timeThe first time I met Andrew Murray, he was playing tennis with his feet in a low-key leisure centre. Left foot, right foot, high, low, left, right; nothing is beyond His control, the world is at His feet. Luxembourg, of all places. A 16-year-old Scot who was making waves in the junior ranks was invited by then-Davis Cup captain Jeremy Bates, mainly to get advice from Tim Henman and Greg Ruseski, but As it turns out, it’s also about getting them to work in training.
Murray, desperate to transcend the role of sparring partner, showed off his devastating potential with a set that destroyed Ruseski’s serve/volley game. Murray is clearly a shrewd thinker, but he keeps giving up returns on weak backhand short shots, trapping a tired Ruseski and driving him to despair.
Given the chance to chat, an important question was: “Andrew or Andy?” “Of course Andy,” he replied. I sent an email to BBC Sport in the hope that a few respectable people would read it. I suspect we will be mentioning this name many times over the years.
Murray attracted criticism last September when he turned down a similar offer ahead of the Morocco game. But Murray, world number 785, was far from being snubbed and skipped the competitive Futures Tour, replacing Casablanca for Glasgow, where a $10,000 tournament for adults suddenly featured a 16-year-old local champion. ruthless.
In late 2004, the streak was repeated again. for important achievements. The day before, he won the Futures Championship again on Spanish clay, his third title of the season. Then it was on to London – presenting awards on live television, having a self-inciting chat with Sir Clive Woodward at the after-party – before returning to Spain, back on clay, winning five more matches and another Three set final.
When most opponents’ seasons end (with a night in London in between), these back-to-back titles mean more than the US Open or the BBC Gong.
We’ve seen enough. Talent and desire, edge and anxiety, what an exciting time it was. How good can he be? This is a big problem.
At Wimbledon 2005, the brilliant Tony Adamson fully assumed the role of Nostradamus as Murray, on debut, defeated George Barber on Court Two. George Bastl. In front of the microphone on the ancient “cemetery” court, “Addo”, a veteran of multiple Wimbledon finals and golf Grand Slams, exclaimed: “Mark my words, this boy is a future Wimbledon champion.”
As a BBC reporter I was fairly new to the job and I felt the need to lower my expectations for someone who was only 18 years old. Tony Adamson, but it’s too early to decide on that. Everyone nodded obediently.
We’ve laughed about it a lot since then, because while I have a professional opinion in my heart, I should side with him, especially since my gut says yes. A future Wimbledon champion indeed.
As the pace of his senior career gathered pace, Murray often used his rebellious, vengeful tendencies to win games and prove people wrong. He would be defiant, complain about crazy claims or lazy assumptions, and be fascinated by the workings of the media.
In 2006, after I had dinner with Judy Murray in Hamburg, she texted her in the afternoon asking if Andy could join us. We went to a sports bar in the Rothenbaum district to watch the Champions League final between Arsenal and Barcelona. Murray, now 19, drank Sprite and asked questions throughout the evening. How does this work? What kind of person is he? what does she do? Why do this?
It was so refreshing to be asked by a teenager who was so curious about our industry. When I got home, I wrote a thick document and emailed it, distilling our conversation and adding more ideas to the media machine. I think a lot of mistrust can be resolved through mutual empathy.
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After going through many ups and downs, in April 2013, I made a shocking personal decision. After more than a decade traveling the world, most of them reporting on just one person, I felt ready for someone else to try my hand at a major BBC job. My talented boss Richard Burgess asked me if I would stick around until Wimbledon, so for three months I knew my last commentary as BBC tennis reporter would be the men’s singles final.
Murray led Novak Djokovic by two sets in the three-hour match and defended his title 5-4 in the third set in what looked like the perfect ending. Just for the game to start.
As Murray’s arm trembled, he lost three match points. Djokovic gave a worrying smile. He knows it and so do we. The incredible Serbian was back in the game and Murray was on the verge of collapse under the weight of reality, let alone history. I will never know how Murray withstood Djokovic’s resurgence and fought his way through this epic final match. The closest he came to failure was on the match serve.
When I was a teenager I was obsessed with Wimbledon and would get excited when I would see Andrew Castle or Jeremy Bates win a single round. Now we have a champion; a true men’s singles champion. He’s won again since then. And reached the first place in the world. All amazing achievements. But nothing beats that first time on Center Court. This is easily the most unusual event I have ever described, and knowing the disappointment, controversy, and devastation that went into it and made up this story makes it all the more special.
It’s not quite over yet. His wise decision to withdraw from singles gave him the best chance of keeping the ‘mic drop’ career-ending moment; i.e. winning a doubles match in the presence of brother Jamie and his family, and the whole country getting involved with Murray again state of stagnation. Risking an injury on a single ends that possibility.
How lucky we are to see such a talented, brave and remarkable man as Sir Andy Murray.
