In the Family

The mother of two Wimbledon champions remembers her own sporting success in 1973

My DAD took this photo in the lounge of my childhood home in Dunblane. that triumphant smile and the ribbon-clad trophy closest to me both belong to the newly crowned Girl Guide tennis Champion of 1973.

the match was held at Queen’s Club in London which, for a 14 -yea r-old small-tow n g i rl f rom scotland who had never ventured to the capital before, was an adventure. the day before, my mum and i had wrapped sandwiches in a paper bag and caught the early train to London king’s Cross, then taken the tube to my aunt’s home in Woodford Green, where we were staying.

When i arrived at Queen’s the next day i was amazed: rolling grass courts (i’d only ever played on clay), a huge clubhouse, banners emblazoned with the Girl Guides’ clover logo and umpires dr e s s e d t o t he n i ne s . hig h on ad r e n a l i n, i attacked the game with gusto and walked away victorious. it all seems a bit of a blur now.

as soon as i got home, my dad – who always played cameraman – had me dress up in my tennis gear and took this photo in front of my shining trophies. i lived for matches – i only extended my Girl Guides membership in order to take part in this tennis competition, which i don’t think even exists any more.

there was a legendary fish and chip café in the next village. if my brothers and i had been well behaved or my parents were too exhausted from cheering on the sidelines to face the kitchen, we were allowed to share a portion between us. the Girl Guide commissioner in Dunblane promised me a portion if i won the competition. ‘a whole portion to myself !’ i remember thinking. Needless to say i licked the chip paper clean.

My relent less desire to win def initely came from Dad. When i started playing aged 10, he made sure t hat i lear nt t he hard way. our ver y own Wimbledon would take place in our back garden – a piece of rope tied between two chairs – questionably umpired by my younger brothers. My dad also built footba ll goals out of ply wood a nd made cricket stumps, and we played badminton over the washing line. But the thing i remember most is that he never let us win at anything. harsh but fair: it’s a tactic i also deployed when raising my sons.

sport runs in my blood. My maternal grandfather played rugby for Berwick Rangers and his wife, my g randmother, was a pe teacher. My mum has always said that her winning genes are the source of Jamie and andy’s professional suc- cesses, but i credit my parents for placing sport at the heart of our family life. they ferried me back and forth across the country, they replaced the snapped strings of many a racquet and secured me a place at a private school with superb tennis facilities, but unlike today, there was no money to be made in spor t. tennis just wasn’t taken s er iously back t hen. When Rod L aver won Wimbledon in 1961 his reward was a £25 Lillywhites voucher. — Interview by Robbie Hodges Knowing the Score: My Family and Our Tennis Story, by Judy Murray, is published by Chatto & Windus in hardback (£18.99). Ebook and audio versions are also available

Our own Wimbledon would take place in our back garden – a piece of rope tied between two chairs