My TV Moment 1 ... July 8 2013: Andy Murray
Remember this one? The date comes easily to me, as, for the second year in a row, I found myself with my family watching Andy Murray in the Wimbledon final at my niece's birthday.
The memories of the strong start then gradual loss of the battle of wills to an inspired Federer from 2012 were fresh in the memory. I expected the same this time round. Djokovic does not know when he is beaten. He could play for days. Despite his epic semi-final against Juan Martin Del Potro, I expected him to have more in the tank than Murray, as he has at the Australian Open earlier in the year.
We all remember the incredible last game, where Murray went 40-0, then Djokovic reeled him in to break point, and suddenly it was all on this game, triumph or disaster, and somehow or other Murray held his nerve.
The record books show an easy 3 set win, but we all know differently.
We all sat, all us adults, glued to our seats as the, dare I say it, slightly neglected children played on behind us, with only the oldest showing a bit of interest and understanding in why normally attentive parents were elsewhere.
Not everyone was a hardcore Murray fan, far from it, there were some strong dissenters - whether it was the "Anyone but England" thing, his dourness, his perceived "arrogance" (what?). Some of us, though, were his supporters and defenders, angrily rebutting any negatives with evidence of his good nature and genuine heroism. "Did you see the documentary? You wouldn't say that if you'd seen the documentary".
My instinct was to flee. Indeed, most of the first set I tried to hide from the intensity of it in the garden, but I was dragged in by Juliette and told to man up. Thank goodness. So I lived it all. I managed to only swear once. I roared and clenched my fist, as did my mother, though slightly more elegantly.
How big was Andy Murray winning Wimbledon, in the scheme of it? Well, it's certainly one of the 3 biggest moments in British sport of the last 30 years. The other two will appear later.
Wimbledon is as big as we little Englanders think it is. It's the great tennis tournament and tennis, men's tennis, is currently on a high as the greatest sport in the world. Has been since Federer came along.
And yes, the 77 year thing, yes, the years of failure, yes Murray's previous Grand Slam losses, all of that, all of that. He actually did it. No one thought anyone would, no one thought he would. Once Henman blew his big chance in 2001, no, it wasn't going to happen.
It made me happy. I happily watched it back for days, read every little article about it, talked about it, relived it, it made me happier about myself and about the world, which really is what sport sometimes does.
Andy Murray's now won two Grand Slam tournaments, and he may not win any more. He hasn't, through a combination of form and injury, come close to that in the half-year since.
But that was enough. It was all we hoped it would be.
The memories of the strong start then gradual loss of the battle of wills to an inspired Federer from 2012 were fresh in the memory. I expected the same this time round. Djokovic does not know when he is beaten. He could play for days. Despite his epic semi-final against Juan Martin Del Potro, I expected him to have more in the tank than Murray, as he has at the Australian Open earlier in the year.
We all remember the incredible last game, where Murray went 40-0, then Djokovic reeled him in to break point, and suddenly it was all on this game, triumph or disaster, and somehow or other Murray held his nerve.
The record books show an easy 3 set win, but we all know differently.
We all sat, all us adults, glued to our seats as the, dare I say it, slightly neglected children played on behind us, with only the oldest showing a bit of interest and understanding in why normally attentive parents were elsewhere.
Not everyone was a hardcore Murray fan, far from it, there were some strong dissenters - whether it was the "Anyone but England" thing, his dourness, his perceived "arrogance" (what?). Some of us, though, were his supporters and defenders, angrily rebutting any negatives with evidence of his good nature and genuine heroism. "Did you see the documentary? You wouldn't say that if you'd seen the documentary".
My instinct was to flee. Indeed, most of the first set I tried to hide from the intensity of it in the garden, but I was dragged in by Juliette and told to man up. Thank goodness. So I lived it all. I managed to only swear once. I roared and clenched my fist, as did my mother, though slightly more elegantly.
How big was Andy Murray winning Wimbledon, in the scheme of it? Well, it's certainly one of the 3 biggest moments in British sport of the last 30 years. The other two will appear later.
Wimbledon is as big as we little Englanders think it is. It's the great tennis tournament and tennis, men's tennis, is currently on a high as the greatest sport in the world. Has been since Federer came along.
And yes, the 77 year thing, yes, the years of failure, yes Murray's previous Grand Slam losses, all of that, all of that. He actually did it. No one thought anyone would, no one thought he would. Once Henman blew his big chance in 2001, no, it wasn't going to happen.
It made me happy. I happily watched it back for days, read every little article about it, talked about it, relived it, it made me happier about myself and about the world, which really is what sport sometimes does.
Andy Murray's now won two Grand Slam tournaments, and he may not win any more. He hasn't, through a combination of form and injury, come close to that in the half-year since.
But that was enough. It was all we hoped it would be.
Comments
Post a Comment