A 26-YEAR-OLD Scot has won the gentlemen's singles championship at Wimbledon.
This prosaic sentence fails to do justice to what happened on a patch of grass in south-west London yesterday but there is no apology in this. As Gore Vidal said when felled by a punch from fellow writer Norman Mailer: "Words fail him."
The message is best recounted in the substantial shape of Andrew Barron Murray, a son of Dunblane, who did just not make sporting history at the home of tennis but spoke to the inspiring story of how a genuine Scottish tyro found a way to overcome the odds and prevail after employing a work ethic that screams out in a Caledonian accent.
The statistics will show Murray beat Novak Djokovic of Serbia 6-4, 7-5, 6-4 in three hours nine minutes on Centre Court, but this does not even hint at the magnitude of the achievement or its wonderful oddity.
A Scotsman winning Wimbledon is akin to a Fijian winning the downhill skiing gold at the Winter Olympics and a Muscovite taking the bow as the world's best surfer.
Murray is a phenomenon, a sort of Halley's Comet of tennis. However, the comet is visible from Earth every 75-76 years. Murray, the world No 2, broke a British drought stretching back 77 years to when Fred Perry won the championship.
His journey to the top of world tennis ended on Centre Court yesterday afternoon with a scramble up towards the players' box on a route charted by Pat Cash. Murray asked the tournament referee, Andrew Jarrett, for permission to make those steps, presumably fearing the denizens of south-west London might think he was a nefarious Scot aiming to steal the lead from the roof.
His team were hugged, with a special tribute to Ivan Lendl, his Czech-born coach who won eight grand slams, none of them at Wimbledon.
All this was traditionally celebratory but, in one un-Scottish-like moment, he almost forgot his maw. But he was tellt.
A steward pointed out Judy Murray was sitting behind the players' box. And he jumped into her arms with the realisation this was a journey shared and the fellow travellers may have been numerous, but he has only one maw. She has played an influential part in his success and paid a price in carping criticism. However, this was not an afternoon for recrimination or doleful reflection.
This final step from the grass of the Centre Court to the pinnacle of tennis celebrity and achievement was marked with unmitigated joy in Murray's close circle, in the Centre Court, and beyond.
It was an occasion so unprecedented that when Alex Salmond waved a Saltire in the royal box it seemed perfectly attuned to the surreality of a sunny London afternoon.
The reality is difficult to comprehend. Murray's achievement is almost
impossible to appreciate, his tortuous journey defies accurate mapping.
How does one explain how a hyperactive kid has travelled from playing on synthetic courts under the malign weather elements of Scotland to taking the trophy on the hallowed grass of the All England Club? How does one speak with any authority about the life experience of a lad who hid under a headteacher's desk as carnage ensued in a douce Scottish town?
How does one measure the worth of a young man who left behind kith and kin to travel to Barcelona as a teenager so he could compete at the very top level?
How does one measure the hurt of a shy personality who was constantly maligned with statements questioning his commitment, attitude and ability to win a major.
He has answered all this in a quiet Scottish manner. The victories in the Olympics, the US Open and now Wimbledon speak for themselves.
His bond with Dunblane does not need any overwrought words or incontinent emotion. "I spoke to my grandparents on the phone just now," said Murray shortly after his victory.
"They were watching the match at the local sports club where I grew up playing. It was absolutely packed in there."
His message to his home town?
"Just thanks for always supporting me. I'm glad I managed to win this one for them," he said.
Murray, of course, primarily won Wimbledon for himself and with a bluff Caledonian honesty admitted as much in his interview with Sue Barker, the BBC interviewer.
However, his singular story has a resonance for the community he left and for the sport in which he has made his millions and – more importantly for him – achieved his goals.
The thousands of steps on Centre Court yesterday that ended with Murray on his knees in a mixture of elation and unspeakable relief were all made possible by exhausting runs on training blocks in Miami.
He joked his best achievement may have been to make Lendl, his taciturn coach, smile – before adding: "He just said he was proud of me, which coming from him means a lot. He believed in me when other people did not."
Murray then talked of the value of hard work, the need for honesty in relationships with fellow workers and the lessons learned by a life in tennis.
The sport may not be traditionally linked to Scotland but Murray's sentiments and beliefs were.
"I kept learning and I kept working as hard as I could," said Murray, who lost four grand slam finals before winning in New York.
His historic victory at Wimbledon ensures he lifts £1.6m in prize money he does not need or even crave. The satisfaction comes in a different form. And what is the key to his growth? "I persevered," he said.
A 26-year-old Scot has won the gentlemen's singles championship at Wimbledon.
But was it just those inside Centre Court who benefited from a Scottish education who thought of a fellow countryman with the name of Bruce and his legendary experience with a spider?
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