Over the years we had seen glimpses of what Andy Murray’s game could look like in all of its various brilliance. Those moments hadn’t lasted as long as we might have liked; the man with every shot and a few more had always favored practicality over genius, defense over offense, the solid over the flamboyant, the negative over the positive. But he had also never played for a gold medal in front of his home fans on Centre Court against Roger Federer. Today Murray let it all out, and it all worked.
Murray’s more aggressive playing style and mindset began, from what I could see, in his semifinal with Novak Djokovic. He went after his backhand as if it were a forehand, and he went after his forehand as if it were...a modern forehand. It will never be a natural putaway shot the way it is for his fellow members of the Big 4—yes, the “Big 4” is officially a term again—but this time Murray stuck with it even when it misfired, something he hadn’t always been willing to do in the past. Along with his game, his body language was more positive than it normally is. Backed by the cheers of “GB” and the sight of Union Jacks and Scottish flags surrounding him, playing for country and family rather than just himself, he took that match to Djokovic rather than letting it come to him. And that attitude spilled over into the final.
At 1-1 in the first set today, I wrote in my notebook, “AM going after FH,” and that would be one of the big stories of this stunningly short and one-sided match. He would end up hitting the same number of winners with with his forehand, eight, as Federer would with his, a stat that few would have thought possible, and which could only spell doom for Federer. But Murray was sharp with everything today. Shots of his stick in the mind: A flick backhand pass on the run; a ripped forehand crosscourt return; great gets made while skidding across the cracked dirt along the baseline; a gritty service winner to save a break point.
But even a match that Murray won 6-2, 6-1, 6-4 had its crucial moment, its potential turning point that he refused to let turn. Up 2-0 in the second set, Murray faced six break points. Federer, who had been sluggish at best up to that stage, needed to make a stand, and he did his best. At Wimbledon last month, this was the point where the match had swung for Federer, but this time Murray stuck with his aggressive forehand, which he used to fight off two of those break points, and he saved another with a shot even he wasn’t sure he owned, a reflex backhand volley winner hit with a makeshift grip—a smiling Murray later credited his recent mixed-doubles play with getting him ready for that shot.
This time it was Murray who stayed tough through a long game, while Federer finally cracked. On his sixth and last break point, Federer rifled a signature forehand return, one he had rifled for thousands of winners over the years. It went in the net. When Murray held a minute later for 3-0, he had survived his last serious test.
What about Federer? He looked fine at the very beginning, but it quickly became apparent that this wasn’t his day. The biggest challenge for an aging player is recovering after long matches, and Federer, after his 4-hour semifinal with Juan Martin del Potro and a week of packed play, had a lot to recover from. He made 31 unforced errors, was 0 for 9 on break points, and didn't have his trusty first serve to bail him out when he needed it. There were a few “Come ons!’ and tentative fist-pumps along the way, and he did force Murray to serve it out, but by the third set Federer had trouble keeping any ball in the court. For the first time that I can remember, he stared up at his player’s box after a netted return, as if to ask, “What is going on out here?”
In the future, this day may look like tennis’s version of the 1966 World Cup, which England won in London—a moment when everything came together, and a moment that was never forgotten. Everything came together for Murray, and it was interesting that this player who has often been at odds with his home country’s tennis system—at odds with authority in general—would thrive in this more populist, sporting atmosphere on Centre Court. Playing doubles and now mixed doubles, Murray had caught the Olympic spirit, the spirit of his country, and it pushed him past the doubts that have always plagued him, that had plagued him against this same player on this same court a month ago.
When Murray stepped up to serve for the gold medal, he had hit justn three aces in the three sets. He knew Federer, despite how poorly he had played to that point, wasn’t going to go away. So Murray, rather than let the game come to him this time, took it away from Federer. At 15-15, he hit a service winner up the middle. At 30-15, he hit an ace out wide, one that made Federer’s head drop. At 40-15, Murray said he could feel the adrenaline pumping everywhere in the building, and that it added “a few miles per hour” to his final serve. He looked once more at Federer, a player who had stood in his way so many times in the past, and tossed the ball. When it thudded against the purple back tarp a second later, it was all chalk, and pure gold.