Technically, I’d say Andy Murray looks better with short hair. But he really seems more himself—more Muzzardly—when he lets it fly high and wild and ragged. As much as he’s cleaned and clipped and polished himself up over the years, Andy is never going to be slick. And hallelujah for that.

Murray's red locks were in full, flaming flight over the weekend in Vienna, where he won his second title of the fall and improved his chances of qualifying for the ATP’s year-end championships in London next month. Eight players make it to the O2 Arena; Murray is in eighth place with two events left. While the World Tour Finals will sell plenty of tickets without him, it’s safe to say that promoters are pulling for the hometown hero—or, after his recent pro-Scottish secession tweet, the hometown villain—to make it.

If Murray performs the way he did in the last four games of his 5-7, 6-2, 7-5 win over David Ferrer in the Vienna final on Sunday, he’ll undoubtedly make it to London. He might even win the whole thing. When a player has an especially good run of form, or competes with more conviction and aggression than normal, many of us wonder, “Why can’t he do that all the time?” I try to save myself from this sort of fruitless pleading; everyone, after all, has flaws that will never be fixed. But in the case of Murray, and the way he approached those final games against Ferru, I couldn’t hold out any longer. When Murray cracked a backhand return winner to break for 6-5, and send a raging Ferrer around the bend for good, I could be heard asking my television set, “Where has that shot been all these years?”

Murray, as his winning return indicates, played with unusual aggression down the stretch. He ran around and took full cuts at his forehand, and came to the net whenever possible. He was also more positive than normal. By which I mean that, along with beating his thigh with his racquet, smiling sarcastically toward his player box, and ranting at an invisible tormentor on court, Murray threw in a fist-pump or two. They were enough. Down 3-5 in the third and seemingly unable to hold serve against a nightmarishly persistent opponent who had just beaten him two weeks ago, Murray found a way back.

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When Andy Attacks

When Andy Attacks

The consensus is that Ivan Lendl turned Murray, a cautious retriever, into a Grand Slam champion by getting him to attack more with his forehand. And it’s true that Lendl, the inventor of the killer forehand in the 1980s, emphasized that shot. But it’s also true that Murray won his first major title, at the 2012 U.S. Open, by sitting back and letting Novak Djokovic try to push forward in the gusting wind at Flushing Meadows. And what was most memorable about Murray’s win over Djokovic in the Wimbledon final a year later were his long, scrambling runs, which led to winning passes. In other words, his retrieving skills.

Murray’s forehand did get better under Lendl; more important, he became a better, tougher competitor. But his calling cards were still consistency, counterpunching, speed, and defense. Murray has said over the years that being more aggressive isn’t necessarily the answer for him, because it can take him away from what he does best; patience has always been a virtue in Murray’s eyes. Along those same lines, when reporters have asked whether he thinks his negative demeanor hurts him, he has said, essentially and correctly, that body language has never won or lost anyone a tennis match.

The Murray who came back to beat Ferrer really was different, though, in a way that reminded me of Roger Federer’s attempts to change his game and make himself more aggressive this year. At Wimbledon, Federer said that being an effective net-rusher wasn’t about the percentage of points that you won up there, or even how well you volleyed. It was about the points you lost—more specifically, it was about your willingness to lose points at net and keep marching forward; to live and die by the serve and volley. Federer himself still doesn’t find it an easy thing to do. Two weeks ago, after net-rushing his way past Novak Djokovic in Shanghai, he admitted that if it hadn’t gone well early, he would have retreated again.

“I was going to try and see if it worked,” Federer said. “If it doesn’t work, I do it less.”

Against Ferrer, Murray remained determined to attack, even in the face of failure. At 3-4 in the third set, he plunked an off-balance forehand volley into the net; but on the first point of the next game, he came in again and showed off his brilliant, underused touch by deftly brushing a backhand half-volley for a winner. On his way back to the baseline, Murray punctuated the moment with a fist-pump.

Later in that game, Murray went for a big forehand and missed it long. The look on his face seemed to say, “Why did I try that?” as if he were urging himself to stay patient. But there was no containing his aggressive side this day. He came right back with a big backhand to win a point and break serve.

Two games later, Murray went after a forehand on the first point and missed it. After pulling his shorts halfway up his thigh in frustration, he hit another big forehand down the line; this time he connected on it for a winner. Murray had his share of help from Ferrer, who couldn’t buy a first serve at the end, and going for his shots may have been the only way Murray was going to beat him. But this was a match that he took from his opponent, in a way that I don’t think I’d ever seen from him against a top player.

“It was very tough,” Murray said afterward, “with lots of long rallies and long games. The third set was very back and forth, so mentally it was quite a tough match for both of us. I managed to be a bit more consistent and aggressive at the end.”

Murray, true to form, emphasized his consistency along with his aggression. But that’s not what won him this match—it was his willingness to be inconsistent, to miss, to take a few lost points and keep coming forward. It was true even in the way he waited for a Hawk-Eye replay. The top guys typically play it cool after they challenge, barely deigning to glance at the video screen before moving on to the next point. In Vienna, Murray couldn’t make himself play it cool; he watched the replay screen like a...well, like a hawk.

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When Andy Attacks

When Andy Attacks

The quest to get to London has brought out a more persistently determined side of Murray, and, in a sense, taken him back to his roots. This week in Valencia he’s entered in his fifth tournament since the U.S. Open, which is more than he’s played in the fall in years. It’s no coincidence that he has also won two of those events, his first titles since Wimbledon in 2013—Muzz is back in battling mode.

It also may not be a coincidence that Murray is playing better and fighting harder at a moment when he has, in many people’s eyes, dropped out of the Big 4. In Vienna, he wasn’t the slick superstar; he was the struggling young striver again, and the role suited him. We’ll see how far he can go in that role, first in Valencia this week, and then as he tries to make his way back up the rankings ladder next year. He may not want to let his hair fly anymore, but if he’s learned anything from this fall, it’s that he’s good enough to let his game fly. And while positive body language has never won a tennis match by itself, it’s never lost one, either.