Soft Hands, Hard Sell

Being the Wimbledon contender is the hardest job in British sport. In team games, such as football and cricket, the intensity may be greater, but there are others with whom to share the burden. In golf, British players tend to come in clusters and that your first opponent is the course aids camaraderie. In tennis, you are on your own, hanging around for the next match, hanging around for the next press conference. If it resembles any other job in sport it is that of England manager. And resigning is not an option.

The present incumbent is Andy Murray. The last time he was at Wimbledon there were 'Two Popes', as the hillock where the faithful came to worship was alternately named Henman Hill and Murray Mound. Now the conciliatory English candidate has resigned and the firebrand Scot, described by Sean Connery, no more and no less, as 'as good as anyone who's ever played the game', is in the ascendant.

In his last match before Wimbledon he came back strongly at Queen's 10 days ago to record a gutsy victory over the Latvian Ernests Gulbis. He looked encouragingly close to the top of a game that seems to have few weaknesses, although, perhaps, lacks a killer shot. 'It was a very good win. He's a very tough player with a huge serve,' he said. And conversation moved on to Murray's thumb, which has threatened to become the Rooney's metatarsal of this summer. He had sprained it rather than broken it, but, as he said: 'If I cannot hold the racket properly and Roddick is hitting 140mph serves it is probably not the best thing for my thumb.' He could not and so he retired from the tournament after that victory over Gulbis 10 days ago, and therefore goes into Wimbledon without any grass-court form against any of the other players who might win the tournament.

The press conference had been relatively amicable, although before the start there had been some muttering from the man from the Corporation. This was probably to be expected as chapter seven of Murray's autobiography opens with the sentence: 'In 2007 I stopped talking to the BBC.'

The reasons for his abstinence are more petty than profound. There were some questions from a BBC reporter on gambling that he considered inappropriate. There was a piece of fluff on the BBC website. After his brother had won the Wimbledon mixed doubles an unnamed woman from Radio 5 Live misjudged the situation. And so it came to pass that getting on for 200 hours of coverage will be broadcast over the next fortnight without a word from the only home contender. It is all a bit Trappist.

Four days later and Murray is more relaxed when confronted by a smaller group at a South London primary school to which his sponsors, RBS, have lobbed a hundred grand to improve the playground in the hope they might encourage the next Murray.

'I don't really know till I start playing the tournament,' he says, 'but in terms of pressure it's not as bad as it was two years ago and I am much more relaxed. Before, I took more of an interest in what was being said in the press and people talking about my game.'

He was rather John Major about things, obsessively scouring the papers in search of praise and quick to take offense at anything uncomplimentary. Now he is more sanguine. 'I'm getting older and more mature and have a better understanding of my responsibilities and the media's responsibilities.

'You can't take the things said about you to heart. You have to understand these things will happen, it's people's jobs. When it comes to the whole circus you have to deal with it in your own way.'

He has also published an autobiography. It is difficult to make that trick aged 21 and follow up by playing the privacy card. With royalties come responsibilities. The book is entitled Hitting Back, which seems aggressive until you discover the chief targets of his returns are the media and bananas. He is more effective, and pertinent, when he directs his ire at the Lawn Tennis Association, his peers and juniors. Murray has worked darned hard to travel as far as he has as fast as he has and, as is often the case with workaholics, finds the carefree attitude of others inexplicable and irresponsible. 'Sometimes I turn up at Roehampton and it's like a ghost town,' is a typical sentence. If he had his way the national tennis center would be a boot camp filled by willing and eager recruits.

Murray does not hold out much hope of a British rival emerging in the next four or five years. 'We need to look at the kids who are 10-12 years old because a lot of them stop at that age and take up football. The most important thing is that they enjoy playing.

'I think more kids from the UK should consider going to college in America, You get to play a lot of matches and get a very good education at the same time. We haven't a good record from junior to senior level and it gives you a few more years to mature and become more disciplined.'

The best way that Murray could inspire a new generation of talent is to become the first British man for 70 years to reach the final of Wimbledon. 'I'm in the best shape I've ever been in,' he says. 'I have a far more all-round game than a couple of years ago. I'm confident, even though I haven't been playing much.'

The confidence is based on improvements in his game. 'My positioning at the net is way better than it was. Although my first-serve percentages are not as high as some of the players, when it goes in it's a huge weapon for me. Being able to return and come in to the net has been a big difference. I spent too much time in the past a long way beyond the baseline and you just get tired after a little while if you do it for a whole match.'

As to which half of the draw he would prefer he hedges his bets saying: 'I've got a better record against Roger Federer, but I think there's more chance of [Rafael] Nadal losing earlier than Federer.' He is in the Nadal half and has what should be a gentle opener on Tuesday against Fabrice Santoro of France, who is full of guile but at 35 no longer full of puff.

The weight of expectation is balanced by the level of adulation. 'The support is one of the best things,' he says. 'It helps you if you are behind or in a tight situation, especially if you are not playing your best. I was first aware of it during one point I was playing against Andy Roddick [at Wimbledon in 2006], it may have been one of the set points, and I made a diving volley and got to it and somehow passed him and it was the largest roar I had ever heard on a tennis court.

'When I used to watch Tim a lot of people said he didn't use the crowd as well as he might have done. So when I came along, being like I am, it became very emotional.' He has recently, however, been keeping a tighter rein on his emotions and conserving his energies. 'You start to understand the right times to do it.

'The perfect example is Nadal. He still does the fist pump, but not in the same way as he used to, when he would run three or four meters before doing it. Now he still does it, but without the run-up.'

Henman's successor is aware of the debt he owes his predecessor. 'He gave people hope in British tennis when, before he came along, there was just disaster,' he writes in his book. And the pair remain friends, texting each other regularly with updates on Greg's Rusedski's stuttering attempts to make a career on the celebrity circuit.

The Englishman was the more natural player, but the Scot may be more effective. First, there is his bolshiness. While Henman seemed over-anxious to be Pete Sampras's friend, Murray has no such hang-ups. 'I don't particularly like hanging around the players' lounge,' he says, and is not bestest of pals with any of his rivals. 'I will spend each day as if it was any other tournament,' he says. 'I go back to my flat, spend some time on the internet, watch some Entourage [the American comedy series], play a bit of pool. That's pretty much me for the night.'

Second, he is the superior tactician. Henman could allow matches to drift, Murray is always thinking. 'When I was training in Barcelona I realized that this is the job I want to do and I watched match after match after match working out how to beat people.' He now knows 'what shots they play well and what they don't like. One thing I have been good at since I was young is tactics. I have a game plan for Federer and Nadal. I could probably do with changing my one for [Novak] Djokovic.' He has taken only one set off Djokovic in losing to him four times out of four.

Finally, there is his, perhaps surprising, deft grace. Mats Wilander said recently that Murray had the softest touch and softest hands since McEnroe. Reminded of this he says: 'That's nice to hear, I think I've got quite nice hands as well.'

And now he has a calmer head to direct them. It could be a potent combination.