WIMBLEDON, England - They handed Tim Henman a torch Saturday. Which, come to think of it, wasn't all that different from past British summers.
An Olympic torch or a nation's dreams?
Really, now, what's the difference?
The Olympic flame given to Henman outside Centre Court on Saturday morning was making its first appearance in London since 1948. Which means it hasn't been missing nearly as long as the other torch he is usually asked to carry.
You recognize Henman, of course. He is the face of British tennis. He is also the scraped elbow, skinned knee and broken heart.
It has been 68 years since England produced a men's champion at this neighborhood event. Heck, it's been 66 years since one reached the finals.
You would think, by now, if it hadn't happened by design it would have come by chance. After all, Yugoslavia has had a men's champion. So have the Netherlands, Peru and Switzerland. Not to rub it in, but even Newark has had a Wimbledon champion of its very own.
It is only here, in a place where faith dies hard, that they continue to wait for the champion no one else believes is in sight.
Naturally, this makes Henman the most popular man in the country this morning. And should he lose to Hicham Arazi on Centre Court this afternoon, he will be among the most slandered.
It's a little game the Brits like to play. It involves outrageous expectations, a modicum of talent and a predictable result.
They groom Henman for greatness even when they recognize his shoulders appear too narrow for the illustration.
Never has it been more apparent than this weekend. A nation slapped senseless by a soccer result has turned to Henman for balance.
England was in the quarterfinals of Euro 2004 against Portugal Thursday night when a controversial referee's decision disallowed the potential winning goal in the final minute. England eventually lost on penalty kicks.
What followed could only be described as hysteria. Or maybe hysterical. Newspapers ran photos of Portugal's goaltender being groped by a British player on the disallowed goal. And this was their evidence that the Swiss referee was a fool or a cheater. Or, if it was a tabloid, both.
The Sun was the most creative offender, reaching the estranged wife of the referee for a story. Headline? "Ref Cheated on Me Like He Cheated on England."
To their credit the British papers did not devote every inch of newsprint to the soccer loss. They reserved space to remind Henman he was the last hope between happiness and a dismal summer.
"Yeah, pile it on," Henman said, smiling. "Bring it on."
It is a job he has never applied for, but is continually handed. Including Saturday, rain has washed out two of the first six days of Wimbledon and, already, Henman is the last British player, man or woman, standing.
Today's scene will be familiar. The painted faces Henman will see in the bleachers. The flags waving on the way into Centre Court.
The thousands of fans who could not get courtside tickets settling in front of the giant TV screen on the north end of the grounds in an area that has come to be known as Henman's Hill.
And, deep down, they all must know it eventually will end in disappointment.
Henman is, no doubt, a dandy little player. A fine filler of the field. Before last year he had finished in the top 10 in the rankings three consecutive seasons. He has earned nearly $10-million in his career.
But when it comes to Grand Slams, he is a couple runners short of having the bases loaded. Thirty-six times he has entered one of tennis' marquee events, and 36 times he has watched the finals from afar.
It's just that at Wimbledon he can't help teasing. He has advanced to the quarterfinals seven times. Four times he has made it to the semis.
Before this year's first match, Henman acknowledged that many of his countrymen will consider his career a failure should he not win at Wimbledon.
It is a concept he has struggled with in the past but has recently accepted. At 29 he is married and a father. Priorities have changed, and his outlook has softened.
The Wimbledon crowd can still stir him, such as Friday's match when he fell behind Ivo Heuberger, but it no longer has the potential to overwhelm him.
Even if he is being asked to remedy a country's sorrow.
"It's twofold, isn't it?" Henman said. "You could say that the support can now be greater, if that's possible. On the other side of the coin, if (the soccer team) were to keep winning, then perhaps the spotlight would have been elsewhere to a certain extent.
"The bottom line is, it's going to be dictated by the way I play. That's certainly the thing I'll be concentrating on."
