Andy Murray silences his critics again, this time for good, with Wimbledon victory

Andy Murray posing with his long-cherished trophy

If you’re an Andy Murray fan, your first reaction on seeing Murray win the Wimbledon final against Novak Djokovic today was probably not of joy or relief. No; the first thing that probably came to your mind as Murray sank to the grass after winning championship point was, “All of his doubters can now take a hike!”

That’s how it always has been with Murray, and likely how it always will be. The air of negativity, of vindictiveness, of painful cussedness will never leave him or his game, and will keep casting a pall of darkness over everything that he does. When he loses, he takes everyone down with him as he spirals into a morose well of manic self-deprecation. And when he wins, he makes everyone want to hurl abuses – either at him if you don’t support him, or with him if you do.

Despite all the darkness constantly surrounding him though, Murray had – quite literally – his day in the sun today. Under the bright skies on Centre Court today, Murray put paid to the idea that he doesn’t belong in the vaunted group called the ‘Big 4′. And if you think his constant struggles with his inner self or his predisposition towards playing ‘reactive’ tennis is in any way a knock on him as a player, I’d like to see you try telling that to the scores of Brits jumping up and down in celebration right now.

It was a wait that lasted 77 years, and you might even be tempted to think that every moment of that wait was relished by those suffering it. There always seemed to be a perverse joy in the words of the British journalists as they bemoaned the inability of their homegrown players to triumph at Wimbledon. Both the joy and the suffering were, of course, magnified in the case of Murray. Every word that he spoke, every move that he made, every shot that he hit, was analyzed and dissected with an enthusiasm bordering on the obsessive, even if the dissectors didn’t always like what they saw. It was always a party when Murray took to his yearly routine of trying to win Wimbledon; a party filled with laments and doleful sighs, but a party nevertheless.

All of that has changed now, of course. By putting on a dazzlingly emphatic performance on the biggest stage in the world of tennis, Murray has in one swift stroke eliminated the biggest storyline that has dominated the sport in the last few years. The ghost of Fred Perry may still haunt him at the Australian and French Opens, but from now on, it will likely be a friendly wisp of smoke rather than a chillingly terrifying spectre.

Should we have seen this coming? Murray had been the best player in the world during the second half of the season last year, a half played predominantly on fast courts. He had come into this tournament on the back of another triumph at Queen’s, and his dismantling of Roger Federer in the Olympics gold medal match, his last best-of-five sets match on grass, was still fresh in everyone’s minds. Djokovic, on the other, hand, moves worse on grass than he does on any other surface, and was probably still recovering from his marathon semifinal match against Juan Martin del Potro, not to mention the mental after-effects of his crushing loss to Rafael Nadal at the French Open. Why did we consider Djokovic as the favourite before the match began, then?

Probably because nothing about Murray is ever as straightforward as it seems. He doesn’t defeat you with outright power or relentless aggression or finesse at the net (although he is certainly capable of that last part). Instead, he defeats you by drawing you out of your comfort zone and making you play the game on his terms, which always makes proclaiming him as the favourite to win anything a bit of an iffy proposition. Occasionally, he will blast a crosscourt forehand or launch a rocket first serve to make you think twice about the whole ‘doesn’t-defeat-you-with-power’ idea. But immediately after that he will revert to his steady, subtle changes of pace and nifty sliced backhands, and the opponent will be tied up in knots for no discernible reason.

Djokovic did have a bit of an off-day today, specially with his serve and forehand. But even if his forehand had been clicking, it is hard to imagine him gaining too much traction in the forehand-to-forehand exchanges – that’s how good Murray’s crosscourt forehand has become. The Scot brought a world of pain on Djokovic with his sharply-angled, laser crosscourt forehands, and after a point I actually started wondering why this shot was ever considered Murray’s weakness. His down-the-line and inside-out forehands still need a bit of work, but on a fast court, his crosscourt forehand may actually be among the best in the world right now. For a player whose forehand has been derided for much of his career, that is saying something.

Some things about Murray’s game remain stubbornly underwhelming. His second serve is still a bit of a powder puff shot, his reluctance to go down the line with his backhand often prolongs points unnecessarily, and his tendency to descend into self-abuse at every missed shot continues to make the sport look less like a form of entertainment and more like a tool of torture. But just like he did at the US Open, Murray won despite these deficiencies, which makes me think: if these flaws couldn’t stop him in London and New York, is there any reason to expect them to do so elsewhere?

The match today may have lacked the quality of the final last year or even the thrill of Murray’s first Major triumph at the US Open, but it certainly didn’t lack in drama. There was history on the line and a noisy, biased crowd to witness that potentially epoch-making moment, which made the whole afternoon seem a bit like a wild, carnival-like coronation.

All of the drama reached a crescendo in the final game, with Murray serving for the championship at 5-4 in the third set. He reached three match points at 40-0, and the applause in the stadium almost brought the Centre Court roof down. Of course, that was precisely the moment that Djokovic decided to really wake up. Suddenly, the Serb couldn’t miss; blazing returns and blistering forehands erupted all over Murray, and before the crowd could collectively take in their breath, Murray was facing break point.

Novak Djokovic rushing to congratulate Andy Murray after the match

If Djokovic had managed to break Murray in that game, we might have been extolling him for the greatest come-from-behind victory of his career right now. But Murray’s maturity as a player and performer were exemplified to perfection in the way he reacted to the situation. He remained calm, about as calm as I’ve ever seen him be, took his time to shake off the nerves, and remained perfectly, courageously steady with his play. Yes, his second serve became even slower and loopier than normal in that critical game, but he put it in the box and refused to throw away a point, and that’s all that matters in hindsight.

Two more break points came and went after that first one, and eventually Murray found his way to championship point for a 4th time. And all this while, he remained calm, even as the crowd were going bananas. It was a kaleidoscope of emotions: Murray trying his hardest to keep his nerves in control, and the spectators trying their best to audibly will him to the finish line.

This time, he didn’t miss the first serve, and the shot that had worked brilliantly for him all match (Murray won 72% of his first serve points, which is pretty high when facing a returning of the ilk of Djokovic) worked for him again: a rally that he took control of from the first ball ended with a Djokovic backhand going long. The crowd exploded, and Murray was the Wimbledon champion. Now that is an image those affable Brits are not going to forget for a long time.

That last game of the match was, in many ways, emblematic of Murray’s journey towards the fulfillment of his lifelong goal. The journey has been anything but straightforward, and it is fitting that it culminated in a moment bursting to the seams with wild cheers, intense doubts and brilliant tennis.

Murray’s performance today was a representation of everything that makes him a great tennis player, and also perhaps of everything that makes his critics so vocal in their disapproval of him. He still plays the kind of reactive tennis that so many thought was not good enough to win a Slam, and he still takes every opportunity to berate himself when things go even slightly wrong. How can any of that be part of the healthy, confident game that is required of a champion?

We might never know the answer to that, but more importantly, we might not need to. Murray is a two-time Grand Slam champion now, and his doubters and critics can, for the moment at least, take a well-deserved hike.