Andy is simply the greatest
2012 OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALLIST. 2012 US OPEN CHAMPION. 2013 WIMBLEDON CHAMPION. 2015 DAVIS CUP WINNER. 2016 WIMBLEDON CHAMPION. 2016 OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALLIST.
FOR just a little while, it felt as if everyone was overlooking the obvious. Almost like we had already counted the contribution from our flag bearer as a guaranteed gold. Yeah, it’s just what he does. Decent player, isn’t he?
In our collective defence, it would have been almost impossible not to be blinded by the bling accumulated on a weekend that is destined to be remembered as one of the finest in the history of British sport.
Jason Kenny and Sir Bradley Wiggins adding more precious metal to their already impressive Olympic collections made for an eye-catching distraction, while Max Whitlock ending such a long wait for gymnastics gold, then following it up with a second, deserved applause even from those without much understanding of the sport.
Add in Katherine Grainger defying time or Mo Farah’s apparent invincibility to every would-be conqueror, gravity now included, and it would be churlish not to recognise that, even in a Team GB travelling party full to the gunnels with bona fide legends, an elite few have staked strong claims to be considered first among equals.
But the greatest ever British sportsperson? In the accumulated annals of kick-abouts, knock-abouts, toss-ups and throw-downs on these games-loving, format-exporting, world-beating isles?
Sir Sean Connery probably said it best in Highlander, a movie where he played a Spaniard opposite French actor Christopher Lambert, whose attempt at a Scottish accent was clearly some sort of Hollywood revenge for all of Sir Sean’s past, present and future linguistic offences.
‘There can be only one,’ declared Connery and, ignoring the fact that a character with the name of Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez delivered this line in a brogue closer to Oxgangs than Oviedo, the philosophy certainly applies here.
Late on Sunday night, at an hour when most citizens of this United Kingdom should have been tucked up in bed worrying about nothing more important than whether they would need sunscreen or a snowsuit for the Monday morning journey to work, Andy Murray reminded us all why he is The One.
Although he may be biased, elder brother Jamie rather captured the air of disbelief created by the manner of his freakish young sibling’s history making Olympic gold medal, describing Andy as an extra-terrestrial who just happened to be raised by a family in Dunblane.
THERE were aspects of his victory over Juan Martin del Potro that appeared to originate from somewhere beyond these earthly bounds. In a brutal contest that elevated victor and vanquished in the eyes of all who turned up or tuned in, Murray broke the serve, the will and the heart of the big Argentinian with a determination that can’t be measured in watts, lap times or distance covered.
From nigh on 6,000 miles away, he caused front rooms all over Britain to crackle and fizz with emotions ranging from despair and disbelief to relief and joy. And that, the impact Murray can have on the watching public, is what makes him the best of all time.
Oh, there are millions of us who feel ‘invested’ in Murray, all right. His achievements, his shortcomings, even those raw outbursts of furious frustration. He energises the parts of this sporting nation that other individuals and teams — football included — simply cannot reach.
Indeed, while some will tell you that rowing 2,000 metres through the chop and swell of the Rio lagoon is a challenge, watching Murray from the comfort of even the cushiest armchair might come close. All the stress without the cardiovascular benefits, eh? That’ll end well…
The fact that, after four hours of trying to bury each other, Murray and del Potro embraced like brothers also reminded us that high-octane rivalry can exist without descending into something darker. There is a greater chance of actual aliens abducting the world’s top 20 than of two tennis players getting involved in a footballstyle ‘tunnel bust-up.’
Look, it’s OK if others still have their favourites. And the debate over greatest ever sportsman or woman shouldn’t be restricted to greatest Olympian, which would be to impose a very different set of criteria.
Some sports offer far more chances for medals than others; nobody would pretend that Michael Phelps bagging 23 golds, as impressive as that may be, makes him four or five times as successful as Sir Bradley.
And consider this, in relation to the athlete currently in possession of the Team GB record for Olympic golds. If the cycling authorities hadn’t scrapped his favourite event from the programme, Sir Chris Hoy would probably only have finished with two or three golds to show for his absolute domination of the physically ruinous kilo.
Had that happened, instead of the change that forced him to branch out in pursuit of those individual sprint, team sprint and keirin prizes, would he be any less of an athlete?
If you want to get down and dirty about whether success in one sport is more noteworthy than a triumph in an entirely different discipline, well, you could argue long and hard about that one.
But think about this. On the brink of total exhaustion, something none of us recreational ‘athletes’ ever get close to, it may just be possible for the strongest human will to continue driving the body forward through muscle memory. Ten more agonising pulls on the oar. Sixty yards of putting one foot in front of the other and hanging on for dear life.
Murray, like all tennis players, has to do more than just endure and keep moving. There are crucial decisions to be made on every point. He has to then execute with precision, under intense pressure, to hit a moving target — and disguise his intentions, if he doesn’t want the ball to come screaming back past him.
So becoming the first person — not the first British man, not even the first man — to successfully defend an Olympic singles title puts him right up there with the very best we have ever seen in Team GB colours.
You must also accept that, even in this golden era of tennis giants striding across the earth’s courts in earth-shuddering bounds, none of the Big Four can claim to have done what Andy has — multiple Grand Slam titles, a Davis Cup victory and even one Olympic gold. Oh yes, he belongs among the very best.
Of course, all of the contenders for the Greatest British Sportsperson title have one innate problem. Namely, their ingrained Britishness makes them shy away from even hinting that they might deserve such an accolade.
Upon receiving his knighthood, Hoy joked with Sportsmail about being nominated for such an honour ‘just for riding my bike.’ Sir Steve Redgrave is similarly modest, deflecting praise.
Wiggins, whose Tour de France win puts him closest to Murray, has more swagger. But he’s not so brash as to actually push himself forward for the crown. After all, he’s not American.
Murray? He’ll leave others to say it. Which we will. One more time, then.
A British tennis player, a guy already responsible for ending a nation’s anguished wait for Grand Slam, Wimbledon (twice) and Davis Cup (once and counting) redemption, has just won a second successive Olympic gold medal in the men’s singles.
Come on, there isn’t even a debate to be had any more.