Just above her right elbow, Markéta Vondroušová has tattooed the words: “No rain, no flowers.” There has been plenty of rain at Wimbledon this past fortnight and, appropriately, the 24-year-old Czech tennis player has blossomed into the most sensational form of her life.
She arrived at the tournament having only ever won four matches on grass, a surface she called “impossible”; now she is Wimbledon women’s singles champion, the first unseeded player to win the title.
To say no one saw Vondroušová’s run coming would be quite the understatement – never mind her comprehensive 6-4, 6-4 victory against the red-hot favourite Ons Jabeur, the No 6 seed from Tunisia, on Saturday afternoon under the Centre Court roof.
Vondroušová defied the fact that almost no one in a stadium of 15,000 people wanted her to win. After she nervelessly put away a lunging volley winner on her second match point, she collapsed to the turf. She stood up long enough to embrace Jabeur, then sank to her knees again in disbelief.
“I don’t really know what’s happening,” said Vondroušová on court, after being presented with the Venus Rosewater dish by the Princess of Wales. “It’s amazing that I can stand here and hold this. Tennis is crazy.”
She’s not wrong. It’s common to talk about surprises in the sporting world, so we should take a moment to appreciate how unlikely Vondroušová’s win was. By her ranking, 42, she was only the seventh-best player from the Czech Republic, a country of not quite 11 million people. She was dropped by her sponsor Nike early this year, when she seemed to be slipping from the top 100 after two surgeries on her left wrist, and she played Wimbledon in unbranded clothing (her outfit for the final seemed to come from Lululemon).
Vondroušová’s joy contrasted with Jabeur’s abject dejection. This was the third grand slam final the 28-year-old Tunisian has lost, and her second successive Wimbledon, having been beaten by Elena Rybakina last year. Once again, Jabeur was bidding to become the first Arab or African woman to win a grand slam singles title, and it was hard not to feel that nerves played a significant part in her defeat. “This is very, very tough,” said Jabeur on court, trying – and failing – to stop the tears. “I’m going to look ugly in the photos, so that’s not going to help. I think this is the most painful loss of my career.”
At last year’s Wimbledon, Jabeur had a photo of the Venus Rosewater dish as her iPhone lockscreen. This time round, she hinted there was a trophy on the screen once again, but she would only say which after the final. On Saturday, she admitted that she had actually had a photo of her niece and nephew, “because the trophy didn’t work last year”. Jabeur said: “It’s going to be a tough day for me. But I’m not going to give up. I’m going to come back stronger and win a grand slam one day.”
There’s clearly something of the disruptor about Vondroušová. At the Tokyo Olympics in 2021 she knocked out Naomi Osaka of Japan, the face of the Games, before winning the silver medal. This week, in the semi-final, she beat Elina Svitolina of Ukraine, who had become a crowd darling and was making an emotional return to tennis as a parent, representing her country and new mothers.
How much we will come to learn about Vondroušová is unclear. She says she dislikes publicity and that she is happiest in her small circle – including her husband, Stepan Simek, an IT manager – at home in Prague. A significant part of every post-match interview has focused on her cat, a funny-looking sphynx called Frankie. Simek has been at home with Frankie for most of the tournament, but fortunately they found a cat sitter so he could attend the final.
Then there are the tattoos, so numerous that even Vondroušová has lost count. They include cherubs, fairies, dice, flowers and homilies such as “One day at a time”. She said she planned to add a new one – design as yet undecided.
Apparently she also made an agreement with her coach, Jan Mertl, that if she won Wimbledon he would have to get a tattoo as well. Evidently, Mertl thought Vondroušová’s success as unlikely as everyone else.