Murraymania / Andymonium / Go away, please

Rack another one up for the guest contributors. Today it's Henry Birkbeck's turn. Henry runs a small business customising and painting shoes through his website leshouvre.com. Instead of setting up a petulant, moany website complaining about the world, Henry has done something cool, creative and hopefully profitable with his internet connection. Not that I'm jealous or anything. Regardless I'm not sure I can overstate how frickin cool his custom shoe designs are. Like 'em? Well order a pair of unique, one-of-a-kind, hand painted, individually designed shoes here. Mention you came from Hot Rant and Henry will give you 25% off. Anyway he's taken a break from being annoyingly cool to write up a little rant on the topic of Andy Murray:

Wimbledon – the ol’ SW19. Those currently employed (as well as those who just think tennis is a shit sport) could be forgiven for not being up-to-date on the latest from the All England Club, but given that I watch a lot of daytime TV at the moment, it’s fairly inescapable. This year is perhaps the most exciting in recent memory because Andy Murray, the very embodiment of home-grown Scottish British talent, may almost sort of slightly perhaps have a shot at the Gentlemen’s Singles title. Maybe. And boy, do we like those odds.

It’s not Murray himself who annoys me – he may be a surly, wiry haired Scotsman, but he seems decent enough. No, what gets to me is the press; the relentless broken record that is the British media. At least Henmania was generally tempered by an undercurrent of realisation that Tiger Tim was about as dangerous as a house cat in the Rajasthan jungle; his eyes desperately pleading for approval as he clenched his skinny fist in a futile display of faux agression before again getting whupped. But the general attitude towards this year’s ('Murray's year!' (c) British press, 2009) tournament is borderline ridiculous.

Plain and simply: Britain is not very good at tennis. There once was a man called Fred Perry. Sure, he was great. He won lots. He was British. Unfortunately for us, the last time he won Wimbledon was in 1936. As in, 73 years ago. And no British man has won since. And I know that’s a long time, and we’re all desperately hoping for a Brit to reclaim the men’s title, but seriously, chill out.

Murray has never won a Grand Slam. Yes, he just won Queen’s, but he has a much better track record in smaller tournaments. Yes, he got to the finals of the US Open last September, but in my opinion that was largely a fluke, and he still got pummelled by Federer, who last time I checked, was pretty bloody good. Again, I’ve got nothing against Murray, but I cannot stand the unnecessary hullabaloo that the press is making about his significance.

Case in point: Federer’s pre-Wimbledon 2009 interview with the BBC, in which they ask him (a) “do you expect to play Andy Murray in the final?” and (b) “why do you think Andy Murray has such a good record against you?” Clearly displeased by what he’s been asked, Federer delicately points out that though good, Murray played him when he had back problems and mononucleosis. In other words, he basically said: “I am better, bitch”.

Perhaps these feelings of anger bubbling inside me are not anti-British sentiments, but instead illustrative of my very Britishness: maybe this stuff gets to me because I know Murray probably won’t win, because Brits never win anything (except Olympic cycling), and I’m just trying to be pragmatic and setting myself up for failure. There is also a lot to be said for the rapidly declining British trait of not making a fuss about things. But ultimately, who cares? Really, I just wish Murray was asked more questions like those asked by Jonathan Ross when he interviewed him last summer. My personal favourite: “Are there people, who, because they look a bit funny, it’s hard to play them?” Now that’s what I call sports journalism.
Henry Birkbeck - Le Shouvre: Custom Hand-Painted Shoe Designs