Icarus the Scot

I’ve just come from watching Andy Roddick, the Yank, beat Andy Murray, the, um, Brit. Actually Murray is a Scot and he even had the chutzpah to tell a BBC interviewer that he’d be hoping England got beaten in some football tournament at the time. Despite that, the British have drowned his Scottishness in their Britishness, so the Centre Court today was awash with fat women wearing union jack hats. And the big question was, would Andy be the first Brit (Scot schmot) to get to the Wimbledon finals in …I dunno – two centuries? As usual, the British media went mad and had him in the final handing out a hiding to Roger Federer, the other finalist, even before Murray had got through the first round. I’ve been here before. I remember a big guy called Roger Taylor (who looked, oddly enough, a bit like the Ulster Unionist John Taylor, who now goes by another name which escapes me at the moment although I do remember the first name is Lord) who was hailed as the saviour of British tennis. (Roger Taylor, that is, not John. John Taylor was hailed as the saviour of the Ulster Unionists once, ach sin sceal eile). And then there was Christine Truman, a big shy gawky young woman with seriously limited talents. Virginia Wade won the tournament, of course, although I always think she’s got a suspiciously Aussie or South African-sounding accent for a Brit. Anyroad, poor old Andy M has just slunk off to lick his wounds and wait for next year. And while I know that those of us who aren’t Adonises ourselves shouldn’t be too critical, isn’t there something about Andy Murray, be he Scot or Brit, which is kind of…unattractive? Wolf-like, even? Maybe it’s the teeth – there’s a hint of pointiness about them. And he never smiles. Let’s not put too fine a point on it: Andy is one mean-looking bastard with an expression if not a face that only a mother could love. Come to think of it, his mother …No, enough already. The poor guy was over-hyped wildly – I read an article a week ago saying they were going to market him until he was the same global level as David Beckham – and now he’ s sure to be feeling the searing heat of a return to Earth. Good try, Andy. And look on the bright side: at least you’re not Tim Henman.

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