(Photo by Clive Brunskill/Getty Images)
Two Andys, and two intense players who can get carried away by the passion of the moment.
Roddick challenges his opponent, the umpire and press. He holds his own with one of sharpest tongues in the business. No fool, no time-waster, and intolerant of mistakes. These are qualities that the British enjoy—a waspish, sarcastic edge backed up by an overwhelming dedication to his sport and a desire to win.
Looking closely at Murray, it’s easy to see similar qualities. He has had to work at the lugubrious, less-easily-taunted approach to his off-court responsibilities. By natural inclination, he too is intolerant of poor judgment and mistakes.
They differ in their style of play, though there is some convergence even there.
Roddick’s huge advantage, his powerful serve, is no longer enough on its own to beat the top ranked players, so he has worked on his ground strokes and his serve-and-volley play to increase his repertoire. He compensates for lack of subtlety with doggedness, speed, and fitness.
Murray, conversely, started with creative hands and a soft touch that could make winners from all parts of the court, but used to lack the endurance and the reliable serve to add weight to his game. He, like Roddick, has worked at those failings and is now reaping the rewards.
The grass may play a part in this contest of big serving and scurrying counter-attack. It will enhance the service speed and emphasise the effect of slice.
That Extra Something: The Home Crowd
The fifth component in these semi-final clashes is the British public, which is riding a wave of enthusiasm for their new-found hero.
Against a different set of players, Murray would have 110 percent support from the home crowd on their home turf.
But the British public has a corner in its heart for each of those ranged against him.
Federer is adored for his artistry, his barely-suppressed emotion, his courageous fight against illness and injury to claim—just weeks ago—his most hard-won title.
He wows them on the court, he gives them his time off the court.
They stand in awe when he arrives and when he leaves.
If he makes a seventh consecutive final, the groundswell of support for him will be enormous. And if he should win, the tears will flow both from him and the crowd.
Haas has won the British public over with his back-story: The catalogue of injury and misfortune, the passion that kept him fighting, and his sheer talent.
Even if his thrilling all-round game was not enough, his game with one of Wimbledon’s own ball kids—after a premature end to his second round match—endeared him completely.
Roddick has always been a British favourite.
Fast and furious, hard-working and gritty, committed and witty, the crowd knows what it would mean to this man to eventually win Wimbledon. He has nothing to prove, but has thrown himself into new training, new diet, new coach, and with new purpose.
The British love a fighter! If it had been Hewitt at this stage, they would have cheered for him too.
So Murray has his work cut out, not only in his tennis but also in the crowd’s affections. They will, undeniably, roar him on towards the first British Wimbledon singles title since Virginia Wade in 1977.
However, there probably won’t be a dry eye in the house should one of the other worthy semi-finalists pip him to the post.
The semi-finals—and the championship—have indeed served up a thrilling drama. It has almost reached the long-predicted conclusion of King Federer versus the Crown Prince Murray.
But there could yet be an unexpected twist in the tale.
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