ANDY MURRAY

No British male tennis player has won one of the four major championships since Fred Perry took the U.S. Open in 1936. So excitement was high amongst British tennis fans, when Scotsman Andy Murray early this morning played against Serbian Novak Djokovic in the final of the Australian Open. Why then, as a British tennis fan, was I rooting for Djokovic, particularly since he had knocked out my perennial favourite Roger Federer in the semi-finals?

It's not as if Murray is no good. He is consistently ranked fourth in the world, behind Rafael Nadal, Federer and Djokovic, and has won a string of tournaments and even more money. Yet his on-court demeanour is, to me at least, intensely irritating. It is not because he gets pumped up; virtually all tennis players except the exceptionally elegant Federer do that these days. But he looks grumpy all the time, surly even, and some of his braying facial expressions seem more to resemble a gnu in the mating season. Moreover, his "support team", led by his mother, is way over the top. Passion for sport is one thing; but passion expressed in that way is another.

A year ago, in my first ever blog, I predicted that Murray would never win a Grand Slam tournament. Today's performance, in which he was roundly beaten by Djokovic in straight sets, confirmed me in that view. Outgunned physically in the first set, he should have changed tactics, using his volley (where is better than his opponent) to shorten the rallies and save energy. But he continued in the same way, choosing to challenge Djokovic on his terms, namely his fitness, and running into a brick wall. It was never going to work.

Murray has now appeared in three Grand Slam finals and lost all three. Worse, he has lost all three in straight sets. As the time since the last British major winner gets longer and longer, the pressure will mount, just as it did with Tim Henman, the last British tennis hero. Henman never won a Grand Slam; I still think Murray won't either.

Walter Blotscher