THE purple podium had been placed on Centre Court, the men's singles medal-winners were walking to their spots and, his head still in the clouds, Andy Murray strolled past where he should have stopped until Roger Federer gestured him to his proper place.
That was the kind of unforgettable day this was, of incredulity mixed with joy, of gestures both great and small, of great deeds and chivalry, of Murray peering at his reflection in a gold medal.
This was the moment. He had looked for it, worked for it, played his heart out in its pursuit, taken savage knocks, buckled, shed tears and then, on the court that has a resonance in tennis nowhere can match, it happened for him. Not in a grand-slam tournament perhaps, but after what occurred overnight, they will seem that little less daunting. This was that once-in-a-lifetime, the Olympic Games in London, at Wimbledon, facing down the greatest and, this time, all the dreams came true.
The full stop to the argument came with a blistering ace that drew chalk on its way to thudding into the backstop. Federer's shoulders slumped, not for the first time as his desire for a gold singles medal to add to all those other prizes he has gathered was ripped from his grasp.
Murray won 6-2 6-1 6-4, a victory margin staggering in its severity and wondrous in its execution. A nation - and that means every nation that goes to make up these islands - were as one in saluting him. A month ago, the tears that were being wiped from our cheeks were in accord with his own, a four-set loss to Federer in the Wimbledon final, when he knew he had his opportunities and cursed his inability to take them.
But as the British flag was raised above this Centre Court - something no one had seen before - only the most hard-hearted soul would not have felt like rejoicing.
Britain last won a singles gold medal at tennis in 1908, when the 37-year-old Major (his real first name) Ritchie defeated a young German, Otto Froitzheim, who tried to play the Englishman from the back of the court but was beaten in straight sets.
Whatever part of the court in the final, the 25-year-old Murray was superior, be it in serving, in his touch around the net, in his appreciation of width and depth. Federer, on the contrary, was well out of his and that is saying something.
Murray dropped only one set in the entire event, his performances in both the semi-final against Novak Djokovic and Federer were of a breathtakingly high standard. Yes, Federer was not completely blameless and did much to bring about his own downfall, with the rushes of volleying blood, the litany of errors off the ground and the sense that getting this far had taken too much from him. But how many times have we felt for those opponents he had nailed in important finals?
"Don't feel too bad for me," he said. "I won Wimbledon and I became the world No1 again. I won my silver, I didn't lose it. It was obvious that Andy was going to become a better player over the years. He has made minor tweaks to his game, become more aggressive and more consistent and they make a big difference at the highest of levels. I was very pleased he could bring home the gold."
One recalls that, four years ago, when asked whether Murray might be a contender one day, Federer dismissed that notion because the Briton waited too long for the opponent to make a mistake; he preferred the grind, stood too far back and that, over a 15-year career, you needed to make the point yourself rather than wait for your opponent to make a mistake. The lesson, Professor Federer, has now been heeded.
Murray is a new man, as illustrated by the medallion placed across his shoulders and to which, when the acclaim went up, he offered his usual sheepish wave. For too long, that was the way he played his tennis, as if his talents were not quite good enough for the stages on which they demanded he be set.
He reached four grand slam finals, and lost; they called him a bottler and, if you are a shy guy, that can have an enormous effect on your esteem. As much as others tried to build him up, it needed Murray to do it on his own and though he was cheesed off with not adding the mixed doubles gold as well, what mattered more was how he played when he was flying solo.
The game that turned the final in his favour came after he had already won eight games and Federer only two. It was the third game of the second set, in which the Swiss had six break points, one of which was saved with a stunning backhand volley at the net and the last, as Federer felt that he had struck the cleanest of winners, when Murray's double-hander zipped off the turf just inside the tramline and which seemed to knock all the stuffing from the Wimbledon champion.
Having snaffled Federer's serve in the sixth game of the third set, and playing again with bravado and ebullience, Murray walked to the roller end to serve for gold. He looked to have gone pale all of a sudden but that image was false. The blood was pumping and the last two points, both aces, scattered all the doubts.
As he captured the moment on his video camera, Murray's father, Will, finally melted when he saw his son's head tip forward for the medal to be placed around it. "Who would have a thought a skinny wee boy from Dunblane would win an Olympic gold medal?" he said. Who indeed.
via The Times
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