In an Edinburgh park, shortly before shooting an unsuspecting dog in the backside with an air rifle, Sick Boy imparts his philosophy to Renton. “At one point you’ve got it. Then you lose it and it’s gone for ever. All walks of life. George Best, for example. Had it, lost it. Or David Bowie, Lou Reed. Charlie Nicholas, David Niven, Malcolm McLaren, Elvis Presley.”
“So, we all get old, we cannae hack it any more and that’s it? That’s your theory?”
“Yeah.”
Andy Murray? The acute impact of serious injury on his body makes the Sick Boy analysis overly simplistic but the overarching rationale is not completely wild. Just do not dare mention the Trainspotting analogy to Murray.
These are troubled times for one of Britain’s greatest ever sportsmen. By his own assessment, Murray finds himself in a “terrible moment” after a first-round defeat to Benoît Paire, the world No 112, in the Open Sud de France. Murray exited the Australian Open at an identical point; six of his past seven tournament appearances have resulted in a round-one loss. The 36-year-old has not been beyond the third round of a grand slam event since 2017. All evidence points to an outstanding career that is grinding towards a halt. If people were not questioning Murray’s longevity, there would be something amiss.
Not that Murray is of a mind to accept such an assessment. A midweek column from Kheredine Idessane, BBC Scotland’s tennis correspondent, prompted social media fury from the three-time grand slam winner. “It’s been an incredible journey by a remarkable man,” said Idessane. “And such a privilege to bear witness to large parts of it.” What followed was a completely inoffensive opinion piece by a completely inoffensive individual. One sentence riled Murray: “At what point does bravely soldiering on start to damage his legacy?”
The language was perhaps clumsy but the notion of a sportsperson remaining in situ way beyond what is healthy for themselves or a public who have to watch from between fingers isn’t a novel one. Think Ian Rush at Wrexham or Billy Casper shooting 106 in the 2005 Masters. Picking an opportune moment to bow out is important because, in the modern world, people have short memories.
“Tarnishing my legacy?” Murray posted. “Do me a favour. Most people would quit and give up in my situation right now. But I’m not most people and my mind works differently. I won’t quit. I will keep fighting and working to produce the performances I know I’m capable of.
“I’m not most people,” he said. No, he is a tennis player. An exceptional one – who has incentivised millions who otherwise cannot differentiate between deuce and juice to focus on this sport for a few weeks per year – but a tennis player nonetheless. Assessing one’s own “legacy” feels a dangerous rabbit hole to go down.
In 2019 Murray in effect announced his own retirement. The scale of his physical and psychological distress, chronicled in the excellent documentary Resurfacing, made his subsequent comeback appear against all odds. Yet the reality is retirement was hardly an alien concept to him. It was not, either, in December when he admitted: “It could be the last year, yes.” This all rather makes Tuesday’s outburst a puzzling one unless the subtext is that Murray and Murray alone can pontificate on his own future.
There are various strands to this. Murray should be encouraged to use his social media account to offer authentic opinion. His ridicule of Nigel Farage and caustic comment on Brexit was widely celebrated. He is also perfectly entitled to object to the column in question: as the subject of it, that would entirely be his right. Murray’s competitive instinct clearly remains intact. Prickliness is fine; or even a Scottish trait. Murray’s apparent desire to plough on, in such a physically demanding sport where so many players are younger and fitter, is admirable. Tiger Woods only had to worry about the hills of Augusta National during his redemption tale of 2019. Murray has guys battering 120mph serves at him.
Murray should, however, remember he has been hero-worshipped by most elements of the British media since shooting to prominence. When he curses and rants his way through Wimbledon matches, the BBC turns the other cheek. His actions just now were of a man not at all used to even mild criticism. By tagging Murray into his article, Idessane knew he was inviting reply. Whether it was clever for a sporting icon with 3.5m followers on X to allow the pile-on which followed is up for debate.
More striking – and not in a good way – was the desire of famous faces to revel in Murray’s post. They had to bow at the feet of Saint Andy. “DON’T GIVE IN TO THE HATERS!” It was vomit-inducing. Irvine Welsh, who wrote Trainspotting, leapt to his fellow Scot’s defence. Sharron Davies did the same. Martina Navratilova piped up. Andy Roddick seemed especially perplexed. “Imagine telling an accomplished iconic adult your opinion on what they should choose for work and when they should do it,” wrote the former US Open champion. “This is such a dumb, thirsty article. Can’t take a legacy away. Accomplishment lives forever.” Roddick must live in a horribly sheltered world where external analysis of athletes contrary to their own is prohibited. Presumably he had bothered to read the offending 696 words, which showered appropriate praise on Murray’s achievements.
Wimbledon next year will mark 20 years since Murray first participated in the championships. There sits a natural point of closure to an outstanding run. It is just that getting to that point currently looks a formidable challenge. Nobody should be taking umbrage about pointing out this patently obvious fact. Murray’s acolytes do him no favours whatsoever.
