Kate’s Wimbledon appearance alongside Roger Federer reveals terrible truth

Kate Middleton found herself alongside a different, more popular type of royalty at Wimbledon. In the long run, she’ll still win.

We saw two different types of royalty at Wimbledon today.

The first was represented by Catherine, Princess of Wales, who earned her position by marrying the eldest grandson of Queen Elizabeth II, who’d earned her position by being the daughter of King George VI, who’d stumbled unwillingly into his position because his Nazi sympathiser brother fell madly in love with a divorced American, and so forth.

The other was embodied by Roger Federer, who won his place alongside Kate in the Royal Box by claiming a record eight men’s Wimbledon titles and being one of the most celebrated tennis talents in history.

You can see the difference, yes? One is hereditary, the other meritocratic.

Kate Middleton and Roger Federer in the Royal Box at Wimbledon today. Picture: Clive Brunskill/Getty Images

This is not a comment on Kate as a human being, but the system whose apex she occupies.

Wimbledon is an interesting reflection of British society, with all its posh idiosyncrasies. It can be almost otherworldly in its charm, and comfort, and bewitching beauty, with the ivy-clad arenas, and strawberries, and aristocrats strutting around in their finery. Where the Australian Open bakes in near-40 degree heat, here the breeze is cool and soothing.

But it’s also weirdly archaic. To get a grounds pass at Wimbledon, you join The Queue – yes, it’s capitalised – which is described on the tournament’s own website as being “as much a part of the Wimbledon experience as the tennis itself”.

Thousands of people line up, many before dawn, a committed few literally a day earlier, in the hope that they will manage to get in. But there’s no guarantee. Wimbledon employs staff to roam down the line at 6am and wake the people who’ve camped overnight, a farcically obvious example of treating a symptom instead of its cause.

And this is seen as good! As a cute tradition! They’re proud of it! Sitting in the cold at four in the morning, shivering, miserable, is “as much a part of the experience as the tennis itself”. What? Why can’t Britain sell its tickets online, like a normal country, and spare these spectators their hours of unnecessary torment?

Because this place is addicted to tradition, even, or perhaps especially, when it no longer makes any sense. Hence the monarchy, under whose sagging modern standards Kate and her husband are hailed as exemplars of all that is good, simply because they manage not to behave like weirdos in public.

Kate at Wimbledon. Picture: Hannah McKay/Getty Images

Most of the poor sods who’d sacrificed an irretrievable chunk of their lives to obtain tickets today saw virtually no tennis, as match after match was cancelled by rain. They could strive for little better than a mud-soaked backside from lounging on The Hill.

At times the deluge was so heavy, and so loud on the roof of Centre Court, that the action unfolding under Kate and Roger’s gaze was barely audible.

Not so the roar that greeted Federer when he first stepped into the Royal Box. His standing ovation lasted the better part of two minutes, dwarfing the lukewarm cheers the Princess had enjoyed a few minutes earlier.

Look, this is a crowd of tennis fans. If we sent Kate and Roger to the annual monarchist convention, hosted by Lord Chisleworth at Breckenridge Manor, she would probably get the better reception. But there are few events as quintessentially British as Wimbledon, and it is notable that fans registered her presence without excessive excitement.

Federer absorbs his ovation. Kate and his wife, Mirka, joined in. Picture: Adrian Dennis/AFP

Federer is himself something of a contradiction. Since the early days, pre-Nadal, when he was close to uncontested at the summit of men’s tennis, he has shrouded his modesty in an almost regal aesthetic. The white and gold colour schemes, the immaculate lettering on his gear, the impetuousness of his groundstrokes against an outmatched opponent. It never quite strayed into arrogance, but he did flirt with the boundary line.

And the two of them did make a royal pair today. The box on Centre Court stands out rather more than its equivalent in Melbourne, partly due to the way it’s framed, but also because of its occupants. You can imagine a similar vibe in the Roman Coliseum, whenever the emperor decided to attend. Here are Kate and Roger, gracing us with their presence, sitting in the stands like mere mortals, enjoying the entertainment of the masses.

“I love you Rogeeeeer,” screamed one mildly inebriated fan during Andy Murray’s match, late in the afternoon. There was no acknowledgment from the box. Throughout the day it became apparent that Kate is something of a late clapper – the crowd will have been going for a second or two before she deigns to bring her hands together.

Yes, I know, small details that amount to nothing of any real consequence. But it added to the impression that this was their court, the surrounding people their subjects, paying homage.

And these were just the lucky ones. The peasants were stuck outside in the rain, someone else’s concern. I suppose, in this scenario, I’m some sort of execrable and mutinous scribe, writing poison from the wings.

The Princess of Wales and the Prince of Wimbledon have been friends for ages; there’s no pitting them against each other. But I found myself pondering what will happen 30 years from now.

Federer will have faded, beloved by my generation but a relic to those who never saw him play. Kate will be queen, and barring any constitutional change, married to our head of state. Her son, now a child, will follow his father as king.

Hereditary royalty wins. Based on what? Blood, and little more, while talent is forgotten.

Twitter: @SamClench

Originally published as Kate’s Wimbledon appearance alongside Roger Federer reveals terrible truth