DAMN IT ALL TO HELL.
I blame Pippa Middleton.
I blame Bjorn Borg and his STOOPID jovialities with Mansour Bahrami being played out between points whilst Murray was out there being flayed alive.
I blame Goran’s quite appalling middle parting.
I blame all those that have the gall to suggest that it all hinged on that one forehand that sailed long at 2-1, 15-30 up in the 2nd set – as if losing the next seven games (that would be three consecutive breaks of the Andy Murray serve) was inextricably tied to one metaphysical moment in space-time.
I blame the BBC and their symbolism overkill in showing a shot of an actual cloud with an actual silver lining.
I blame the anguish, the audacity….
…and the resulting masochistic trauma.
I blame all those who profess the importance of “winning the first set”. Really? Coz in my mind, anyone playing Rafa at Wimbledon (where he’s won his last 20 matches) needs to win not just the 1st, but the 2nd set and possibly even wangle an early break in the third before I even consider breathing easy easier.
I blame Rafa for being too good by half. I blame him for not flinching or ceding an inch.
I blame him for possessing the hand/eye coordination and presence of mind to pull off that ridiculous slide cum racquet-juggle thingimajig, where he somehow avoids injury by landing on his bottom.
I blame him for committing a grand total of only seven UFEs over the course of the entire match – zero in the second set.
I blame all those that appear all too willing to ignore this (and all too eager to rip on Murray instead).
I blame him for being unbearably gracious in both winning and losing ("Andy didn't win a Grand Slam today, but he is much better player than some who won a Grand Slam in past. This is true”)
I blame all those that say: “This is what champions do…”. Sorry, but that means *nothing* to me. Is it meant to make me feel better? Champions also have bad days at the office, champions also get “slamdunked” by the likes of Jo-Wilfried, champions also get mono, champions suffer slumps, champions suffer life-threatening illnesses, champions sometimes step on glass, champions have been known to dabble with class-A drugs, champions also use the pooper. In other words they’re sometimes just like the rest of us. But Rafa wasn’t today.
I blame Rafa’s mum for robbing me of what little remaining composure I’d managed to retain with the way she justly applauded what was very evidently Murray’s last stand, mere seconds before he inevitably, inexorably went crashing out.
I blame all those who said Murray displayed “no energy” out there, but would, undoubtedly, in a flash, have crucified him for baring his fangs if he did show more desire.
I blame all those self-loathing Brits who categorise the best player we’ve had since the 2nd world war as “shit”. No really. “Shit”…..for losing to Rafael Nadal – who hasn’t lost a match here since 2007.
I blame all those that continue to bark on about his “passive play” – but are unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge the guts and resolve needed to play with the type of aggression that is, quite frankly, out of his element and against the natural grain of his game and temperament. So much so that, in his words, he “probably got the balance of aggression and patience wrong…”, and “went too aggressive this time…”
I blame them all.
And I continue to believe, even though I honestly don’t know what the phrase “only a matter of time” OR “too good not to win a Slam” mean anymore. Quite frankly, winning a Slam, at this point, seems anything BUT inevitable – and that seems as good a reason as any to back him.
I will go down with this ship EVERY time he falls short of winning one of these things, unless and until he does. :(
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