WIMBLEDON—This is a relatively quiet place, as sporting venues go, the noise level down to almost zero when points are being played. But three words echoed through Centre Court at every break in the action of Friday’s semifinal match between Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic.
“COME ON ANDY!”
They were delivered by man, woman and child, in every kind of accent imaginable, the arena turned into a British Babel if there ever was one. And—this is no exaggeration—the “Come-Ons” had a kind of tortured register to them. They were pleas more than cheers.
“COME ON ANDY!”
In a slightly more restrained manner, they were delivered outside of Centre Court, too, at the Renshaw and the Wingfield, the two classy restaurants on the grounds, at the strawberry and cream shop, and at the “officials buttery.” “Come on, Andy,” a worker on break whispered at the screen.
Andy Murray, a Scot, is one of Great Britain’s faces of the Games, though his is often a tortured one. He carried the hopes and dreams of his nation into the Olympics before, in 2008, and preceded to lose in the first round to lowly ranked Lu Yen-Hsu, “an unknown bloke from Chinese Taipei,” as one London daily put it.
More famously, Murray has carried them into Wimbledon for five years running, where the Brits have not won in 77 years. He got to the finals there last month and lost, painfully, to Roger Federer in four sets. But with a game performance and a tearful, heartfelt post-match thanks to the crowd, he at last became “our Andy.”
That became further cemented on Friday against the hard-hitting Serbian Novak Djokovic against whom he scored a 7-5, 7-5 victory to earn a spot in Sunday’s gold medal match against—who else?—Federer.
“The support from politicians, celebrities and just people I bump into was overwhelming,” Murray had said earlier in the Games. “I understand that sometimes in the past it wasn’t that easy to get behind me because on the court I didn’t look particularly happy. But during Wimbledon I felt different, like I’d grown up a bit.”
That showed on Friday. Imagine the pressure he felt—the Olympics and Wimbledon all rolled up into one, not to mention the relentless baseliner Djokovic, all those “Come on Andys” ringing in his ears.
But he played brilliantly. And after he broke Djokovic at love in the 12th game of the second set to finish off the win, Murray buried his head in his hands for a moment, then walked to one side of the court, threw a wristband into the stands, walked back and did at the other side. He seemed to be done celebrating but suddenly performed a little jig, Scottish no less.
By then the chant of the crowd had changed, into the most familiar cheer at these Games, the one for the whole of Great Britain.
“GEE-BEE! GEE-BEE!” They were joyous then, but they will turn plaintive and personal on Sunday, as Murray again stares down Federer, the hopes of the nation on his shoulders. No doubt he can almost hear it now.
“COME ON ANDY!”
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