Andy the Knighthawk writes new records

Sometimes, the madness of sport can only be encapsulated in the most simple of sentences Football, bloody hell! Or, as Thanasi Kokkinakis put it even more starkly after losing a ridiculous encounter to Sir Andrew Murray at 4am in Melbourne, “This fucking sport man”. It was a not unfair summary after what he had just endured, on an extraordinary Thursday evening in Melbourne.

Kokkinakis, perhaps best known to date as the non-Nick Kyrgios half of the tempestuous, chest bumping all-Aussie doubles pairing that won last year’s Australian Open Doubles title, was playing perhaps the best tennis of his singles career. Two sets up he went on Murray, then a break immediately at the start of the third. It looked as if the Scot’s extreme effort to triumph over Grand Slam finalist Matteo Berrettini in five sets two days earlier would catch up to him. Then, a sign of life, a break point carved out to turn things round.

That classification doesn’t do justice to what followed. Unbreakable point would be better. Murray was dragged side to side by the Kokkinakis forehand that had been the match’s dominant shot, lobbed the ball up in the air, somehow retrieved the smash. Lob. Smash. Lob. Smash. Lob, this time all the way to the baseline, pressing the Australian into a bounce smash, that Murray forced back, that forced in turn the error. Kokkinakis, already riled by a time violation warning, smashed his racquet into the ground. Murray by contrast merely put a hand to an ear, whipping up an already frenzied crowd further. There was no sprinting celebration, no pumping of those extremely talented arms or legs. He knew that there was a long way to go, that he needed any energy he could yet save.

On it went, Murray broken again only to wrestle his way back in as Kokkinakis served for the match. There was still work to do to win the tie break, with no room for error. Two sets to one and still the Australian did not wilt, holding for 1-1 in the fourth after six deuces, bringing up break points of his own. Murray doesn't so much weather storms as revel in them. Of course he took it into a fifth. As the match became the longest match of his career, careering the astonishing number of spectators towards dawn, both players raised their levels again.

In the future, tennis fans reading about the big four era may not remark much on this match. It will be dwarfed, understandably, by the great final victories, by the two great 2012 triumphs, Olympic gold and a first Grand Slam, by Wimbledon 2013 and, to a lesser extent 2016, by the rise to World Number One.

But to those who have followed Andy Murray as he happened, one suspects this will be one of the nights most remembered for how it encapsulates his greatness.

Helpfully, for the historical record, it will appear as a spectacular statistical footnote, the match that gave Andy Murray a record not even those grand slam gobblers could touch, the most comebacks from two sets down. Kokkinakis was just the latest, perhaps the greatest victim of the speed, the fitness, the guile, power, the technical precision, and above all the pure heart of this great sportsman from Dunblane. Nine others have suffered the same fate; the unfortunate Richard Gasquet did it twice. Murray's is the kind of heart lions line up to seek a transplant from, that beats hardest when the going gets hardest, that rages, even at 35, even with a metal hip, against the dying of the light. For it was here in Australia, let us not forget, that Murray called into question his future in the sport four years ago, where organisers played a video clip with gushing testaments from Federer and Djokovic among others on court. There was none of that this time, just an exhausted but typically self-deprecating on-court interview which included jokes about the sizes of various body parts and a promise that even when he looks like he's not enjoying himself on court, he's actually thriving.

This was, almost certainly, the greatest second round match of all time. It was perhaps up there with other matches played for bigger prizes, with the Borgs and McEnroes, the Federer and Nadals. The home kid playing the tennis of his life, the ageing great with a metal hip playing his tenth set in two rounds, the raucous atmosphere, the absurd lateness of the hour. If 2022 was the year of the nighthawk in British sport, then 2023 is already the year of the night knight.

If 2022 was the year of the nighthawk in British sport, then 2023 is already the year of the night knight. Really though, the superlatives are used up. We need new names, new processing power, new processes. Can we perhaps knight him twice? Then again telling him to arise seems cruel after that. Sleep, Sir Andy, sleep. Perhaps, we should we just crown him King? After all, there is no ounce of energy left spare when Sir Andy takes to the court and he does at least seem to get on with his family.

Whatever happens in the third round, or in the rest of this year, or in the rest of this extraordinary career, perhaps all we can do is be grateful for nights and knights like this, for the moments that this big hearted, self-effacing man has turned into hours

Forget the sport. This fucking man.