77

Some lunch time reading. A happier photo than one year ago today.

A little more time to reflect on yesterdays' win.

I've been following Murray's career for several years now, and not just for the two weeks in the summer when everyone else joins in. I get quite geeky about it, as Mrs B will attest, figuring out the ranking points, looking at how the draw will pan out. Tennis is about the only sport that I have properly invested in.

Of course I followed Tim's exploits when I was growing up, the didn't-quite-cut-it semi-finals. But it was the young lad from Dunblane that really made me a somewhat obsessive tennis fan. One of the highlights of last year was getting to visit Wimbledon and see him play during the Olympics.

Every grand-slam, every quarter-final, and then every final - the question was always Will he ever win one?

And then of course he did. I was in a hotel in South Africa listening on the radio in the middle of the night. He won the US Open. He was going to be remembered as one of the greats. You couldn't ask for more. And yet the nagging question of whether he could win Wimbledon still loomed.

In straight sets, he beat the world number one. I don't think anyone predicted that. All the years of following him, analysing his chances for every match feel like a long game which has just been won. Game Over. Anything else he achieves from here is really just a bonus.

Of course I'll still keep my same geeky passion for tennis and his career - already trying to figure out what he needs to do to get to number 1. And I have bought tickets to go to the ATP Tour Finals in London in November and hopefully see him play.

But on a glorious, sunny afternoon on 7/7, Andy Murray won 7 matches at Wimbledon, breaking Djokovic 7 times along the way to lift a trophy that hasn't been lifted by a Brit for 77 years.

And I was ecstatic.