Murray’s fear over Wimbledon
Queen’s upset leaves world No 1 in a spin as title defence looms
Whether it was the heat, the anticipation, or the sheer novelty of facing an Australian opponent so far out of left-field that he had to look him up on Youtube, Andy Murray crumpled last night at Queen’s Club to a shocking straights-set defeat that threw his credentials to win a third Wimbledon title this summer into serious doubt.
Jordan Thompson was barely a headline name in his own kitchen when he caught the bus to Queen’s yesterday, on the off-chance of being called up as a lucky loser. Five hours later, as evening gathered over west Kensington, this unassuming 23-year-old from Sydney was raising his arms in bewildered triumph at toppling the world No1.
It was a day of torment for the game’s aristocracy, not to mention the organisers of an event that had enticed five of the world’s top 10 to play here. First Rafael Nadal and Juan Martín del Potro pulled out at late notice, then Milos Raonic, Stan Wawrinka and Murray all found themselves vanquished by unseeded adversaries. At this most tranquil of sports settings, there was blood on the lawns.
By far the greatest chagrin, though, belonged to Murray. No longer could he blame his struggles in 2017 on the absence of coach Ivan Lendl, who was watching courtside. This was a listless and error-littered performance against a player who should, by ranking and relative lack of grass-court experience, have been little more than cannon fodder. All the worries from his recent slump were writ large in a 7-6, 6-2 loss: the sluggishness, the constant on-court mutterings, the woefully errant forehand.
The indignity that Thompson, a young man more accustomed to slumming it at Challenger events in Vietnam than performing for the blazer-and-boater set in W14, inflicted here was stark. Not since Cincinnati in 2015, against Roger Federer, had Murray failed to break serve at least once. But that fine sequence of 136 matches was snapped by an unheralded talent firing on raw adrenalin.
There is no reason to panic just yet. Murray also fell at the first hurdle at Queen’s 2012, but within six weeks he had gone on to reach a Wimbledon final and win Olympic gold. He has a remarkable capacity to eliminate the scar tissue of rogue results, as his run to the last 16 of 25 consecutive majors would attest. But there is a sense this time that something is more deeply awry with his game. As Murray has acknowledged, the first comment that Lendl made upon seeing him practise for Roland Garros last month was: “My God, this is not good.” For all that his advance to the semi-finals in Paris arrested the decline, the two have yet, on this evidence, to find a lasting remedy.
“If I play like that, I certainly won’t win Wimbledon,” said Murray, a five-time champion at Queen’s. “It’s a big blow. This tournament has given me great preparation in the past. It would have helped to have had more matches.”
Murray had promised to donate his winnings this week to the fund for victims of the Grenfell Tower fire – which occurred just 2½ miles from Queen’s. It was put to him that this noble gesture had exerted additional pressure on him.
“I try to prepare for the matches all the same,” he said. “Obviously I would have liked to have done well here for a number of reasons, that being a very good one, and, you know, it’s unfortunate I couldn’t have done better for that reason.”
So fragile is Murray’s confidence after this dismantling by the world No90 that he is considering adding more time on grass to his schedule before Wimbledon begins in 12 days’ time. While a late appearance at Eastbourne does not appeal, an exhibition event next week, either at Stoke Park or the Hurlingham Club, has not been discounted.
For an hour, it had looked as if Murray was simply feeling his way into the first engagement of his grass-court campaign, but a sense of alarm engulfed him quickly. He was flaying forehands far outside the tramlines and botching dropshots, for which he usually has a gossamer touch. Even a rare chance of a comeback, with three break points early in the second set, swiftly dissolved amid a hail of unforced errors. “On grass, if you’re seeing things just a split-second late, it can make it even tougher,” Murray said with a shrug.
An exultant Thompson could hardly believe his luck. Asked whether his ace on match point was the sweetest he had ever struck, he replied, with a bashful smile: “Yeah. When I saw that hit the backboard, I was pretty pumped.” Thompson grew up idolising compatriot Lleyton Hewitt, the consummate grafter, and he looked almost impervious to pressure as the best result of his life closed in. At one break up in the second, then two, he did not blink, as Murray offered scarcely a vestige of resistance.
Appearances can be deceptive. “When I heard I was playing Andy, I was pretty nervous,” he said. “But I wanted to go out there and enjoy it, so I did everything as normal.”
All blissfully straightforward, then? Well, not quite. Even the modest Thompson would have to concede that he played out of his skin, making 70 per cent of his first serves and producing groundstrokes of a purity that belied his ranking. For Murray, it threatened to be a long, dark night of the soul. He had begun his day in the blaze of a London summer but he ended it wreathed in shadow.