It’s Wimbledon time again, a special point in the year when millions of people flood onto tennis courts in order to sharpen their skills for two weeks and emulate their heroes from the television, before depositing their rackets behind the sofa once again. Yet here in the British Isles, the graveyard that is our professional male tennis scene means we only have one man to cheer on. That is, unless you wish to follow the trials and tribulations of the second best tennis player in the United Kingdom, who currently stands tall at 176th in the world rankings.
Enjoy being part of the fold Andy, as our newspapers endlessly build up your chances before cutting you down mercilessly.
So we all get the Union Jack flags out (which are probably still lying around from the Royal Wedding, the dust already having been blown off of them for that festival of patriotism) to cheer on Andy Murray, the surly Great British tennis ace who, thanks to an extremely tough draw, will probably achieve no more than he has so far on the hallowed courts of SW19. If this does indeed come to pass, Murray will go back to being known as the Scottish tennis ace whose disdain for the English national football team and appreciation of his own national identity is seemingly so repugnant. So enjoy being part of the fold for the next fortnight Andy, as our newspapers endlessly build up your chances before cutting you down mercilessly in a few days’ time. At least you and Capello’s men have something in common there.