Wimbledon is more than three weeks away, but already I can feel an attack of Murrayitis coming on. For non-sufferers, I can reveal that this is a chronic condition and one that can only be cured by a studious avoidance of professional tennis. For some people it’s the onset of hay fever that casts a pall over spring. For me, it’s the advent of the European tennis season, bringing with it the now familiar and incredibly tedious question: “Can Andy Murray win a Grand Slam?”
Let me explain: I love tennis, or at least I used to. Back in the 70s, 80s and early 90s there was a glorious era when Britain’s male tennis players could largely be ignored from one Wimbledon to the next. Of course, John Lloyd, Andrew Castle, or Jeremy Bates might rock the boat by winning the odd round of our annual grass-court jamboree. But they would quickly be despatched back to Loserville (or the BBC commentary box), leaving me free to revel in the exploits of true greats like Bjorn Borg, John McEnroe and Pete Sampras.
Those days of sublime skills now seem like a golden era. It was a period in which the men’s singles at Wimbledon wasn’t reduced to endless speculation about British hopes of reclaiming the trophy last won by Fred Perry back in 1936. It couldn’t last. In 1996 “Tiger” Tim Henman arrived on the scene, reaching the Wimbledon quarter-finals and igniting the hopes of a nation. The dark era of tennis viewing known as “Timbledon” had begun.
Tim had a brief flirtation with being a tennis bad boy in 1995, when he was disqualified from Wimbledon for throwing a strop and striking a ball girl — with a tennis ball. A bit feeble, really. John McEnroe, or Jeff Tarango would surely have thrown her into the stands and done some real damage. But this incident proved to be an aberration. The nice but dull Tim then spent the next decade flashing his unattractive teeth, saying “urr” a lot during interviews and snatching victory from the jaws of defeat against unheralded opponents.
He never won a Grand Slam and, most frustratingly for home fans, failed to reach the final of Wimbledon. The British media and a large section of the populace remains convinced that Tim would have won the title in 2001, but for (unpatriotic) weather raining on his parade and interrupting his epic semi-final with Goran Ivanisevic. No one (except me) seems to have even considered the possibility that our man might have gone on to lose in the final to Aussie Pat Rafter, a man who won two US Open titles.