WHAT a disappointing dampener to two fabulous weeks of Wimbledon - for me anyway, not for those lucky people who were able to stay at home to watch the amazing men's final on Monday.

I was sick as a chip that I was stuck in the office while the match of the tournament was being played in front of a proper, appreciative People's Crowd.

I tried to avoid the result until the replay in the evening, but just my luck, walked past a telly shop in Bradshawgate just as Goran was celebrating victory.

Of course it spoiled the highlights of the amazing match for me, but I still found it fraught, even though I knew the outcome.

To see the match live must have been a nail-biting experience. Neither player deserved to lose.

It just shows that dreams can come true if you wait long enough. For Ivanisevic, thought to be at the end of his career, it was all his rolled together into one.

I don't know whether it was the power of his well-publicised faith, or his own grim determination which gave him the title - or just fate.

Whichever it was, if he could bottle it and sell it, he'd make another fortune. I'd like a drop.

And for Tim Henman, his destiny will be to win in the Queen's golden jubilee year, just like Virginia Wade did in silver jubilee year.