Thank goodness for Andy Murray!
Hooray for
Despite being one of the world’s—if not number one—most unlikely possibilities for sportsman turned chat show host, Andy Murray has won through to the second grand slam final of his career, beating one of the funniest named tennis players ever: Monaco born Marin Cilic.
Andy Murray makes me feel proud to be British and he should make you feel proud, too; ever since Tim Henman’s failing legacy—no offence Tim, we know you gave it your best shot, really—there was a very small part of me that couldn’t fathom a Brit ever winning big again, then along comes the Scot, curly hair and new found muscles and all; not only is he in with a strong chance of ending England’s ridiculously embarrassing seventy four year wait for a males grand-slam singles champion, he’s inadvertently turned a whole new generation on to a game which several years ago was ranked just behind tiddly-winks in the English school-playground coolness stakes.
Now is it me, or is a similar trend to several years ago being repeated as I type these words?
Just like in the weeks following smash hit film I Am Legend, where hordes of middle-aged men could be seen gathering around children’s play equipment in the day-time, in the hope of achieving several Will Smyth style pull-ups and being seen as the embodiment of man itself, men and women who never previously even considered tennis as a way of getting fit can be seen taking to courts everywhere, spurred on by Andy Murray. For that the Scot deserves a medal!
But maybe I’m getting too excited too soon, again: if murphy’s law (no pun intended) holds true then Murray will face tennis-terminator Rodger Federer—fifteen time grand-slam winner and very possible chat show host of the future—in the battle to end all battles on Sunday. Whatever happens we should stand behind
I think I have a great suggestion for what we should sort out for Patricio’s birthday bash. Who would be up for a abrupt trip and spending a bit of money on some ski chalet holidays.