No Hurry Murray

Well with all that Euro football going on we feel we’ve somewhat neglected another of the UK’s major summer sports here on the Spurt, nope it’s not freelance street violence, or taking and driving away convertibles, it is of course that other annual institution of flannelled foolery, Wimbledon.

Now you could be forgiven for dismissing this tennis tourney as an annual middle class love-in or just a very chance to ogle hot blonde Russian teenage girlies in flimsy white dresses, enlivened by the occasional bit of upskirt action (an approach which seems to have found favour with both tabloids and broadsheets alike).

However we if finally came alive for us last night with the epic Gasquet v Murray five set thrilla, in which the ginger Scots sicknote finally shed his ugly duckling feathers and came of age with a stunning performance.

Now Murray’s been a difficult player to like in the past, but here he was all chest beating, bicep flashing Scots Braveheart and finally won over a sceptical crowd with an impassioned never-say-die performance and some exceptional tennis.

The tennis was stunning at times and as Murray roared, Gasquet choked, reduced to some classic Gallic whining and trying to extend his toilet breaks into the murky SW19 twilight.

Murray’s comeback was quite simply thrilling and would have made Lazarus himself turn a slight shade of vermillion.

Nadal and probable elimination awaits in the Quarters, but this is the moment when Murray finally made Wimbledon his own and gave the Henmaniacs a new hero to embrace.

Suddenly a British champion doesn’t seem quite such an impossibility.