Andy Murray looked good against Ryan Peniston, but he's in for a tougher test. Photo: AP/Alberto Pezzali
Somehow, Andy Murray is still breaking records, even though they tend to be his own these days. Losing just four games to Ryan Peniston, it was statistically his most competitive first-round game in his 18-year Wimbledon career. So much for him, exhausting before a match because he always shows up on Center Court too late to see his kids before bed. Here he beat his compatriot so that he could return in time to cook dinner for them and read them a bedtime story.
You're really wondering if Murray was being ironic when he asked about his traditional tea time schedule, which was all designed to maximize BBC viewing. After all, his endurance is so bizarre that even the night porters had already gone home by the time he saw Thanasi Kokkinakis off in Melbourne at 4:05 am. However, after talking about the loneliness of life on tour, he seeks the comforts of home whenever he gets the chance. And for a change, for a man who has a habit of delaying the 10 o'clock news with his evening epics on the grass, the Six have sorted it all out.
The whole thing was oddly nostalgic, watching Murray lead a match in a way that you never doubted in outcome. Perhaps the last time he performed so self-confidently on this stage was in 2016, and we all know how it ended. When asked on the court if he was more confident than ever since his second Wimbledon title, he did not protest, saying: “I'm ready for a good game.”
So, to be honest, the tournament and tennis in general. The feeling of interregnum is palpable at Wimbledon this year in the men's draw. The king is gone, and Roger Federer has switched to ceremonial splendor in cream suits at the Royal Box. Also missing is Rafael Nadal, who seems to barely remember being still in contention for the calendar Grand Slam 12 months ago. Yes, 20-year-old Carlos Alcaraz has the necessary Spanish muscles, but Wimbledon is where established aristocrats are glorified. Officials are desperate despite inadvertently excluding him from their promotional work so that Murray will rekindle the old fire.
A sober look suggests this is unlikely given that he is expected to face world No. 5 Stefanos Tsitsipas in the second round. But how about dropping the ratings for a second and doing a more romantic prediction? Tsitsipas has a terrible track record on grass for a player of his talent, only once finishing in the last 16. He also lost on Court No. 2 to Dominic Thiem while battling a career-threatening wrist injury before it started to rain. If Murray beats either Tim or Tsitsipas, both top finalists, his potential third-round opponent would be Ben Shelton, a talented but gentle man who had never traveled outside the United States before becoming a quarter-finalist at the Australian Open in January. In addition, the nation can dare to dream.
Murray thinks he can still call for encore fame
Not that Murray owes anyone anything. He has already become a Wimbledon icon, satisfying the nation's most relentless sporting lust with two triumphs in four years. But somewhere in this complex competitive psyche, there is an unquenchable thirst. The reason he still hasn't joined Federer on the swanky courtside is that he still believes he can “go deep,” as it were, in the place where he created his legend. That's why he maintains his itinerant touring existence with four children under the age of seven. That's why he still competes in the low-key Challenger events, just to give himself hope for seeding. He thinks he can still create a great encore at times like this.
Reassuringly, no one has yet needed to ask about his metal thigh. This is because he insists that he is in excellent condition, without any pain or stiffness. The authority with which he pushed back Peniston was a happy omen on this front. In Australia, he received universal acclaim for his two Herculean five-set throws, but by the third round, he was reduced to an exhausted husk. This time, he still has to put in unnecessary effort to save his body for even more grueling tests.
Murray inevitably belongs to the iconography of the sports summer. In a year without both Federer and Nadal for the first time in a quarter of a century, Wimbledon wouldn't feel like Wimbledon without Murray's first self-reproach, or his mother Judy's first soft fist, or his wife Kim's perfectly blow-dried hair. It is a heavy burden of waiting for one person, except that he assumes that he would have no other way. Maintaining his record by never losing here in the first round, he reflected on how oppressive the humidity was for him as he heard every drop of rain drumming on the roof above.
It's a feeling he hopes to never experience. for granted. On the most respected sports court, he has accumulated a mass of emotions that generate nervous energy every time he steps on the grass. He turns it in many ways, sometimes against himself, sometimes against his long-suffering support team, but always in the service of the grand quest for Wimbledon's last wonder. It is sometimes said that the best champions should leave as soon as they can no longer think about winning. Few people would dare to ask Murray about it in such a mood.
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