On the court on which he has left the contents of his stomach and played some of the most inspired tennis of his life, Andy Murray was content just to strike the ball with a real purpose yesterday. Feeling his way back into the sporting mainstream, Murray won his first-round match at the US Open in a manner that will have reverberated through the locker-room like an electrical surge.
Murray’s 6-2, 6-3, 6-0 victory over Pablo Cuevas, a Uruguayan qualifier, was his first in a grand-slam tournament since he defeated Juan Ignacio Chela, of Argentina, in the third round of the Australian Open on January 20. That seems half a lifetime ago, during which time the 20-year-old from Dunblane has endured more misfortunes with his body, only for the setbacks to have hardened his mental resolution.
“It’s quite hard to describe my emotions because when you don’t play for such a long time at an acceptable level, it’s tough to stay positive,” Murray said. “That result means so much to me more than a lot of results I had earlier in the year.”
You did not need a degree in sports psychology to appreciate what this small step meant for the British No 1. He sat for a good minute in his chair at the end of the match which was watched by Roberto Forzoni, the Italian psychologist with whom he has been working in deep contemplation. For him to emerge in the second round in which he will play Jonas Björkman, the oldest man in the draw at 35 is a considerable relief, as is the fact that the right wrist he flexed as he walked back from changeovers stayed rock-like in both defence and attack.
With Murray, who is a master of subtleties and spins, it is difficult to know whether the fact that he did not strike out forcefully that often was a sign of weakness or, more likely, that he neither needed nor wanted to show his hand too quickly on what is another in a long line of comebacks from physical trial. It helps the mindset to be in familiar surroundings and that is undeniably true of the intimate Grand-stand Court at Flushing Meadows.
In the first round here two years ago, against Andrei Pavel, of Romania, Murray reacted violently to a sharp intake of his liquid refreshment, was sick on the court before winning in five sets. A year later, in the third round against Fernando González, of Chile, he played one of the finest five-set matches of his life. He did not know what to expect, either from himself or Cuevas, the world No 129, who had defeated Jamie Baker, his fellow Scot, in the final round of qualifying.
His first trademark “Yeh” the sharp shout he gives when a shot feels particularly right came in the second game of the match, a set in which the only blemish was a serving horror in the seventh game. When he resisted putting away his first overhead at the start of the second set, preferring to let the ball bounce and then sweep it into court, one wondered if he harboured doubts, but by the end of that set and in the third, he was thumping them into the crowd, once finding Brad Gilbert, his coach.
Watching closely, John Lloyd, the Great Britain Davis Cup captain, looked mightily relieved. When he named his squad yesterday morning for next month’s World Group qualifier against Croatia, he feared that Mario Ancic would be part of the opposition. Then came news that Ancic was forfeiting his place here because of a small fracture of his shoulder and will miss the tie altogether.
Lloyd’s round of golf on Sunday was interrupted when a familiar face and distinctive hairstyle came riding into view on his initialised cart. Donald Trump, the billionaire real estate developer and host of The Apprentice, the American forerunner to Sir Alan Sugar’s replica on the BBC, was touring one of his signature courses and is a long-time friend of Lloyd, who often plays in the pro-am tennis events at Trump’s parties.
“Who’s this guy?” Trump asked of one of Lloyd’s playing partners. “That’s Jamie Baker, a decent golfer,” Lloyd replied, upon which the Scot promptly duffed three successive shots in the rough. Baker was named in the Davis Cup team with Murray, his brother, Jamie, and Tim Henman, for his sentimental farewell.
