An open letter to Murray who’s set to retire

Dear Andy,

It’s been incredible, emotional, at times frustrating (especially for you) but ultimately it’s been glorious. You are a champion and you always will be.

A skinny Scottish teenager who steeled himself to take on and conquer the world – we watched in awe and pride, even if we occasionally did so through our fingers.

You made it to the pinnacle in the greatest ever era of men’s tennis. Roger Federer is the most talented player to have held a racquet. Rafael Nadal took a sport that was advancing in physicality and brought it to a new level of bicep-bulging brutality. Novak Djokovic hardly has a flaw.

The altitude that these three took tennis to left the rest breathless, along with those of us watching. But you refused to be left behind – working harder and smarter, pushing every possible limit.

The big three bolted the door to the big trophy room. You battered it down. And earned your place in that room, turning the big three into the big four.

You did it with a style of tennis that is exhilarating. There was a thought behind every shot.

You looked at the court as a grandmaster assesses a chessboard; calculating the next move, working out positional domination, with an instinctive sense of when to advance and when to retreat.

It says something remarkable that Federer must admire your finesse and Nadal knows he couldn’t bully you with his power. Djokovic knows you have the mental strength to handle the points that make the handshake.

I remember when you won your first Grand Slam title (US Open in 2012). I was in my office, listening to it on a radio broadcast. Radio is a nerve-shredding way to follow a tennis match. At the end, I think I collapsed as you did. Shattered by the emotion of it. It seemed to me that nobody had ever deserved it more.

Frankly, if hard work equals success then you deserved more (much, much more) than the great success that you did achieve. Your commitment to getting better, pushing yourself further, is an inspiration to anyone who wants to improve themselves.

I must admit, shamefully, that there were times when I had the occasional doubt – that you could be more aggressive, that you could be more controlled on court, that the second serve was wavering.

What do we armchair critics know?

You fool us all by making the game look so easy. I’ve played enough tennis to know its character. Few sports apply such physical and psychological pressure simultaneously.

Your first Wimbledon victory in 2013 will always remain one of the best sporting memories of my life. I screamed at the TV in a bar, willing you on. You held it together at the end better than I did.

You’ve given us fans a treasure trove of such memories and we’ll always be grateful. You’ve conducted yourself with nothing but dignity and grace. Even in defeat, which is the true test of a champion.

You met with triumph and disaster, and treated those two imposters just the same.

So as you face this challenge, I know you will face it as you have every other, without flinching.

When you put your racquet in the bag for the last time as a professional, you should do so without regret. You took every weakness that stood in your way and crushed it beneath the force of your will.

Coaches always say: “Leave it all on the court.” You always have.

And as you walk off it for the last time, be in no doubt: you left your greatness out there.

A very grateful fan.

Craig