While at Wimbledon I was drawn into the nationalistic fervour surrounding Andy Murray, the 21 year old Scot who was able to battle his way into the semi finals where he was completely, and utterly trounced by Nadal. In the Guardian, they described it this way:

He came, he saw, Nadal kicked his arse. The 21 year old 12th seed had raised British hopes by cruising through the first round: we sat up and looked interested: the second round: we renamed Henman Hill Murray Mount:and the third: we rebranded the Scottish player British. Then he looked like crashing out of the fourth round in straight sets, before staging the most terribly plucky comeback after his opponent had served for the match in the third set.

The crowd roared. Andy roared. He showed his biceps. Through to quarter finals! We felt like a top nation once again. Nadal beat him 6-3, 6-2, 6-4. Never mind. In that increasingly well rehearsed phrase – there’s always next year.

Of course, there is always Laura.

In reading about this phenomenon, what has been very interesting is the tone of the articles. A quick flip through the glorious interweb shows that young Andy has a checkered history and that people find him as charming as a rock. From his declaration that he would support anyone ‘but England’ in the world cup on his blog (which lead to a good old fashioned Scottish vs English battle on his blog) to his well documented tirades and asinine behaviour on and off the court. Universally, people are having a tough time liking the guy and cheering for him ‘despite who he is’.

When I was in the stands, I was caught up in rooting for a Brit to win. However, after only one exposure to his yelling and obnoxious hand pumping after winning each point (Andy – you need something new) I was left with a distinct impression that he is not much of a sportsman. Words like obnoxious, arrogant and spoiled brat come to mind.

Too bad. Go Laura!