As Andy Murray rolled through the first three points in that now historic 10th game of the third set of yesterday’s Wimbledon final, I thought: “Somehow, Andy Murray trying to become the first Brit to win back-to-back Wimbledon titles since Fred Perry did it 78 years ago just will not have the same ring.”
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that while it seemed like a semi-clever line to throw out there, it pointed toward a significant condition. Whatever are we to do now that Murray has become the first British subject to triumph at Wimbledon since Perry won his third consecutive title there in 1936?
Since the dawn of the Open era, we have been sustained by this one constant theme—this singular and seemingly forever bank-able story line going into “The Championships.” Given the situation, it would never take a break, never go away even for one fortnight. How could it? And now—poof!— it’s gone. Blasted into oblivion by that running forehand pass that Murray drilled by Djokovic after he had blown three match points, and then survived two break points, to put a fitting improbable and stomach-churning end to the tournament. Say good-bye then, to a theme for the ages.
How ponderous and volatile had that theme become? Let me fly this by you, and call me absurdly fanciful if you will. But I swear I could feel the hand of history on the grip of Murray's Head YouTek Radical racquet yesterday. When Murray told Sue Barker during the trophy presentation ceremony that he couldn’t actually remember much of that last game, I took his remark as gospel truth.
As fit and strong and indomitable a champion as Djokovic is, even he was ultimately unable to repel the gravitational pull of history. This moment was bound to come. And it did not come easily, or in a way that in any sense devalues the achievement, or makes it seem a fluke that was bound to happen, mostly because 77 years is a long, long time.