Last Time, for Queen and Country. This Time, for Andy.
Yesterday, I wrote about the burden of talent and the effect this has on our pursuit and enjoyment of achievement. The 2016 Wimbledon Championships wrapped up yesterday and Andy Murray decisively won for the second time in front of the home British crowd. Roger Federer will always be my favorite tennis player to watch — I’m not going to cover any new ground waxing on about the grace of his movement or skill of his shot making, so I’ll just say he’s still mesmerizing anytime he’s on the court. Andy Murray has been my second favorite, because despite his world-class talent, there’s something about his flaws and frustrations that makes him far more relatable than the rest of the Big 4. Federer with his impossible ease and natural talent. Djovokic with the obsessive, Eastern European-ness of his training regiment and machinelike consistency. (Pre-injuries) Nadal with his speed, power, and bullwhip forehand.
Murray has as much skill as the other three, but his game is aesthetically more subtle and unlike the other three, whom spectators can only deduce are post-human, Andy is clearly a flawed mortal. He loses concentration. He gets frustrated. He gets in his own head and flustered beyond explanation for a top-level athlete.
Besides the “standard” pressures that are put on almost every high-level athlete who’s been groomed from a very young age, Andy Murray had the unique pressure of being the only British man of this generation with a realistic shot of winning Wimbledon since Fred Perry won in 1936. The nation was starving for it.
A lot of pressure to achieve comes from within, but in our younger years the most intense pressure comes form the well-intentioned hopes and expectations of the people we look up to and don’t want to let down — our parents, teachers, coaches, bosses, and mentors. Andy had the weight of a whole nation bearing down on him palpably every time he stepped onto the courts of Wimbledon. He came so close in 2012, making it to the Final and taking the first set off of Federer before dropping the next three. His unfulfilled desire and emotions stole the show in the trophy ceremony following the match and it was hard not to feel for the guy. But he returned the next year, avenged his loss and any spectator could see that the man was finally free of a very large weight around his neck.
From yesterday:
“Last time [2013], it was just pure relief. It was such a big thing for a British man to win Wimbledon. It’s something you start to think about and put more and more pressure on yourself to do. I didn’t really enjoy the moment as much.”
It’s been three years since then and no more Grand Slam wins for Murray. Not for want of trying, in fact he was playing a lot of great tennis, but kept ending up in Finals against Djovokic, who has been a complete terror to play against for the past several years. Andy himself has alluded to some lapse of desire and purpose following his breakthrough win at Wimbledon, but he ultimately found a reason to do it again and this time, it was purely for his own purposes.
“It is different. I feel happier, more content. You know, I feel like this was sort of more for myself and my team as well.”
Maybe there are certain milestones we feel we have to hit because the world has placed them on our shoulders. There’s a release that comes from that and sometimes a refractory period of aimlessness as we’re stripped of the focus and direction a singular goal provides us. But maybe once we hit this milestone, freeing ourselves from the weight of others expectations and our own fear of if we’ll ever live up to what we’re supposed to be, we are finally able to do things for ourself. And enjoy it.
