A new superstition has developed at Wimbledon. After a few problems in the first week, I realized that each night on the walk home I saw one fox. ONE FOX BAD. On a day where things went relatively well, I saw two foxes on the walk home. TWO FOX GOOD. On yet another night's walk home, I raised the question to Glyn "what if we see three foxes?" THREE FOX F***ED!