Andy and Jamie Murray: Swingers who became strong family unit

Scottish brothers deliver in the doubles, paving way for Andy to complete his country’s first triumph in the historic team competition for 79 years during today’s singles

(Getty Images)

Two little boys once had a big toy. Each shared a swingball. Daily they played, each summer’s day, warriors both, of course. The swingball was placed on Ayrshire beaches in conditions so extreme that both could only survive through a mixture of the energy produced by swinging rackets and the heat provoked by a fraternal competiveness that would shame Tiger Woods in its intensity.

More than 20 years on, the Murray brothers came out to play again, this time in a cavernous indoor arena in Ghent. The prize at stake, of course, was bigger than those matches on sand of yore. But the brothers remain largely unchanged in personality and mentality. There is a perception that Jamie, just more than one year older, is the less competitive brother. Perhaps, but this is akin to saying that Annapurna is smaller than Everest. They are both filled with a determination that comes from nature and nurture. Mother Judy was, of course, an international tennis player, but their dad, Willie, was a junior footballer, a fiercely combative form of the beautiful game.

The Murray combination in Davis Cup matches has its curiosities. They play the same game but specialise in a different discipline. It was noticeable that it was Murray minor who was playing the role of comforter to his older brother. Andy Murray may not have played doubles in a Davis Cup final before, but he has survived arenas slightly more testing than Ayrshire beaches.

He adopted easily the tics of the doubles player. The talk behind the hand that was possibly somewhat overly cautious given that a Jumbo jet would not have been heard landing amid the most raucous of arenas. He had the fist-bump that is compulsory in doubles but, more importantly, he had the presence that consoled Jamie in the most trying moments in a victory only achieved after four tense sets.

Murray major struggled on his serve, but his brother brought an air of stability. Once when Jamie served a double fault, Andy’s lips moved in what seemed like an “it’s OK, it’s OK”. This would seem trite if it was not delivered by the world No 2 and your brother.

Jamie, too, seem surprised by the intensity of his brother. If Murray minor had been any more pumped, he would have been a bouncy castle. His leaps of triumph at the end of the first set brought a look from Jamie, a brotherly look. Normal business was resumed.

There were moments when their familiarity did not stretch to a recognition of who should go where and who should hit what. The Flanders Arena echoed on occasion to a clash of Murray rackets. David Goffin and Steve Darcis occasionally, too, found both Murrays were in the same square yard and that there was plenty of space to despatch a winner.

But there were no recriminations. There was the fist-bump, the quick chat and the steely gaze forwards as another point was contested. Murray minor’s shouts of “Come on!” were always addressed to himself, his fist-pumps given in the direction of the crowd. To his brother, he was almost solicitous. A pat here, a quiet word there.

Jamie, predictably, was more restrained. His priority had to be to match his brother in focus. The cliché is to say great doubles teams have a chemistry. The Murrays had the science of genetics, the power of family, and the certainty of shared blood. They hugged at the end. Twice. It was not quite a day on the beach but it was fun. Winning for the Murrays always is.

Hugh MacDonald is the former chief sportswriter of The Herald