Wimbledon 1997: That's entertainment: Six who have imposed their personality on the Championships

Jimmy Connors

Unlike some of these, Connors squeezed every last drop from the natural gifts with which he was blessed. Indeed, it was the street-fighter spirit of scrapping for every point and every cause - more often than not salvaging the seemingly lost - that so endeared the slugging southpaw to the public. When Connors delivered his exaggerated arm-pump gesture after a hard-won point he pumped up the gallery as well as his personal adrenalin level. It took him to the highs of eight Grand Slam singles titles, including two Wimbledons eight years apart - against Ken Rosewall in 1974 and John McEnroe in 1982. Yet he is most fondly remembered at SW19 for the one-liner he delivered on the brink of the shock defeat he suffered against Arthur Ashe in the 1975 final. "Come on Jimbo!" urged one Centre Courtier. "I'm trying for Chrissakes!"

Pancho Gonzales

GONZALES was 41 and a grandfather when he performed his memorable villain-turned-hero tour de force at Wimbledon. He was booed and hissed as he stalked off court in a fury after his first-round match with Charlie Pasarell was belatedly halted by bad light in 1969. Gonzales had played the second set under petulant protest, hurling his racket and screaming out: "How the hell can I play when I can't see?" The Centre Court had not seen a performance like it. And it has seen nothing like the epic that developed when the brooding genius produced his brilliant best the next day. He recovered from two sets down, saved seven match points, and beat a man 16 years his junior 22-24, 1-6, 16-14, 6-3, 11-9. The 112-game marathon lasted a record five hours and 12 minutes; Gonzales walked off to a standing ovation.

John McEnroe

HE and his apologists always insisted he was a soul misunderstood. After the spectacular human eruption that spilled bile around Queen's Club in 1981, McEnroe maintained that his riposte to umpire Edward James was, "You guys are the pits of the world" - rather than "the piss of world", as the Scottish official recorded in his report. Then there was the tirade inflicted on George Grime at Wimbledon three weeks later. McEnroe swore he was addressing himself when he shrieked: "You're a disgrace to mankind." If that was indeed so, then it was a fair appraisal. McEnroe's behaviour was such a disgrace, at times, that the sublime talent that earned him three Wimbledon titles and four US Opens seemed of incidental import. The default he suffered at the Australian Open in 1990 was a belated shutting of the stable door.

Ilie Nastase

THERE was an unmistakable nasty streak in the Romanian who not so much illuminated as dazzled the world tennis circuit in the early 1970s. Nastase abused officials, mocked opponents and turned on any member of the paying public who dared to bait him. He was a natural clown too, though. It was at Wimbledon that Nasty borrowed a spectator's umbrella and held it aloft as he prepared to receive service in the rain. Then there was the time he peered inside the electronic line monitor and wagged a disapproving finger. And only Nastase could have dared to blacken his face, arms, and legs before partnering Arthur Ashe in a doubles match in Louisville. Unfortunately, the entertainer in him was more dominant than the competitor; his personal honours list features just two Grand Slam titles (the US Open in 1972 and the French Open in 1973).

John Newcombe

THE NEPHEW of Warren Bardsley, the first Australian to score centuries in both innings of an Ashes Test (at The Oval in 1909), Newcombe had his own way of hitting the crowds for six at Wimbledon. He did it with a charm offensive. Even the drooping moustache could not hide the infectious grin which accompanied the Tarzan-style chest-beating, the delivery of the impish one-liners and the odd peck on the cheek of a female line judge. When he won the second of his three Wimbledon singles titles, in 1970, he played through the tournament with an injured arm. He had to take painkillers before every game but kept his stricken plight to himself and beat Ken Rosewall in a five-setter in the final. He was the last of a line of great Australians, following on from Rosewall, Rod Laver, Roy Emerson and Fred Stolle.

Jeff Tarango

THE LAST scene by Tarango in Paris was as show-stealing as the last at Wimbledon. At least the Californian remained on court to play out his second-round defeat against Thomas Muster at this year's French Open. But Muster refused to shake hands after Tarango mimicked the Austrian's gait and complained about his grunting. Two years ago Tarango sulked into Wimbledon history by walking off court and refusing to complete a third- round contest with Alexander Mronz. His wife, Benedicte, slapped the umpire, Bruno Rebeuh, and then followed her husband into the interview room. The affair cost Tarango his prize money, pounds 17,500, and a one-year ban but he is back for this year's tournament. He happens to be a left-hander and a former student of Stanford University. So was John McEnroe.