Murray Wins Queens: Is Wimbledon Next?

I have just finished watching Andy Murray winning Queens (sorry, the Aegon Championships), becoming the first British player to win the tournament in over 70 years. And, despite my occasional cynicism (and yesterday’s musing), I must confess that I too have been drawn into that discussion that will no doubt dominate the media over these next few weeks, the discussion that will make the average British man and woman tennis fans for only a short period: Could this possibly be the year?

Could this possibly be the year? A question that has been at the forefront of every Wimbledon tournament since the birth of Henmania but which, unfortunately, has been met with the same answer: no. Maybe next year. This time, though, things are different. The nation’s obsession with a native winning ‘their’ Grand Slam – an obsession that has seen hopes go from a fast-serving Canadian to a quintessentially plucky Englishman with a tendency for choking on big occasions – now has a new poster boy in the form of a sullen Scot with an American twang when he speaks. With Murray winning Wimbledon’s traditional warm-up tournament, and reaching Number 3 in the World Rankings, he seems to have finally shaken the Henman monkey off his back and give us all the feeling that this could truly be the year. Genuinely.

The interesting thing is that, despite the annual elevation of British hopes, there was a prevalent feeling that Henman was never really going to win it. He might have reached the heights of Number 4 in the world – a position he held for a considerable amount of time – but Henman was unfortunate in that he was caught up between both the Sampras and the Federer eras, two of the strongest periods of domination in the sport. Only in one of his four semi-final appearances was it really felt that Henman could have won it, and while many maintain that his rain-delayed loss to Goran Ivanisevic represented his closest moment, it must nonetheless be emphasised that not only did Henman fail to win Wimbledon but he never even reached the final (of any Grand Slam event too). Was he skilful? Yes. Was he plucky? Yes. Was he brave? Yes. Was he a Champion? No.

And this is where the difference between Henman and Murray lies. Henman simply lacked that fibre that separates winners from losers. Call it clutch factor, or passion, or second-wind, Henman was just – dare I say it – too nice to be a winner. Too English. His career was more as a gracious loser than a vanquishing victor, a role which, as he started to fill, the British public started to respond to. Even in the twilight of his days, when he was still consistently reaching Grand Slam semi-finals, fans were resigned to the fact that it was more a question of when rather than whether Henman would lose. It stopped being about whether this would be the year that Henman won, but whether it would be the year that Henman would not lose. And when your career is looked at from the point of view of defeat rather than victory you know that a Champion you will never be.

But this feeling of defeat is not evident in Murray’s play, despite his inexperience. Not for Murray the label of “brave and plucky” but rather that of “winner”. He plays with a passion and an intensity that was missing in Henman’s tactical side. Murray has addressed his weaknesses – the mark of a true champion – and is waiting to unleash this spirit. He is not interested in being the British hope – he has even openly admitted to preferring the U. S. Open – but merely in being a winner. And while his attitude, his style and his lack of charisma might never fully endear him to the British fan, his Wimbledon trophy will one day take care of that.

And that could just be this year.