The first player ever disqualified from Wimbledon - and their identity might surprise you

It's been an integral part of British summertime for as long as any of us can remember. For two weeks a year, the country becomes captivated by the magic of Wimbledon - the sound of tennis balls on racquets, the glory of the Centre Court, umpires reminding the boisterous crowd "time, please" and, yes, those strawberries and cream.

The crowd's Great British hope is sure to be cheered to the rooftops, although more often than not, their run ends in traditional heartbreak. But with wildcards typically outperforming their odds on court and favourites wilting under the pressure, there's hardly ever a shortage of upsets. Of course, there have also been moments during the tournament's 148-year existence when players have displayed their more ferocious side, and there are bound to be moments of high drama - and possibly explosions of pent-up rage - this year.

Most surprisingly, one of the best-loved stars of recent times became the first player ever to be disqualified. And, no, it wasn't John McEnroe, Ilie Nastase or Nick Kyrgios - despite their occasional tantrums and meltdowns - or the occasionally volatile Serena Williams. Step forward Mr Whiter-Than-White Tim Henman! Incredible as it might sound, the first player ever to be disqualified from Wimbledon was Henman.

That's the very same Tim Henman whose clipped tones have for many years graced the BBC's television commentary from the Championships, and who now sits on the board of the All England Lawn Tennis Club, the organisation which runs the tournament.

His day of shame was Wednesday, June 28, 1995 - the place, Court 14. In the first round of the men's doubles competition, Henman, aged 20 at the time and partnering fellow Brit Jeremy Bates, had been drawn against the American Jeff Tarango and Henrik Holm of Sweden.

After three hours of play, with the British pair leading 2-1 in sets and the score delicately poised at 6-6 in the fourth, Henman made an error, which prompted him to pick up a loose ball and fire it in frustration towards the green canvas screens hanging at the rear of the court. Poor Caroline Hall, a 16-year-old ball girl, never stood a chance. The ball struck her in the head, sending the teenager tumbling to the turf in pain, shock and tears.

Straight away, umpire Wayne McKewan radioed for Alan Mills, the tournament referee, to come to the court. There followed a prolonged conversation during which Henman, supported by Bates, tried pleading his case about what had just happened.

Mills was having none of it. "You're responsible for this as well," countered the official. "You hit the ball, and you hit the ball in anger. I mean that's the whole thing. You hit the ball in anger."

McKewan then took to his on-court microphone to inform the crowd that there had been a code violation for unsportsmanlike conduct, and the match was being defaulted. The word "disqualified" didn't actually pass his lips, but that's exactly what had happened to Henman and Bates. Amid a chorus of boos from spectators, the umpire climbed down from his chair and the players exited the court, with Bates placing a conciliatory hand on Henman's shoulder.

"I didn't actually see the ball strike the ball girl, but I heard it," says tennis fan Alison Phillips who was in the crowd that day. "It was one of those moments where you knew something serious had just happened, but you're not quite sure what. I remember all the players coming to the net and there being this discussion, I presume about whether or not Henman should be disqualified.

"The man sitting next to us in the crowd had seen everything and I recall him saying 'That's got to be an automatic disqualification'. Even so, it was still a shock when the umpire made his announcement."

Forced to face the music at a hastily arranged press conference, Henman appeared close to tears in front of the media. "I was not happy at losing the point and was angry," he said. "I went to hit the ball hard. I'd looked to see if the linespeople were out of the way. It's a complete accident, but I'm responsible for my actions."

Needless to say, the newspapers had a field day. "Bad boy Tim" screamed one headline, while another labelled him a "disgraced tennis brat". "I remember coming in (to Wimbledon) the next day and it was as if I'd murdered someone," Henman would recall years later of his public humiliation.

All of which begs another question - why didn't this ignominious sporting moment enter the public consciousness in the same way that, say, Ben Johnson's disqualification did following his positive drugs test after winning the 100 metres final at the 1988 Seoul Olympics? In response to that, there are two answers. One, in 1995 Tim Henman had no public profile. Over the years that followed, he would establish himself as Britain's top male tennis player, reaching no less than four Wimbledon semi-finals without ever managing to win the thing.

He even got a hill named after him at the All England Club, such was his popularity. But 30 years ago, he was merely another up-and-coming hopeful. Also, just three days later, on Court 13, Jeff Tarango, one of Henman's doubles opponents, also managed to get himself disqualified, this time from the men's singles competition. And unlike Henman's, Tarango's disqualification was shown on television.

Tarango - not to mention his wife - flew into the kind of rage to leave McEnroe blushing. Facing the German player Alexander Mronz in the third round, Tarango lost the first set 7-6 before having a serve called out by umpire Bruno Rebeuh - a serve which he believed was an ace. Words were exchanged between the fiery Californian and Frenchman Rebeuh which prompted slow handclaps and jeers from the crowd. Tarango told them to "shut up" and was given a warning for his troubles.

"How come they can say whatever they want to me?" roared Tarango in response. "Can you call the supervisor please? I havea big beef." Along came the supervisor, who upheld the warning. At which point, Tarango turned on Rebeuh, calling him "the most corrupt official in the game".

Rebeuh responded by issuing a point penalty against Tarango, who threw down the two tennis balls in his possession before shouting "No way! That's it!" And off the court he stropped. To cap it all, Tarango's wife, Benedicte, slapped Rebeuh in the face as he made his way back to the umpire's office.

This time, the press let Tarango have both barrels, as opposed to the mere flak received by Henman. "Last Tarango in SW19 as official is attacked," declared The Guardian. "That guy needs help," one American sports writer was heard to say. Besides being disqualified, Tarango was provisionally banned from the next Grand Slam event on the tennis calendar, together with the following year's Wimbledon, while also being conditionally fined £10,000. Almost overnight, amid the furore, Henman's disqualification was all but forgotten.

To be fair, Henman exhibited class, not to mention manners, in the immediate wake of his shaming. Besides making a public apology, he also bought Caroline Hall a bouquet of flowers, delivered in person with a peck on the cheek.

"It was a complete accident," said Hall at the time. "I was unlucky, as was Tim. He has said sorry but I had already forgiven him. I know he didn't mean to hit me."

Nevertheless, the All England Club still fined Henman £1,910 for his actions, a considerable sum in 1995 when the prize money for playing at Wimbledon was a fraction of what it is now. Today, as a board member of the All England Club, Henman is part of the process that sits in judgment over how Wimbledon is run.

Three decades on, you could argue that Henman's disqualification from Wimbledon - which prompted The Sun to declare "he hit it so hard it could have killed her" - was in fact the making of him.

As Henman himself once admitted, "I remember reading that and thinking two things - I'll never, ever read the newspapers again while I am a professional tennis player, and, secondly, I thought I better have some decent results otherwise this is going to be what I am remembered for."