TRUE BRITISH HERO WHO IS A ROLE MODEL TO MILLIONS
THERE is arguably no one in the history of British sport more deserving of a knighthood than Andy Murray. He has spent more than a decade battling some of the finest players ever to grace the game of tennis in order to top the current world rankings at the end of what proved to be his annus mirabilis.
But despite adding a second Wimbledon and retaining his Olympic title in 2016, some have urged the powers-that-be to resist the temptation to bestow upon Murray, at the tender age of 29, the great honour of becoming one of the youngest knights of the realm in modern times.
Far better, surely, to let him concentrate on his tennis and allow us to thrill to triumphs yet to come. Pressed on the knighthood issue, the newly-anointed world number one seemed to declare himself illprepared for such accolades. ‘I feel too young for something like that,’ he said. ‘I am just trying to keep doing what I am doing, working hard and achieving stuff.’
The fact is that all that hard work and single-minded focus has allowed this precocious talent to savour real success from a very young age. With three Grand Slams – two Wimbledons and one US Open – 14 Masters titles, two Olympic golds, the Davis Cup and almost £50million prize money under his belt before he turns 30, he is a role model to millions.
As one of Britain’s most successful sportsmen ever, age really ceases to be a factor. This son of Dunblane, Perthshire, could retire tomorrow and look back on a long career studded with highlights.
It may amuse him to recall besting grown men in county tournaments before he had reached his teens; he will certainly remember with bursting pride winning the junior US Open title; and his first senior appearance at Wimbledon as a teenage wildcard in 2005, when he gave former finalist David Nalbandian an almighty fright; not to mention finally becoming the first British man to win the hallowed trophy in 77 years.
IT MUST have been clear to anyone with half a tennis brain that Andy Murray was born with exceptional sporting gifts. But his great good fortune was to have that remarkable talent recognised and nurtured from an early age in a family where tennis was already a way of life.
As the second son of former tennis pro Judy Murray, he benefited from her men- toring when she went on to be a top coach. Growing up with an older brother blessed both with a similar ability and a determination to remain top dog would leave the younger sibling with a burning desire to scrap for every point.
Easy-going Jamie, older by 15 months, was bigger and stronger and forced his brother to work harder, dig deeper, to win. Few doubt that sibling rivalry was a key factor in turning Murray into the ruthless, determined competitor he is today. As his grandmother Shirley Erskine recalled: ‘Andy has always been competitive at every game he ever played. When he was a child, the snakes and ladders board would end up tipped up on the floor if he wasn’t winning.’
The darkest episode in Murray’s life – the murderous attack on his primary school in Dunblane in 1996 by gunman Thomas Hamilton may also have had some psychological bearing on the tennis player he became.
Hamilton was known to the family, the Murrays attended his boys’ club and Mr Murray would give him lifts. It was only long after the shootings, in which the brothers and sisters of friends died, that he could even bring himself to talk about it, in his 2009 autobiography. The early divorce of his mother and father Will, which may also have played its part in shaping his temperament, has never been discussed in public.
Whatever, Murray’s mother never attempted to iron out her son’s truculent character, perhaps aware that for any prodigy in a gladiatorial sport such as tennis, the more unpalatable the prospect of defeat in the mind of the player, the more colossal the effort to avoid it.
She was also careful not to show favouritism to her children over others at the coaching sessions she ran.
But there was little chance of them being ignored. By five, Andy was competing in his first tournament – an under-tens competition
at Dunblane Sports Club. Brian Melville, a coach at the club who knew both brothers from childhood, said: ‘They were in a different class – and so different in personality. Jamie was a far more elegant player but he was less aggressive than Andy. It wasn’t so much Andy wanted to win. He hated to lose.’
At eight, Murray was debuting in the club’s men’s doubles tournament, having run out of players his own age who could cope with him. Unfazed by teaming up with a player in his fifties, he told his partner he stood too close to the net.
Mr Melville added: ‘The opposition were usually pretty surprised to see this small boy in our team. Andy was so good he used the pace they put on the ball and hit it back even harder.’
The Murrays’ home, only 200 yards from the club, was filling up with their junior trophies. They lined them up as a makeshift net in the living room and whacked sponge balls over it. But Mrs Murray was more concerned that Andy’s burgeoning success would damage Jamie’s confidence. He soon moved away, aged only 12, to train at the Lawn Tennis Association Academy in Cambridge.
AT the same time, coach Leon Smith, who would later captain the victorious Davis Cup team, began working with the 11-year-old Andy. He recalled the youngster winning the Orange Bowl in Miami aged 12 and felt even then that Andy won because he just wanted it more. He said: ‘That’s when it hit home that we were dealing with a world-class talent. Most kids, once they finished their matches, they’d be off. But he watched all his opponents, absorbing more information than anyone.’
By the age of 15, Andy was pursuing his dream abroad, training alongside his friend Rafael Nadal at the Sanchez-Casal tennis school in Barcelona. Within three years, he had landed the US Open junior title and was ready to take his senior Wimbledon bow as a gawky 18year-old in 2005. He exploded into a nation’s consciousness with electrifying wins over George Bastl and 14th seed Radek Stepanek to set up a third round tie with former finalist David Nalbandian on Centre Court.
Murray was soon two sets up and would have finished the job had he not fallen victim to horrendous cramps, eventually losing in five thrilling sets. Nevertheless, the kid from Dunblane had signalled his arrival and walked off to a standing ovation. After the match, a clearly rattled Nalbandian offered a prescient warning: ‘He lost because of physical problems but he has plenty of time to work on his fitness.’
So began a decade of dominance by the Scot and three other masters of the game – the mercurial Nadal, Swiss maestro Roger Federer and the clinical Serb Novak Djokovic.
Murray rose through the rankings but Grand Slam glory eluded him until 2012’s US Open, where he beat defending champion Djokovic in five sets. That breakthrough came hot on the heels of his first Olympic title where he took Federer apart in three sets on the same Centre Court where the Swiss had beaten him in his first Wimbledon final that summer. The following year, he added the Wimbledon title to his name.
Such single-minded pursuit of the prize has left many wondering if Murray might just be a bit too, well, boring to be considered a national hero. Certainly, his Twitter biog could not be more succinct. Unchanged even by the events of such a seismic 2016, it still reads: ‘Andy Murray. I play tennis’.
He famously doesn’t drink, has never gone in for the tattoo fetish that has consumed every top flight footballer and has only ever had one serious girlfriend, Kim Sears, now his wife.
Their 2014 wedding in Dunblane Cathedral, followed by a reception at his own five-star Cromlix House Hotel nearby, was one of the rare occasions when a family photograph was released. The birth of his daughter, Sophia, was not.
BUT while his private life may be passive, his oncourt persona never is. Middle England, which championed plucky, privately-educated losers such as Tim Henman has struggled to warm to the shy Scot. In a joint interview with Henman in 2006, he joked he would ‘support whoever England were playing against’ at the World Cup in Germany. The jibe did not go down well.
A last-ditch announcement he was supporting Yes in the independence referendum also raised eyebrows. But such wounds heal, helped by the soothing balm of victory. For a decade now, we have also been touched by rare joy when his belief in his own astonishing ability has proven the key to confounding his opponents – exemplified by that extraordinary 2015 Davis Cup victory, secured with an improbable lobbed winner.
He ends 2016 as double Wimbledon winner, double Olympic champion and number one tennis player in the world. Before his 30th birthday in May, he will be Sir Andy.
The only pitfall is believing honorary titles count for anything on a tennis court. But anyone who knows Murray knows he would never take his eye off the main prize.