THE DEMONS ARE DEAD, BRIT WINS AT WIMBLEDON
The ghosts are in retreat. The demons are reeling. The deed’s done.
The headlines tell us a “Brit Wins At Wimbledon.” Of course, it’s not that simple. It never is with British sport.
Andy Murray’s 6-2, 6-1, 6-4 thrashing of ‘The Mighty Federer’ was not a Wimbledon final. That miracle still hasn’t occured in 76 years. So what? For a laconic lad – at last unafraid and aggressive – brought joy to the kingdom.
It wasn’t supposed to be.
After all, Federer has everything. The man with 17 Slams has his own logos. When the Queen comes to Wimbledon for lunch Roger sits by her side and has a chat. When he goes to New York he stays in the Federer Suite at the Carlye Hotel. And yes, Federer’s own Olympic souvenir pin comes with its own velvet patch.
More importantly, Centre Court is his crown room where four weeks earlier he convincingly beat Murray to collect his seventh Wimbledon title: piece of cake. Need we repeat, Roger has everything! Well, everything except an Olympic singles Gold Medal. Now, the greatest of all time, who had survived a record 4:26 minute battle against Juan Martin del Potro in the semis, would prevail.
But wait, this was different. This was the Olympics. And Scot Murray was playing for his North Sea island Kingdom that – in war, sports or Royal soap operas – comes together, lives together and, so to speak, dies together.
So a single hero didn’t light the Olympic flame. Instead, a committee of seven had the honor as they delivered “an all for one, one for all” message. Now crowds were delirious. And the day before the men’s Olympic singles finals Team GB, as the Brits call themselves, surged to win six golds.
Still, in three previous Slam finals, Federer had always handled Murray with ease. Plus, famously, before their first big final in the 2010 Aussie Open, he had talked trash, saying of the Scot, “I know he’d like to win the first Grand Slam title for British tennis in, what is it, 150,000 years.”
But now the stars were aligning for Andy. Just before the match the roof receded. Federer, the best indoor player in the world, would have to deal with the elements, a beat up court and 15,000 crazed British rowdies who were un-schooled in the quiet restraints of the All-England Club.
Advantage Murray.
Dressed in British colors and wearing blue and white Scottish wristbands, the 25-year old who had dismissed Novak Djokovic in the semis, strode on court feeling fresh and calm. Had he learned from his loss in the Wimbledon final? The man who so often approached matters in a collective way (with revolving coaches, trainers, physios and counselors from all over the globe) now stood alone: a solitary Braveheart, facing the best player of all time.
Forgotten was Murray’s first round loss in the Beijing Olympics and the pain of the French Open where – when he winced from back spasms – he was called a “drama queen” who only winced after losing points. For now, the hope of the nation was moving with liquid ease and hitting with authority. He stepped in and punished Federer’s second serves. He flashed hand speed as he stroked stab volleys and bent low to crunch crucial running backhands down the line. Gone was that old indulgence, his self-pitying angst. He was on a mission and the Gods were smiling as his lobs landed on the baseline and he scored let chord winners. He bent, but did not break.
Well, actually it was Federer who could not break as he failed, despite many a chance, to dent Murray’s serve, throughout the amazingly brief 1:56 match.
So what was ailing King Roger? Maybe it was because he was playing his sixth match in just eight days or he was feeling the effects of his draining semi. Maybe it was his age, almost 31, the howling crowd or just a matter of wanting too much the one thing he didn’t have. Whatever, we saw little of his feathery grace. There were few of his wonder flicks or the sublime power winners he usually scores. His second serve was exposed and he faltered when he had break points.
It was Murray – the bigger, younger, more confident and athletic man – who dictated. Briefly one thought of Fed’s recent string of fabulous comebacks against Delpo, Julien Benneteau at Wimbledon, and Jo-Willie Tsonga at the French Open. But today Roger’s counter-attack was modest. He was hesitant, slow, worried, uninspired. Yes, he had lost before on Centre Court. Think: Nadal, Tsonga and Berdych. But, in a decade, he had never been schooled. It was as if time, history, the moment and Team GB had joined together to inspire Murray to at last pull the trigger, to invert reality so that on this historic day Wimbledon’s modest Murray Mount seemed taller then even the mightiest of Swiss peaks.
