Diary of Great Britain: Murray

Hey guys, here's an attempt at a short chapter for my book. Let me know what you think! :)

Murray

"Enough with the bloody drop shots already!"

I yell in frustration, and a comment like that can only mean one thing: Andy Murray is playing at Wimbledon.

As usual, he's not taking his opponent seriously, and my fellow spectators, Lewis and Antony, share my annoyance. We're sitting in their living room, watching the supposed saviour of Great Britain taking on Stanislas Wawrinka; a man who sounds and looks Polish, but isn't. Although we come in half-way through the fourth set, it isn't long before we think the same as everyone else: damn, this Wawrinka guy's good, isn't he?

We haven't even heard of Wawrinka and already we're impressed by his game. His serve is ferocious, his stamina impressive, and his aces threaten to overwhelm Murray completely. So how come we've never even heard of him, then? And how come he's only the 19th seed?

A Wiki search is called for: Lewis takes over. "Stanislas Wawrinka: Polish descent, born in Switzerland. Left school at 15 in order to pursue a full-time tennis career".

"How old is he?" I ask.

"Let's see: born in 1985."

Only 23? But still older than Murray, and wiser for it. The Scot throws away a break point and goes 6-5 down in the fourth set; he is clearly not in the right state of mind, and the expletives are flying thick and fast. Wawrinka, meanwhile, makes for a fascinating contrast: as cool as your average Swiss, his ace to take the set is unbelievable. So good is the shot that we unanimously shout for a replay, but time is pressing. The match has been going since 6ish, and it's definitely gone 9, though we've long lost track of time in this game. A subtitle insists that BBC News will follow the broadcast shortly, but my mind tells me a tie-breaker is on its way.

However, I'd forgotten Murray's determination. He holds serve well in the fifth set, then breaks serve even better: a lob shot by Wawrinka has us fearing the worst until Murray somehow scoops it back over the net to safety. Wawrinka has no response but to curse in disappointment; we have no response but to roar in hope. One game later, and Great Britain's lone standard-bearer is 3-0 up.

Game over?

We weren't counting on Stanislas: it seems no-one was, except maybe his coach and his father, who shares the same squashed profile. Wawrinka fights back mercilessly at first, and is soon 40-0 up in the fourth game. 3-1, surely? But no. Wawrinka has yet to develop that ruthless streak you see in such greats as Federer and Nadal, and he lets it slip to deuce.

Cue groans of despair from all: I actually punch the sofa as the horror of that scenario kicks in.

"What's worse than losing a game?"

"Getting to deuce."

"What's worse than getting to deuce?"

"Getting to deuce AGAIN!"

We laugh, but this is getting serious. Wawrinka not only holds serve, he breaks it too.

"I could play better than that!" roars Lewis, as Murray tamely smacks the ball into the net. In the next game, he barely moves: another Wawrinka ace makes short work of him.

"Pathetic." snarls Antony; 3-3.

Why do British athletes do this to us? And how come the Swiss are so good at tennis? You would have thought a country made up of lakes and mountains would be useless for such a game, but Wawrinka here is threatening to silence the hyped-up British press once and for all.

Until Murray holds serve, that is. Cue cameramen deliberately zooming in on any cheering female Murray supporter that happens to have a low-cut top. We are all agreed that most cameramen are peeping toms, and that being paid to perform such a task seems highly unjustified. Are they even watching this match?

The camera pans back to a girl with a low-cut red top. Nope, apparently not.

A few moments later and even the cameramen are focusing on the real action, as Murray finally breaks serve again and punishes Wawrinka for failing to show a killer instinct: the drop shots finally start to pay off, and his adversary's aces have long since vanished. As James returns to the house, I feel a stab of sympathy for both Wawrinka and his demise: he had nothing to lose, but the gratuitous whooping of Centre Court, complete with silly hats, threatens to tarnish the efforts of this red-nosed fighter. If Murray wants to go all the way in this contest, he would do well to copy his opponent's serve, and his temperament too.

A roar from the crowd: two match points to Murray. 40-30.

Silence reigns; through the house; down the street; and all the way to South-West London.

Thwock. Thwack. THWOCK.

"YES!"

The cry is in unison: the relief palpable. Murray has dispatched one Swiss: but as we decide a late snack is in order, and the pundits dash onto Centre Court, we all agree that there is much to be done before this hot-headed Scot dispatches the other one.

Is there anything more stressful than Wimbledon? After watching that performance, I doubt it.