At last! I have waited my entire life to see a Brit win a tennis Grand Slam tournament, but throughout that time British tennis has, with a few notable exceptions in the women's game languished in the doldrums. Even today, our Davis Cup team lurks among the lowest ranked countries in the world.
But last night all that changed. Andy Murray came through against Novak Djokavic in what was apparently (I admit it, I didn't stay up half the night to watch it, something I may regret to my dying day) an epic struggle. Murray having secured a 2 sets to love lead, saw that lead nullified by a ferociously determined opponent, then came through in a final set of truly heroic stature.
But, you might say, he did beat Djoki in the Olympic final, but I say that was very different. The Olympic final was fought out over three brief sets, and with a crowd delirious with Olympic fever. How could he lose? But the US Open is another matter entirely. All Murray's gold medal proved was that he COULD beat his Serbian friend.
But Andy, you and I know there is one final goal for you, one goal for which the nation has yearned since my own father was a young man: winning Wimbledon itself. Murray has said he likes the surface at Flushing Meadows, which implies he is not totally at home on the grassy sward of the Centre Court. But the mark of a truly great player is the ability to adapt to all surfaces. And somehow, for me to be able to die a truly contented man, he must adapt too. By his stunning victory last night, Andy has shown himself to be the greatest British player of the modern era. But Andy, we need just one more big win- and you know where we need it to happen.
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