the patio door.
Well, talk to Sergei.
If she hits short, you come in.
Daddy, stop bugging me.
She will never pass you. I'm focused.
I know the game plan.
Yeah, right.
(MUSIC PLAYING ON HEADPHONES)
He's out of my head now. It's over.
Stop freaking out on me.
McENROE: Oh, yeah, it was definitely his ankle.
You can see how he landed right on it.
This is ugly.
(GROANING)
CROWD: (CHANTING) Cavendish! Cavendish!
CHRIS EVERT: Peter Colt may have just got himself a free pass to the Semis.
Think you can play on?
CROWD: (CHANTING) Tom! Tom! Tom!
McENROE: Not so fast, Chrissie.
Listen to that crowd.
They worship the kid here.
The question is,
will Colt be able to take advantage of Tom Cavendish?
He's never shown much of a killer instinct.
UMPIRE: Quiet, please.
40-love.
EVERT: There's your answer, John.
Look at that smile. Watch out, Tom Cavendish.
Can we take another route? Our match is at 3:00.
I doubt it. It's chocka.
(COMMENTATOR CHATTERING ON HEADPHONES)
What's the score, sweetheart?
It's match point.
McENROE: He's done it! Peter Colt has done it again.
Another upset, another seeded player goes down.
And Colt will now take on fifth seed Pierre Maroux
in the Semifinals on Friday.
Congratulations, my friend.
Thank you, but I think my countrymen hate me.
What? I've just destroyed
their best hopes of winning a Championship.
Oh, ridiculous! Everyone loves a winner.
Everybody but the British.
(ALL CLAMORING)
Thank you.
See, I was right. Everything's good, everybody loves you.
Almost everybody.
UMPIRE: 30-all.
PETER: What do you think makes her so extraordinary?
No embarrassment, no fear.
She makes a decision, she goes for it, all pistons firing.
It's a turn-on for the rest of us
'cause most of the time, let's face it, we're all scared shitless.
Even you, Ron?
Me, I hate making a decision.
Like right now?
I'm very, very afraid.
If you don't see that girl again,
it's gonna mess with your head,
it will screw up your confidence.
On the other hand, I'm terrified.
I'm petrified that if I tell you where that girl is camped out,
her father's gonna fire my ass.
Where's the girl camped out, Ron?
32 Kensington Place, first-floor apartment.
I made a decision.
UMPIRE: Game, Miss Bradbury.
Miss Bradbury leads four games to one, final set.
Me, too.
(GRUNTING)
(PANTING)
(DOG GROWLING)
Oh! Shh! No, no. Hi.
(CONTINUES GROWLING) Shh.
Now listen, it's not what you think,
so don't start...
(BARKING)
I'll jump! I'll jump.
I will. You want that on your conscience?
(STOPS BARKING)
Thank you.
(SOFTLY) Lizzie. Lizzie.
Lizzie, it's me.
Shit!
(DOG BARKING)
(GRUNTS)
Hey!
Shut up!
Noisy little shit.
Ow!
That hurt.
Oh, shit!
(GASPS)
Bugger!
Peter!
Yeah.
What are you doing here?
That's an excellent question.
The sad fact of the matter is
I can't seem to get through 24 hours without you.
I've missed you, Peter Peter Colt.
You have?
But I need you to go.
No, you need me to stay.
Peter. Lizzie.
People have fallen in love before, you know.
Oh.
Is that what we're doing here?
Good thing you didn't get the wrong room.
I did. But your dad's a very quick shag.
MAN ON RADIO: Good morning, BBC London, 94.9.
Have you seen enough?
The lark's on the wing and everything's for the best
in this best of all possible worlds.
Because it's Semifinals day.
Which means it can only get better
as Peter Colt stares down the racket of Pierre Maroux.
Come on, can a Brit actually win this title?
Who'd have thought we'd all live so long to even be saying that phrase?
(YAWNING)
(IMITATING TARZAN YELLING)
(SIGHS)
(CONTINUES YELLING)
(CROWD CHEERING)
UMPIRE: Game, Colt.
EVERT: Whoa! Peter Colt must have had his Wheaties this morning.
He's off to a roaring start.
McENROE: But remember, Chrissie, the last time these two met
was the '97 US Open Semis,
a day I'm certain Peter Colt wants to wipe from the memory banks.
No kidding. It was the greatest opportunity of Colt's career.
He was up two sets,
and then he completely choked.
And I don't think he's ever fully recovered from it.
You know, John, choking can be instigated by the smallest thing.
Absolutely.
You wake up in the morning
and something just isn't right.
Maybe a little superstition you have goes wrong
(STRING SNAPS)
and a seed of self-doubt is planted.
MAN: Lizzie!
I love you!
Then, everywhere you look, that feeling of doubt
seems to be looking right back at you.
Once that happens, all it takes is one point,
one decisive point, that can make or break your confidence
and completely determine the outcome of a match.
(GRUNTS)
Game, Miss Rupesindhe.
Advantage, Colt.
Well, there's no choking here today on Number 2 Court.
Peter Colt is firmly in control.
Thank you.
And incredibly, just two points away
from the Wimbledon Final on Sunday,
against America's Jake Hammond.
(CROWD ENCOURAGING)
UMPIRE: Quiet, please.
BARRETT: Oh! That was an almost impossible passing shot.
Match point.
Well, he seems to be having trouble getting up
from that awkward tumble just now.
Peter Colt is clearly in pain.
Shit.
It's hard to tell.
This could spell disaster for the man who's captured the hearts...
Come on, Son, come on.
Come on, pick yourself up, you can do it.
Mr. Colt, are you okay?
Yeah, it's my back.
Can you get up?
Not entirely sure.
One more point, come on.
He can't actually hear you.
Oh, yes, he can.
This is an eerie echo of the Tom Cavendish match, I must say.
Well, he's back on his feet,
but will he be able to play on? Oh, yes, he can.
Well, only he knows how much It's hurting him.
Oh, my God, the stress.
How does he deal with it?
How does who deal with it?
(CROWD CHEERING)
(EXHALES)
(GRUNTS)
(CROWD EXCLAIMING)
PETER: Oh, my back.
My back is killing me.
But remember, you're one point away from the Finals.
McENROE: (ECHOING) I'd love to see an English guy in the Finals,
but give me a break...
PETER: You remember Australia?
Your shoulder was killing you. And what did you do then?
All right, all right, all right!
McENROE: Peter Colt is the luckiest man in tennis.
PETER: This is gonna hurt.
Game, set, match, Colt.
Colt wins, three sets to love.
6-2, 6-1, 6-3. Yes!
I knew he could do it! Oh!
BARRETT: Peter Colt is through to the Finals.
Who would have dreamt, two weeks ago,
that the man time had forgotten, who'd all but retired...
Rabbit. I caught it messing with your lettuce.
Good man.
Congratulations, Peter. Can we just do a quickie?
No, not right now.
(PLAYERS APPLAUDING)
How did she do?
ARLIYIA: Just one of those days where I couldn't do anything wrong
and Lizzie just couldn't do anything right.
CARILLO: That would include accepting defeat,
which Miss Bradbury found very difficult today.
Bugger.
Well, it's not as if she can blame you, is it?
I told you I needed to focus, to be away from you for just a few days!
But no, instead you sneak into my room,
you don't even have the decency to spend the night.
I had the earlier start and I thought you'd want the extra sleep.
I was some chick you picked up.
Well, this chick is going back home to work on her serve.
Listen, I am sorry about your match, I really am.
But please don't go.
Why? Because you need to screw me before the Finals.
Is that what you think? That's why you think I'm here?
It's not? Really, Peter?
Not even just a little bit? (TURNS OFF BLENDER)
A-ha, you see!
I know you want me to think that we're falling in love or some bullshit,
but the only thing you fell in love with this week was winning.
That is absolutely not true. (BLENDER WHIRRING)
Oh, yes, it is.
And you know what? I love winning, too.
More than anything, more than anyone.
(TURNS OFF BLENDER)
Don't say that, you don't mean it.
I do.
Love means nothing in tennis, zero.
It only means you lose.
She's dropping her arm too soon after the toss.
DIETER: You must clear your head. You must forget about her.
Love is shit, just like she said.
Yeah, he's absolutely right.
Just ask my soon-to-be ex-wife.
Ask all my ex-wives.
Thanks for the words of wisdom, Ron.
Shouldn't you be off sucking up to Jake?
Yeah, I took care of that at breakfast.
DIETER: You gave her a taste of her own medicine. So what?
You're the one in the Finals. It's time to move on. Same as she would.
I don't want to move... DOCTOR: Feel that?
Ow! I'll take that as a yes.
Look, I'm not making any promises,
but if you keep relatively still,
you should be in a decent state for the Finals.
RON: Yes! We got it.
Frito Lay! What?
You are the new spokesperson for their brand new chip.
"Surprisingly Zesty," it's called. That's you, pal.
Oh, God, I gotta get out of here.
No. No way. You heard the good doctor.
Let's get you some room service.
I would kill for another dozen of those...
What do you call those little cucumber sandwiches?
Cucumber sandwiches.
You Brits have got a name for everything, huh?
And in other news, the Kuiper Belt Comet, Armstrong-Flynn,
finally disappeared from view today,
after blazing for nearly...
Oh, Jennifer.
(DOG GROWLING)
Yeah, all right. I'm going.
(BARKS)
(WOMAN MOANING)
Oh, for God's sake, Carl.
(WOMAN CONTINUES MOANING)
Carl!
(WOMAN EXCLAIMS)
For God's sake, what...
Didn't I tell you always to knock before entering a room?
Well, it's a bit late now.
You'd better come in and have some breakfast.
What do you want? Eggs and soldiers?
Oh, eggs will be fine.
Sit down.
Morning, son. Where's the Marmite?
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
Well, I'm out of the tree house.
Yeah, you certainly are.
Your mother and I seem to have found some common ground at long last.
Oh, really? What's that?
You, Peter.
You're probably aware that things have been a bit sticky for the last few...
Well, years actually.
The fact is that in the end, the only thing we shared was the downstairs toilet.
And she wasn't really keen on that.
I think what I'm trying to say is that
we'd forgotten just what an inspiration you are to both of us.
That's meant to be the other way around, actually, I know, but...
And how very proud we are of you.
(SIGHS)
It's been a long time since we've done this.
Too bloody long.
Dad...
Hmm?
My back.
Oh, God.
Well, it's been quite a fortnight, hasn't it?
Not just for Peter, but for all of us.
I, for one, will admit, and that's not a word I like very much,
but we could all do better to love and support each other
unconditionally, without judgment, without...
For God's sake, Carl!
Stop biting your fingernails, you're not a bloody infant!
Augusta!
You were saying, darling?
Yes, I'm sorry.
I just wanted to propose a toast.
To the family. Our family.
It's a trick.
Our family. Our family.
Oh, bloody marvelous.
No, darling, we're bad luck.
If we came and you lost, I would never be able to forgive myself.
I don't believe in luck anymore.
Listen,
win or lose, and I can't see how I'm possibly gonna win,
tomorrow will be my last professional tennis match.
And I can't imagine the three of you not being there, so, please.
So what you're saying is Jake's the safe bet then?
Good morning, it's Radio One, it's 7:00. I'm Chris Moyles.
So, today's the day. It's the big Finals.
Peter Colt, what an amazing man.
Who would have thought? I didn't think he was gonna do it.
Now I'm starting to think he could do it.
MAN ON RADIO: Good morning, everyone. BBC London, 94.9.
And it's here, it is Wimbledon Finals day!
I try to be detached, I try to be cool, but I'm carried away.
Come on, Coltie!
Good luck, Mr. Colt.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
(EXHALES)
All the best, Mr. Colt.
Thank you. (ELEVATOR BELL DINGS)
Thanks very much.
(PEOPLE CHEERING)
Thank you.
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
Thanks. Thank you.
Thank you so much.
An Englishman in a Final. Fantastic.
If you can win that Cup, sir, we'd all be so proud.
I'll do my best.
And I don't even like tennis.
CHAUFFEUR: Ready, sir?
Yeah, I think I am.
BARRETT: Peter Colt, seen here in his teens,
has already declared this to be his last competitive match.
And what an exit.
Only a matter of days ago,
Colt had become no more than a fading blip on the radar of tennis history.
Now he's become the man who...
Not to add to the pressure, Peter,
but you know the entire United Kingdom is cheering you on today.
Yes.
Well, let's hope I don't disappoint them.
CARILLO: Did you have any realistic hope two weeks ago,
that you would be here today, preparing to walk on...
Lizzie, I love you more than life itself,
but I can't turn off every goddamn television set in the United Kingdom.
I'm going for a walk.
Flight boards in half an hour.
CARILLO: What do you attribute this remarkable run to?
You were supposed to make a very early exit.
Well, I had a bit of luck against Tom Cavendish in the Quarters.
And I played a more focused game...
...a more passionate game. Uh...
But I suppose the real answer to your question is...
Well, love, really.
Love of the game?
Yeah, love of the game.
Listen, you may have read about Lizzie Bradbury and myself being
involved, so to speak.
I'd like to take this opportunity to set the record straight.
I read the papers this morning,
and they seem to imply that Lizzie had let me down in some way.
That's just not the case.
The truth is I let her down.
I let her down and for that I'll always be truly sorry.
WOMAN ON PA: Would all passengers please have
their boarding passes ready,
as boarding will commence shortly.
Listen, I'm not in the habit of pouring my heart out on television.
Not really in the habit of pouring my heart out at all.
Lizzie, sweetheart, there's something I think you ought to see.
I'm seeing it.
So if this comes out wrong, forgive me.
Lizzie Bradbury. Lizzie is the reason that I'm here today.
That's all I really came here to say, so thank you.
CARILLO: Thank you, Peter.
I have a new theory of our life of tennis.
Tell me.
Well, it's simple, really.
You hit the ball back over the net
as hard and as deep
and as often as possible.
Sorry to disturb you, Peter.
The members have invited you to use the Number 1 dressing room.
Oh, no, thank you, Danny.
I think I'd rather stay here.
Right.
That's what I told them you'd say.
(EXHALES)
Good luck, my friend.
McENROE: In a few minutes, Colt and Hammond will be making the walk
through the tunnel onto Centre Court.
A little stroll, Chrissie, that I'm sure you'd agree
is about the number one highlight of a tennis player's career.
EVERT: Except for the butterflies I always felt, absolutely.
RON: No, he can't just wear the hat.
No, because we don't have an endorsement deal, that's why.
Well, then, he knows the number.
DANNY: Peter?
(SIGHS)
I tried to warn you about her.
By the way, how's the weak back?
It's fine, thanks.
How's the weak mind?
DANNY: Gentlemen.
(CROWD CHEERING)
Fuck a duck.
Jake Hammond has been on an absolute tear.
He's lost only one set this entire tournament.
And look who he's had to beat. Hewitt, Federer.
Well, with the exception of Dragomir and Tom Cavendish,
Colt's road to this Final has been a relative pushover.
McENROE: That's right, but he's played some great tennis.
But my guess here is that he's more than a little overmatched today.
First set. Hammond to serve.
DIETER: Come on, Peter.
(WHISTLES)
I gotta go.
Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
Ready?
Play.
(CROWD EXCLAIMS DISAPPOINTEDLY)
15-love.
Yes, thanks, I'll be needing that.
(ALL LAUGHING)
He said, "Thanks, I'll be needing that."
Quiet, please.
(CROWD EXCLAIMING)
UMPIRE: 30-love.
30-love.
EVERT : That poor kid.
He was on the receiving end of one of the fastest recorded serves
in professional tennis.
144 miles per hour.
McENROE: Well, we certainly hope he's all right.
It reminds me how lucky I was.
Chrissie, I ball-boyed in the old days
when they used wood rackets and things were a lot slower.
PETER: Oh, you bastard.
It's one thing to humiliate me,
but you didn't have to mess with the boy.
Now you're going down, you bastard.
Oh!
Or maybe not.
UMPIRE: Colt to serve.
Love-15.
Love-40.
Game, Hammond.
40-love.
Game and first set, Hammond.
30-love.
Game, Hammond.
New balls, please.
Love-15.
Hammond leads, five games to two.
Game, Hammond.
Love-30.
15-30.
(CROWD EXCLAIMING)
15-40.
EVERT: Peter Colt finds himself once again at break point.
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
He really can't afford to go down another break this early in the third set.
He seems completely lost out there, John.
McENROE: Lost and confused.
We may be witnessing the near total collapse of a player's game.
At a moment like this, Chrissie, you have to wonder,
what the hell is going through Peter Colt's mind?
PETER: Please, God, please make it end.
Game, Hammond. Play suspended.
What are you doing, lad? Get in here!
It ain't over till the handshake, lad.
You know what, Danny, I'm not really in the mood for a pep talk right now.
Well, you better get ready for one.
Hi.
I thought you'd gone.
Yeah. Me, too.
Having a tough day?
Well, you know. Disastrous.
Except for the fact that you didn't go gooey when the ball boy got hit.
Yeah.
Sorry.
Why are you British apologizing all the time?
Don't apologize to me, I love you.
Apologize to the people who are rooting for you out there.
What did you say?
I said that the whole country has been waiting...
No, no, the other bit.
I said I love you.
See, that's very good news.
I thought I was alone in the love department.
Well, it turns out you've got company.
I am so sorry.
If you say sorry one more time,
you're gonna be sorry. I meant about the other night.
Shh! Stop it.
Forget about that.
This is about you.
Go out there and decide who you are.
And who might that be?
That might be a winner.
Please be patient, Mr. Hammond. Please sit down.
BARRETT: The question is, where's Peter Colt?
Did he flee the building with the rain?
I think he's in the lavatory.
Isn't that a comfort break?
Is it? Yes. They are allowed one.
Perhaps he's got a gippy tummy.
So, if he doesn't come back...
He's gonna lose.
Of course I wanna win, I do.
But he's just better than me.
No, he's not.
Two sets down, my back is killing me.
You'll play through the pain.
I'm too tired. My legs are like lead.
Find a second wind. It's what winners do.
His serve is unstoppable.
No, it's not, it's a bundle of tells.
What?
His serve, it's like a book, you just have to know how to read it.
I really don't care who wins. I mean, I represent both players.
It's like asking me which one of my kids I love more.
Which one of my kids do I love more?
(CROWD CHEERING)
My daughter. I'll talk to you later.
McENROE: Well, Peter Colt is back. Let's hope he's better.
So far, this match has been a blowout.
Yeah, Pete! Peter!
Ladies and gentlemen, as play resumes,
Hammond leads two sets to love and one game to love.
Hammond to serve.
Play.
LIZZIE: If he bounces the ball once, instead of twice,
he's going for the body.
If he shifts back on his left heel and shows you his toe,
it means he's hitting deep.
McENROE: Colt sure seemed to have Hammond's number on that one, Chrissie,
which is a good sign if he's going to climb out of the giant hole
he's dug himself.
Ouch! Are you all right?
Yes.
Welcome back.
Same to you, sir.
Station ident ready to roll.
Eight.
Top of your shot, we got a visitor.
John, did you see who just came in?
McENROE: That will give an immediate adrenaline burst.
Yes! Whoo!
He did it, Chrissie, he pulled out the set.
Oh!
Yes!
(CROWD EXCLAIMS)
EVERT: After a great comeback in the third set,
Colt's game has leveled
and he and Jake Hammond are even at 5-all in this tiebreak.
So, John, this next point is crucial
if Colt wants to keep this comeback alive. Come on, Peter!
McENROE: Okay, 5-5 in the breaker.
Here we go.
(CROWD EXCLAIMS)
UMPIRE: 6-5, Hammond.
McENROE: Jake Hammond is up 6-5 in the tiebreaker
and has finally gotten himself a Championship point.
This could be the final point of Peter Colt's pro career
right here, right now.
UMPIRE: Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
McENROE: This could be it, Chrissie.
PETER: If his heel moves left, he's going right.
Or is it the toss? Yes, if he tosses high, it...
Oh, sod it!
UMPIRE: 6-all.
McENROE: Incredible point.
I'm doing a complete 180 on Peter Colt.
This is amazing persistence from the journeyman player.
I was already thinking about getting to the airport.
We may be going to a fifth set.
If I was Jake Hammond, I'd want to close this thing out right now.
The last thing he wants is another set
with the momentum going in the other direction.
Okay, first one to win by two.
(CROWD ENCOURAGING)
UMPIRE: Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
(CROWD EXCLAIMS)
7-6, Colt.
McENROE: Wow, a double fault.
Now it looks like Hammond is the one who's getting tight.
Peter Colt now has set point to force a fifth and deciding set.
(CELL PHONE RINGING)
Oh! Give us a goddamn break!
(PHONE CONTINUES RINGING)
UMPIRE: Please. Switch off all mobile phones. Thank you.
Yeah?
(CROWD CHEERING)
McENROE: Unbelievable! We're gonna play five!
Yes!
Peter Colt...
(MAN SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE)
After a disastrous start, Peter Colt has battled back...
(ALL CHATTERING)
UMPIRE: Game, Colt.
Peter Colt.
UMPIRE: Game, Colt.
Colt leads, five games to four.
Final set.
EVERT: Well, Colt has broken Jake Hammond.
And after this changeover, he's gonna be serving for the Wimbledon title.
McENROE: Listen, an hour ago, I didn't think
he'd find anybody to give him a ride home.
No question, John. And now it's all up to him.
I mean, he's finally got a chance to serve out the match.
UMPIRE: Time.
Break you right back, asshole.
McENROE: Did you see that?
That is some definite gamesmanship from Jake Hammond.
Come on, Peter.
UMPIRE: 15-love.
Come on!
EVERT : Peter Colt is now three points away from winning Wimbledon.
PETER: One point at a time, Peter. One point at a time.
It's just another point, it's just another point.
Like hell it is!
You could be the champion of Wimbledon.
Which means you wouldn't have to take the pro job, for starters.
You could buy a new place, redecorate.
Lizzie could help with that.
God knows what taste she has.
Oh, shut up, you silly ponce!
UMPIRE: 30-love.
McENROE: Make that two points away, Chrissie.
UMPIRE: Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
PETER: Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Come on, Pete.
(CROWD EXCLAIMING)
UMPIRE: 30-15.
MAN: You've got him, Jake.
McENROE: Chrissie, we talked about
Colt's reputation in the past as a choker when it comes to big points.
Well this is primo choke time.
I wouldn't be surprised if Colt got real tight now.
Thank you. It's my fault.
PETER: Don't choke. Don't choke. Don't choke. Don't choke.
Please don't choke. Please don't choke. Don't choke.
I'm not gonna choke, damn it.
UMPIRE: 40-15.
Peter!
McENROE: Can you believe it?
Peter Colt is serving at Championship point.
UMPIRE: Quiet, please.
Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
PETER: Championship point.
Right then.
Out!
UMPIRE: 40-30. EVERT: I don't believe it!
That was a terrible call for Colt. No!
What the hell?
What?
Look at the chalk fly, the ball was definitely in.
It was on the line!
I'd be torching the stadium about now.
Excuse me. The ball was good.
UMPIRE: 40-30.
Oh, come on, the ball was good, chalk flew up.
The whole stadium saw it.
I don't know if you've noticed,
but it's quite an important point.
That's too close for me to overrule.
Please resume play.
Absolutely not. I'm not playing on. It's complete bollocks!
Absolutely bollocks!
UMPIRE: Code violation. It was in!
Unsportsmanlike conduct. Warning, Mr. Colt.
CROWD: (CHANTING) In! In! In!
Oh, my...
In! In! In!
EVERT: Okay, here we go.
Peter Colt has a second chance now to win the Championship.
McENROE: The question is, can he do it?
After a call like that, a lot of players, Including yours truly,
would have a hard time getting back in the mindset.
Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please.
(CROWD EXCLAIMING)
EVERT: That serve wasn't even close.
McENROE: And it wasn't fast either.
AUGUSTA: ...believe you to be a truly great tennis player.
EDWARD: I'm totally disappointed.
PETER: Stop it. Stop it.
You have to stop it.
Now.
(HEARTBEAT ECHOING)
(CROWD INAUDIBLE)
(CROWD CHEERING) Yes!
McENROE: He's done it! He has done it!
The journeyman has won! A wild card entry.
Ranked 119th in the world. Now Champion of Wimbledon!
(CROWD CHEERING LOUDLY)
Call Letterman, call Leno, call Oprah, call Kimmel.
There you go. Thank you.
McENROE: It's utter pandemonium here.
I've never seen anything like this in my life.
The Brits finally have a winner.
What's wrong with you? You bet on Jake?
I put it all on you, bro.
Can I retire now, Mum?
Certainly not! Augusta!
Well done, Son.
I love you.
EVERT: He seems to be looking for somebody else.
McENROE: I think the whole world knows who he's looking for.
There's so much I wanna say to you.
I'm not going anywhere.
Oh, yes, you are.
You're going a long, long way.
PETER: Nothing could possibly match that moment.
It's everything you wait a lifetime for.
That dream, finally come true.
What else could ever come close?
Except this, maybe.
I did take a job at a club.
But teaching young kids like my own, not old ladies.
(EXCLAIMS) And I love it.
I beat you! I beat you!
Rubbish! The ball was in, it was... Ow!
Well, most of the time.
You see, a part of me was always afraid that my life would be over
if I wasn't playing tennis.
But the truth is,
it was really just beginning.
Oh, and by the way, Lizzie did win the US Open and Wimbledon.
Twice.