Over the next 30 days, we'll examine one of tennis' most important numbers from a variety of perspectives. First, an assessment of world No. 1 Andy Murray, who turns 30 today.
It doesn’t take much imagination to come up with some gag birthday gifts for Andy Murray, who turns 30 today. How about a nice shooting jacket and tweed plus-fours, now that he’s officially Sir Andrew Barron Murray, OBE? A year’s supply of Pup-Peroni dog treats for his two border terriers? Maybe a tanning bed?
It’s easy to think along these lines because Murray is that rarity in tennis these days, a character. What you see is what you get. He wouldn’t know hair conditioner from toothpaste, and he has the fashion sense of a skateboarder. If Charles Schulz were still alive, he might create a character modeled on Murray in his popular comic strip, Peanuts. “Andy” undoubtedly would have plodded around with a perpetual dark cloud over his head.
For much of Murray’s career, the image would not have been misleading. But it’s different now. Murray has been living in perpetual sunshine.
Presently ranked No. 1, every potential setback for Murray seems to get offset. Lose in the fourth round of the Australian Open to unheralded Mischa Zverev? Who cares? Novak Djokovic, the defending champion and only player in a position to snatch the top ranking from Murray, was already long gone. Come down with shingles after that? It’s a bummer, but Roger Federer just announced that he’s not playing on tour until the French Open, if then. Bad elbow in March? Djokovic has the same problem.
What is this, sympathy tennis-elbow syndrome?