Posts in category "sport"

Andy Murrays hopes of lifting his first major were thwarted by defeat yesterday in the last 16 of the US Open to Croat, Marin Cilic.

I like Andy Murray. I don't think he's a dour individual. I think he's a very talented tennis player who is focused and determined. I admire the fact he coped with being sent to live in Spain at the age of 15 to improve his tennis.

Occasionally, I have even stalked him by scanning his Twitter stream. Yes, it's genuine.

I'm not a pathetic 'Little Englander' who hates Andy Murray simply because he once said 'anyone but England' on radio 5 during the 2006 World Cup. I thought it was a funny response during an amusing exchange of banter with the interviewer, fellow Scot Nicky Campbell, and his English friend, Tim Henman. Each and every one of my Scottish friends would have said precisely the same thing.

Since my own lad started playing junior tennis at a competitive level, my admiration for what Murray has already achieved (No.2 in the world) has increased ten fold. However, the real reason I believe Andy Murray will win a major tennis tournament in the not too distant future stems from an incident a couple of years ago.

I was watching my son play in a junior Surrey tennis competition held at the National Tennis Centre in Roehampton. I was walking around the 22 courts, admiring the excellent facilities and killing time before he played his first match.

I walked along a balcony overlooking four, immaculate indoor courts. Andy Murray was warming up with his coaching team. They were playing keepy-uppy with a tennis ball and generally messing around. As word got round the complex that Murray was present, a small crowd of aspiring young tennis players and their doting parents gathered to watch.

I was surprised at the sheer number of people in the Murray entourage. After ditching Brad Gilbert, Murray now employs Miles Maclagan (coach), Matt Little (strength and conditioning coach), Jez Green (physical conditioner) and Andy Ireland (physio).

Once the warmup was complete, the laughter stopped and Murray started doing serious tennis drills. He was rallying from the baseline with his coach. I watched in awe as he repeatedly and monotonously hit shots from the baseline low and hard over the net.

Each shot was powerful and landed just within the baseline or even on the line. I soon realised that that's why tennis players knock up (or 'hit') with fellow professionals. Most mortals or even decent club players would be incapable of taking part in this drill.

Murray continued his exercises. He didn't acknowledge the people watching. In fact, I'm pretty sure he wasn't even aware of our presence. He was solely focused on hitting that ball.

Another rally started. Murray continue to hit ball after ball low and hard over the net. Occasionally, he'd readjust his position to reach to a shorter or wider shot but he kept on returning the ball. Slowly but surely, the pace of the rally and the variety of shots increased. Now Murray was exerting himself but he kept on hitting balls back like a machine - low and hard, each shot just skimming over the net at great speed.

Finally, the rally came to an end when Murray netted a baseline shot. He shouted 'Oh - for fuck's sake. COME ON !'.

Some of the parents assembled on the balcony looked aghast and told Jocasta to shield her ears from such Scottish profanity and gently suggested it was time to get a drink while I just continued to watch on in admiration.

The latest update in this occasional and very popular series.

I am currently working in the delightful city of Bern, near Switzerland. I have been here a couple of times before and last April I watched United beat Barcelona 1-0 in the Champions League semi-final thanks to a great goal from Paul Scholes.

Unusually for me, I watched that game with a colleague. Unfortunately for him, I don't think I was very good company. Well, I mean - who really wants to discuss whether 'late delivery of the extracts pose a serious risk to the success of the project' when you're watching your team play in the crucial second leg of the European Cup semi-final.

Anyway, last night I returned to the same haunt to see United take on the Barcodes at St James' Park. The venue for the night's entertainment was Mr. Pickwick which is a sports bar with the obligatory football scarves and photographs adorning the walls, serving English beer (London Pride) and Guinness with three large TV screens.

I wasn't entirely confident that the United game would be televised as I knew it wasn't being shown by Sky or Setanta back in dear ol' Blighty. As I enter the hostelry, it doesn't look too promising; football is being shown but, alas, the TV's are only showing 'Young Boys of Bern' and highlights from the German Bundesliga.

I confidently order my customary pint of 'Feldschlosschen' and enquire if there's any chance the United game will be on. The helpful gentleman behind the bar tells me 'Oh yes - Manchester will be on at 9 o'clock'. He then rather unhelpfully short-changes me by 10CHF which I successfully challenge.

OK - so it's 19:43, the match kicks off at 19:45 and we're going to get the United game in 15 minutes. So I grab a barstool and nervously kill time, watching 'Young Boys of Bern' play in front of a very meagre crowd (10, 758)

For some reason, I find the 'Young Boys of Bern' a very amusing name for a football club. It is also fitting and somehow appropriate that the 'Young Boys' play their home fixtures at the 'Wankdorf Stadium'.

If United hadn't been playing tonight, I might have actually gone to see the game as I have now mastered the (very efficient) public transport system in Bern. However, the prospect of getting lost and asking a local 'Where can I find Young Boys, please ?' was not an attractive one.

At 9 o'clock, multiple remote controllers appear from behind the bar, TV channels are switched and we all play musical chairs as we jostle for a decent viewing position for our chosen match.

To my horror, I see that United are losing 1-0 to Newcastle after Chelsea and Liverpool both won the previous night. I console myself by ordering another beer. Ten minutes later, normal service is restored when John O'Shea rampages forward (shurely shome mistake here - Ed) and crosses for Rooney who turns sharply to equalise.

I spot the Newcastle owner, Mike Ashley, sitting in the stand. This must be his first visit to St James' Park since he sacked Keegan and necked that pint in 12 seconds flat for the TV cameras. I sincerely hope the loud United following greet him with the traditional 'Come to see United, you've only come to see United'.

Half-time arrives and, much to my surprise, I see Edwin van der Sar drop a clanger for Newcastle's opening goal. Kind of ironic after his brilliant, record breaking run of clean sheets.

Newcastle are playing pretty well but United are in control and always look threatening. United take the lead when Park crosses to give the classy Dimitar Berbatov a simple tap-in.

Over on an adjacent TV screen, 'Young Boys' have triumphed 3-0 in a cup quarter-final. 10 minutes later, supporters who have been to the game drift in for the post-match analysis and a couple of drinks.

The YB fans are clad in club colours; Yellow and Black - hardly any of them are 'Young Boys', more like 'Middle Aged Men With Beards'. I am forced to gawp at one man who comes in with a YB shirt adorned with the unbelievable slogan 'Young Boys Forever'. A brave man. I truly hope for his sake, YB never qualify for Europe and he travels to the away leg in England.

Better still, imagine if BSCYB were to meet Chelsea in the UEFA Cup next season. Then we would have the dream fixture - 'Rent Boys' versus 'Young Boys' !

Next fixture: MUFC versus Milan, Wednesday 11 Match. Location: Madrid.

personalities.

Even UK students couldnt be bothered to mount their annual, oh so amusing, campaign for Beth Tweddle.