Andy Murray may well be the answer to British tennis prayers - certainly the best thing since pre-World War II bread.

On another sun-baked day in France, Murray bowed out of this year's French Open to a Spanish bullfighter called Nicolas Almagro. But the fact remains that British tennis might have discovered a genuine talent who could go all the way. This may sound like presumptuousness gone mad but Murray, in contrast to his predecessors, looks as if he could become the golden boy of British tennis.

Admittedly we've been this way before and the list of British casualties is long and grisly. Murray, though, possesses that fire-in-the-belly ferocity noticeably lacking in brave Brits of the past.

'Murray possesses that fire-in-the-belly ferocity noticeably lacking in brave Brits of the past'


After years of Tim Henman and deprivation, the British tennis landscape is that much brighter. Henman, as we all know, was all gentlemanly dignity, stiff upper lip and maddening restraint.

The lad from Oxford never seemed willing to let go of those English inhibitions. And when it came to match or break point Henman was about as fired up as a monk in a monastery. Henman retired without so much as a whimper.

For proud Scotsman Andy Murray, tennis is all about gritty resilience and sheer willpower. This is the angry man of tennis, a player of dogged tenacity and downright determination. He is the street-fighter with steel and a mighty serve.

Tennis traditionalists though will weep at the current dress code. Now the fashion gurus among us have long since given up the ghost.

Back in the halcyon 1960s and 1970s the likes of Ken Rosewall and Rod Laver wore gleaming white from head to toe. Jimmy Connors, Bjorn Borg, Chris Evert and Evonne Goolagong were admirable ambassadors of their sport.

Today, tennis has been taken over by designer clothes from hell. At Roland Garros both Murray and his Spanish opponent looked as though they'd just stepped straight out of the local park.

Murray wore a loose Fred Perry navy outfit that looked as if it had been dragged out of the washing box. The cap was more baseball than tennis and nobody had told him about manners. Some might have called him plain scruffy and dishevelled but Murray could represent the future of British tennis.

Nevertheless, for all his fashion faux pas, Murray is essentially a decent and hard-working tennis player. There is a power and purpose about his tennis that might just endear him to his fans. When the odds are stacked against him, Murray is hard headed and ruthless.

Throughout his dust-up on the clay of Ronald Garros, Murray did everything to win over the sceptics. He slapped his racket against his knees as if he had a grudge against all tennis rackets, hurled insults at the net and then had a good old moan at himself.

After more 70 years in the tennis wasteland, British tennis may just have found a treasure chest of jewels. It's too early to make any rash predictions but Andy Murray, dare we say it, could turn into the finished article.