WHEN Andy Murray first tried his hand at tennis, his mother identified in him a special quality.
As a tournament professional in the late 1970s, her priority had been to avoid defeat, but here was a lad whose only ambition was to win. To this day, he has that same aggressive approach, fuelled by a genetic drive that sports psychologists describe
as "inner rage". Add to that his natural talent, as well as a childhood spent in the company of a qualified coach, and it is clear that circumstances have conspired to produce a complete one-off.
The 22-year-old, who yesterday saw his bid to become the first British man to win Wimbledon since 1936 thwarted at the semi-final stage, is not a product of the system. Like most of the players who do well in British tennis, he was born into the game. Judy Murray, the former national coach, is the Lawn Tennis Association's talent and performance manager in Scotland. Her mother, Shirley Erskine, also was handy with a racket. Her father, Roy, played football for Hibs. By nature or nurture, Andy has inherited sporting excellence, like his brother Jamie, who won the 2007 mixed doubles title at Wimbledon.
In Britain, and more so Scotland, Murray is an exception to the rule. While the country of his birth is rather better at tennis than it used to be – not difficult, you might say – fans would be well advised not to read too much into it. Scotland can congratulate itself on producing the world No3, but its next representative on the list is Linlithgow's Colin Fleming, ranked 493. Elena Baltacha is the British No2, ranked 106 in the world, but she is another special case, born in Ukraine of athletic parentage. Her exit last Thursday made Murray the only one of 11 British entrants to survive beyond the second round at Wimbledon.
None of which will be changed overnight. Even if Murray's exploits trigger an explosion of unprecedented interest, the result will not be a conveyor belt of successors. In golf, Bernhard Langer broke the mould in Germany, winning two Masters titles, and topping the world rankings, but none of his young compatriots has threatened to do the same. Soccer was supposed to take off in the United States after it hosted the 1994 World Cup, but it never quite happened. In both countries interest has grown, as has participation, but the stars align just once in a blue moon.
Murray's success can only be good for tennis in Scotland, which doesn't mean that the country will be turning Wimbledon tartan in years to come. If he inspires more people to play the game, especially those hitherto alienated by its snooty image, he will have been effective. If he brings about more demand, more strength in depth, and more facilities to cope with it, the inspiration will come from new role models, players created by the system rather than by a twist of fate.
More Colin Flemings, for example. More Jamie Bakers. Fleming, a 24-year-old from West Lothian, played for Britain in a recent Davis Cup match at Glasgow's Braehead Arena, where hundreds of Scottish schoolchildren were in the crowd. Baker, a 23-year-old Glaswegian, has been hampered by health problems, but he knows what it is to play at Wimbledon, and has been as high as 211 in the world. Realistically, the aim is not to produce another Murray, but to produce another 100 of those working in his slipstream.
Consistency can be manufactured, but there is no legislating for greatness, which is why all this should be enjoyed while it lasts. Even if Murray inspires a new generation of wannabes, some of whom go on to play at the highest level, we may never see his like again.
