It didn't seem too much to ask to have a relaxing holiday for a couple of weeks at the end of a stressful 2007. Kim and I went to Miami hoping to unwind and get some sun but it didn't quite turn out that way because I spent two days in a hospital bed hooked up to a drip. Some sort of food poisoning had seriously dehydrated me, and the doctors didn't want to take any chances. It was one way to relax, I suppose, but not quite what I'd had in mind.
I then embarked on the most hard-working off-season I'd every known. So-called 'Team Murray' was being assembled – between track work and Bikram yoga with my new fitness trainer Jez Green, and on-court training with my new tennis coach Miles Maclagan, the winter in Miami went really fast. The yoga was incredible. It's the most difficult thing I've ever done because it's done at 42 degrees Celsius in a crowded studio, and just trying to stay balanced is really, really tough. Regular yoga looks just like stretching to me, whereas Bikram yoga tests you to hold your posture and concentrate all the time. A couple of times, Miles had to go out because he thought he was going to faint.
Having finished the 2007 season so strongly, I wanted to come back on even better form. There was no torture I wouldn't consider, including track work for the first time in my life. I'd done short, sharp sprints on a tennis court or running on a treadmill, but with Jez I started doing some work on the track at the University of Miami. He didn't really know what to expect of me. He'd say: 'Let's just see what you can do.' Then I'd do whatever it was and he'd say: 'Wow, I didn't think you'd be any good at that.'
I think people underestimate my athleticism, but to play tennis well, you have to be able to move well. We worked on that in Miami. I'd never done a 400-metre sprint in my life and so Jez set up my first session to run one 400m in under 80 seconds followed by an 80-second recovery – ten times in a row. Each session, we lowered the time by a second. My best was 75 seconds on, 75 seconds off.
That was tough, but the hardest session I've ever done was twenty 100-metre sprints, completed in 15 seconds each with a 45-second recovery. Now that is ugly. There's a video of it on my website and when it's over, I'm just lying down in a pool of sweat on the track with my arms out in crucifixion pose. When I stand up, you can see the imprint of my body on the ground.
I've never worked so hard in my life as I did during those weeks. We went to the gym, the track, the court, the yoga studio and, despite all that, I still put on weight because I started to eat much more than I've ever done. I was going out to dinner and eating forty-two pieces of sushi. I was eating massive amounts and snacking on balance bars (no bananas) to supplement the meals. I was 80 kg when we started work and by the end I was around 82 kg. Even now, I want to get heavier, I want to weigh 85 kg soon, so maybe sixty pieces of sushi is my target.
The one thing I won't do is bulk up on supplements. I've said elsewhere that I'm worried about taking things that could possibly make me fail a drugs test. These big pharmaceutical companies have so many products going through their laboratories and factories that there's always a slight chance there might be some contamination. That's one of my biggest fears. I'd hate to fail a drugs test. I don't really see how there's any way back from that in sport and I probably wouldn't want to play again.
I do take painkillers but I feel a bit uncomfortable about any other medicines, because you just never know. When Marion Jones was sent to jail for lying about taking drugs, I thought it was absolutely pathetic. If you were to win on drugs, I don't see how you could face your friends and family. OK, I'm sure you could put on a front, but when you got back and looked at yourself in a mirror, you must say to your reflection: 'What the hell was I doing?' It's just pathetic.
So, it was without any outside assistance – apart from my team – that I went to the Qatar Open in Doha for the start of the new tennis season. I sensed I was in the best shape of my life. I'd worked so unbelievably hard, the easy part was going to be playing the matches. I'd taken the pressure off myself and I felt ready to play good tennis.
My team that week – so much for my needing a minibus to get them around – consisted of Miles, my coach, and Matt Little, the fitness trainer I was leasing from the LTA. Kim was there (her studying for an English degree does not exactly qualify her as a tennis coach), also my brother, who was playing in the doubles at the time, and Ross Hutchins, who was playing in the doubles with me (not for long though, as we were outplayed by the top seeds Daniel Nestor and Nenad Zimonjic in the first round).
It was a good week. I played really well, winning one set 6–0 in each of the first three rounds. I knew I had to serve well, and sending down eleven aces against Oliver Rochus of Belgium in the first round told me I was on the right track. When I beat Davydenko in the semi-final in straight sets, things looked even better. I remember him saying I was difficult to play. He said I seemed to find some special shots when I needed them and that my slice to his backhand put pressure on him. That all sounded good to me.
I played my friend 'Stan' in the final. It was my third meeting with Stanislas Wawrinka, the Swiss Davis Cup player, and I had never won before. It wasn't easy this time either. I had to do a lot of running and it was a pretty tense match to begin with, but after going up 3–0 in the final set with two breaks of serve I won my fourth ATP title and collected the golden trophy.
I spoke on the court after the final about why my game takes a little longer to get together than most. I said that a lot of people on the tour have basic games and it takes them much less time to master their style of play. My game is quite complicated and I always knew it was going to take a bit longer to learn how to play the right way. It's taking me a bit of time, but it's exciting.
That was the gist of my speech. It turned out to be a premonition. I couldn't have guessed at the time that my results in the first part of 2008 would be so up and down. Great wins and tough losses kept alternating and I couldn't get a momentum going. But I knew I would; it was just taking time.
I was looking forward to the Australian Open. It comes so early in the year I'm surprised they don't give us Christmas presents, but that didn't stop me playing well the year before. I'd reached the fourth round and played probably the most thrilling match of my life against Rafa Nadal. But this time I was feeling good: I'd just won a tournament, I was ninth seed and my first-round opponent was the unseeded Jo-Wilfried Tsonga from Le Mans who everyone says looks like my hero, Muhammad Ali.
They'd changed the surface since the previous year from Rebound Ace to Plexicushion. I don't think it was the best of ideas because now it's very similar to the US Open, but it is still a surface that ought to suit me. I knew I had a good chance against Tsonga. As it happened, he had a good chance against me and emerged the winner 7–5 6–4 0–6 7–5.
Andy Roddick said after his match when he saw my result: 'I shudder to think what's going to be written about this tomorrow.' I knew what he meant: the British media were probably going to be hard on me after all the build-up. But I had only lost a match and not that badly either – I won more points than him (137 to 135), I won more games, and I had more breaks of serve. I just didn't quite win the match, but I ought to have done – Tsonga rushed the net over 100 times, according to the stats; and by the end he could barely walk because of cramp, although it was hard to diagnose because he'd be hobbling one minute and then managing to chase down every ball I played.
There was, I think, one point that changed the match. After winning the third set 6–0, I had my momentum, and then I was 1–0 up in the fourth with a break point on his serve. I hit a passing shot which nearly beat him, but he returned a reflex volley that bounced off the net and fell on to my side of the court. He went on and managed to hold that game. If I'd won it, I think I'd have won the match.
I didn't play that badly. I didn't return the ball too well that day, even though the return is normally the best part of my game. Even so, it wasn't nearly as bad as in 2006, when I got absolutely smoked in the first round. I was disappointed but I wasn't panicking. I knew Tsonga had played really well and I still came close to having my chance against him. In a way, it gave me more confidence, not less.
I stayed for two or three more days in Australia. There was no sense in giving up the sunshine too early to come back to London in winter. For the last couple of years when I'd lost in Melbourne, I'd been go-karting, but this time I just went to the gym and practised. I had no urge to go and explore and I just didn't have time. I was due to go to Argentina to play in the Davis Cup and if I'd taken a week off to chill in Australia and then tried to get ready to play in 30-degree heat on a clay court in Buenos Aires, I couldn't have made the transition at all.
I suppose I should have taken even more heart from the fact that Tsonga went right through the tournament and ended up playing Novak Djokovic in the final. He didn't win that day but the way he beat Nadal in straight sets in the semi-final for the loss of only seven games made everyone think they'd found a new star of tennis. Apparently he even received a good-luck message from the new French president.
But it was Djokovic who emerged the new grand slam champion and because his birthday is a week after mine, a lot of people were saying that I had fallen behind. It's true he took big steps forward in 2008. He played really well last year too, reaching the semis of all the slams except Australia. He had separated himself from the pack chasing Federer and Nadal, the numbers one and two in the world. He was, for sure, the stand-out third-ranked player in the world.
We're called 'friends', Novak and I, because we've known each other since we were thirteen years old and we even played doubles in the Australian Open one year. But I don't spend that much time with him. He's obviously good for tennis and has a lot of personality. He's known as 'the Djoker' and does a good impression of Maria Sharapova, among others, at the player parties. I'm not really into the party scene so I don't always go. I missed the one in Monte Carlo because I was watching Barcelona v Manchester United, the first leg of the Champions' League semi-final, on the TV instead.
Meanwhile, it wasn't just me who was getting press attention for supposedly 'falling behind'; questions were being asked about the fitness of Roger Federer. I heard something about glandular fever, but I wasn't certain and it wasn't really my business. I did know that he had made it through to the semis in Australia without dropping a set – that didn't suggest a major loss of form. Djokovic obviously played well to beat him in the semis, but that's men's tennis. It certainly didn't look as though he would struggle for the rest of the year. If Federer is the most dominant player in tennis history, one defeat doesn't mean anything.
It was the same last year. He lost to the Argentinian Guillermo Canas in successive tournaments in the States, and everyone was saying: 'OK, that's it, Federer's struggling' and then he made the final of Monte Carlo, won Hamburg, reached the final of Roland Garros, won Wimbledon, the US Open, Basle and the Masters Cup. Some struggle. I wouldn't mind a year where I struggled like that!
It was around this time that I had a haircut. You may not be able to believe that I can't pinpoint when, because quite a fuss seems to be made about my hair, but I genuinely can't remember. I just went to the hairdressers in my apartment block in Wandsworth and asked for a trim. No big deal. It's just hair, isn't it?
More important was the row that had blown up over the Davis Cup and it's possible that I went off to the indoor tournament in Marseilles determined to play as well as I could and not be distracted by the fall-out from Argentina. Whatever the reason, it seemed to work. I won there, beating Mario Anaic, the 6'5" Croat (whose nickname is Baby Goran), in the final, and broke into the top-10 again. I would have thought that was good news for British tennis but some people hadn't forgiven me for pulling out of the Davis Cup to protect my knee condition. One newspaper headline asked: 'So Andy, how is that knee doing?' The answer: OK, as long as I look after it.
After playing so well in France, I felt tired playing back-to-back tournaments in Rotterdam and lost to Robin Haase, a local hero, in the first round. Having inched up the ladder, I'd gone down the snake again and was back down to 11 in the rankings. There's no real excuse except the surface change didn't help me. The court in Rotterdam was probably the slowest I've played on since I joined the tour in 2005. I don't understand why all the indoor tournaments are not played on similar surfaces, but they're not. There's a lot of things i don't understand about the tour. Maybe I will one day.
Next, we packed our bags again and headed for Dubai, the tournament that all the top players make a point of playing because of the appearance money. Nine out of the top eleven players were there. I'm not against it. If a tournament really wants you, they should be free to do whatever they can to get you there. We were there in such numbers that – as an unseeded player – I ended up playing Federer in the first round.
I liked my chances in this match, I really did. I was asleep when the draw was done on Saturday. Someone sent the result in a text which woke me up, and I looked at it and went back to sleep. I wasn't worried.
There were, I admit, some differences between Federer and me: he was ranked 1, I was ranked 11. He was six years older, two inches shorter and had won over fifty tour titles to my five. He had earned $38 million in prize money; I'd earned $2 million. But then look at the stats that matter: he'd won our first match in straight sets in Bangkok 2005; I'd won the second in straight sets in Cincinnati 2006. We were matched one win each. As I said, I liked my chances.
I was right to like them. I played well and I was unlucky not to win the first set, which went to a tie-break. Before the match, Miles, Matt, my friend Carlos and I were playing football tennis on a court to help me warm up. Some warm-up. Miles and Matt ended up having an argument over a call and were effing and blinding at each other. Even as I was trying to get ready to play, they were still arguing. They didn't speak to each other for the first five games of the match. They just sat in the stands with their arms folded, not wanting to say anything. I'm joking when I said it distracted me. Actually, it was quite funny.
Federer hadn't lost a first-round match since a defeat to Dominik Hrbaty in August 2004, but I served so well he didn't have a break point on my serve the whole match. That probably hadn't happened to him for two or three years. Serving well was the key and I won 6–7 6–3 6–4. I must be one of the few players on earth to have held a winning record (2–1) against Federer in his prime.
Afterwards he had a few things to say about my style. He said I would have to 'grind very hard for the next few years' if I was going to keep playing that way. 'He tends to wait a lot for the mistakes of the opponent. He stands way far behind the baseline on the court and that means you've got to do a lot of running . . . I don't think he's changed his game a whole lot since I played him in the Bangkok final. Not that I'm disappointed but I really would have thought he would have changed it in some ways.'
I'll tell you what I thought about those comments: I wasn't that bothered, for the simple reason that I'd won the match. Also, I agreed with him. To play three or four metres behind the baseline every match is a tough thing to do and you get tired of running. But I don't do that every match, only in certain matches. I do different things against different players. If you go and watch my Australian Open match against Nadal, I was playing pretty close to the baseline and taking a lot of risks because I think that is the right way to play him. I'm not going to play that sort of game against Federer, who defends as well as he does. The result would suggest I was right.
I was feeling so confident after the win that I thought I might go all the way in the tournament. It wasn't to be, unfortunately. Davydenko beat me in the quarter-final, a reversal of our result in Doha. I wasn't too down. It had still been a good week for me, and just to prove that I wasn't the only one sometimes getting into trouble for firing coaches, Andy Roddick came out and told everyone that he and Jimmy Connors had parted company. It provided a little bit more proof that player–coach relationships are tough to maintain even when one of them is a tennis icon.
I always look forward to going to America. This time I had even more reason. I'd played well in both US tournaments in 2007, I was going to go apartment-hunting in Miami, and I'd be seeing Gran, Grandpa, Uncle Keith and his wife at the Indian Wells tournament. Some people asked me if my family were there on a peace-keeping mission because it was the first time Jamie and I had met up since the Davis Cup row, but that wasn't remotely true. My uncle is a golf pro in Texas and my gran and grandpa, who hadn't seen him in two or three years, decided to fly over for a visit. It is always good to see the family. Gran bought me a tin of her customary shortbread and I ate the lot.
Jamie and I had said hi to each other already. I wasn't really bothered about the situation any more, and I didn't feel like we needed to say anything to each other about it. I just wasn't very happy about the way it had been reported. It went from being a disagreement between Jamie and me to reports of us hating each other and sparking a family feud. I can't believe he is such a fan of Hollyoaks on TV, but apart from that we don't disagree on too much.
It was a time for peace pacts all round. At the start of the tournament, Federer told the press that he hadn't meant to criticise me in Dubai. 'And if I was, it was at a very high level, so I'm sure he knows that. All I said was that I thought he was a more aggressive player and all he was doing was just keeping the ball in play. He can do both. I know it and he knows it, so I don't think we hate each other. We had a chat, so everything's OK.' We had, and it was.
On the tennis front, I played some good tennis at Indian Wells, but not consistently enough. I was erratic against Karlovic in the second round when we split tie-break sets and I won the decider 6–3. It was the same against Tommy Haas in the third round. I played well but inconsistently and lost 3–6 in the third.
In Miami two weeks later, I had a couple of jobs to do as well as a tournament to play. I wanted to buy an ocean-front apartment, and I'd looked at about sixty places since the winter, but I had to put that on hold because of the mess in the American banking system, Also, I owed it to the ATP to make up with the Miami Dolphin cheerleaders. I'd missed an autograph-signing session with them the year before because it was raining and I'd gone back to my hotel instead and got a telling-off.
I realise that it may sound a little weird. Perhaps not many guys would miss a date with the Miami Dolphin cheerleaders because of rain, but it's not quite as miserable as it sounds. Practice courts are hard to come by in the rain, and I'd gone back to my hotel to use the courts there. It was a case of work before pleasure. That was my excuse, anyway.
So I kept my appointment this year and, to be honest, I don't know what's so special about cheerleaders. I signed stuff for kids, had some pictures taken and it was actually pretty awkward. I had to stand with a bunch of cheerleaders in front of a massive group of photographers telling me to strike a pose. That was not – for me – that much fun. I don't think Kim was that happy about it either.
But there was worse to follow. I had a really tough and ugly match against Ancic in the second round (the first round was a bye) and lost 2–6 6–2 6–7. I had two match points to win it and let them slip. That was the first time in my career that had ever happened to me, so I was pretty disappointed.
I was unbelievably flat, even in the first set I won. I tried to get myself going by losing my temper but it only worked to some extent. One of the papers said I was tearing at my shirt like the Incredible Hulk, which wasn't entirely the effect I was hoping for. I was trying to get pumped up. It's an old trick I learned from Tim Henman. Once in a Davis Cup tie against Jurgen Melzer of Austria, he lost the first set 0–6, and I saw him getting angry and pumped up. I thought: 'This is weird. What's Tim doing? It's not like him.' After the match I asked him what was going on out there. He said that sometimes you just have to get some emotion in a match by getting mad at yourself. He said you had to get really ticked off by something, either a line call or the umpire, and then it might fire up your game.
I thought I'd try it. I managed to turn the match around in my favour and I had those two match points, but I just didn't quite finish it off. I was criticised afterwards for playing too many drop shots but I thought that was blown out of proportion. It used to be something I did all the time – way too much, in fact – but I was barely hitting them now. Some people don't know what tactics are. I'd used them well in Marseilles against him; the strategy just didn't work so well this time.
I wanted to say to people: 'Look, I had two match points against the guy. If I was playing way too many drop shots, I wouldn't be having match points against someone of Ancic's calibre. The tactics were right, I just didn't play that well.' People that don't understand tennis are obviously going to think those drop shots cost me. They don't remember that at 6–4 in the tie-break Ancic used the drop shot successfully against me.
So, the drop shots were not the reason that I lost; I just served badly. I served like I had when I was eighteen years old: inconsistently and with insufficient power. It was only one match but just because my ranking drops, everyone says: 'Wow! Disaster.' But in the long run, it didn't make much difference. I went down to 20 in the rankings but I was coming into a period when I wasn't defending any ranking points because of my wrist injury the year before. I was looking to the future. If I don't improve on my ranking of 20 in the summer of 2008, that will be a terrible effort. If I'm in the top-10 by the US Open in August, I'll be happy with that.
By now, I had an idea how 'Team Murray' was going and I was happy, but not everyone was convinced. A national newspaper ran a story that wildly exaggerated how many people were on my team. Fair enough, I had a coach (so do most top players), a fitness trainer (so do most top players) and a physio (so do most top players). But the paper was including my agent, Patricio, my former coach when I was 11, and my brother, who last time I looked was a doubles player himself. It was ridiculous. I admit it may have been going over the top to take two fitness trainers to Australia. But at the big tournaments, I think it's nice to be surrounded by the people who have worked so hard with you. If I was to do well at grand slam, I thought it was the right thing to do.
After four months, I could tell that Miles and I were going to get along. He is a good person to practise with. We were similar off the court as well, pretty relaxed. I wasn't immediately as close to him as I had been to Mark Petchey, but it always takes a bit of time to get to know someone. The most important thing for me is to have someone who is similar in age and pumped to be playing in major tournaments. He is obviously excited to be on the tour but he doesn't have the sort of personality that makes him panic. He is pretty calm and relaxed and not so busy doing other things that he forgets the reason we're there. He is very different from Brad.
Miles has had his doubters. People said that because he had only reached the World Top-200 in his playing days, he didn't have the experience to guide me. That's how I know they don't understand tennis or sport. Jose Mourinho might be considered the best football manager in the world, but he was no Pele. In other words, just because you weren't a great player doesn't mean you can't be a great coach.
I think it's the players who had to work hard and weren't as talented as others who make the best coaches – they study tennis all the more because it doesn't come naturally. I think you should have played the game, but not necessarily to a top-10 ranking. Brad Gilbert is a very good coach, but he hasn't worked with someone ranked 300 and brought them into the top-40 in the space of eighteen months, whereas Mark Petchey has. But every coach has their own expertise, and some coaches suit certain players and not others. Think of Steve McClaren, the former England manager. Some people had a go at him when he managed England, but he did a great job with Middlesbrough.
I've worked with Mum, Leon, Pato, Mark, Brad and Miles and every one of them sees the game differently. The most important thing is that they understand the person they are coaching. If I'm going through a tough time, I'll phone my mum because she knows what I like to hear and what I don't like to hear. It is that kind of understanding that matters as much as forehands and backhands. Obviously I'm a very good player. I've been up there at number eight in the world, but there are still things I need to learn.
I tell Miles what I want to do and how long I want to practise, then he sets up the drills and we work on things. I study tennis: I watch a lot of matches and I know what I'm doing wrong. I don't just practise things I'm good at. For example, I want to play better on clay, so I brought in Alex Corretja to help me during the clay-court season. The Spanish former Davis Cup player has a great track record. He was twice runner-up at Roland Garros, as well as number two in the world and I just think it makes sense to call in the specialists to do a specific job.
This causes people to accuse me of being confused. I am not confused. I'm travelling with a fitness trainer to get me in better shape when I'm on the tour. What's wrong with that? I think it's a wise investment. I'm travelling with a physio because everyone's been complaining that I'm so injury-prone and this is a great way to iron out the niggles before they have a chance to develop into something more serious. What's wrong with that?
I was watching tennis on TV when the commentator mentioned that Djokovic was working with Mark Woodford, the prolific doubles champion, on his volleys. 'Great appointment,' said the TV analyst. 'It's something he really needs to improve.' If I employ someone to work on my volleys, or my clay-court game, then all of a sudden I'm described as confused. When we played in Monte Carlo, Djokovic had his family with him, his fitness trainer and his coach. Federer in Dubai had two coaches in his box, Jose Higueras, the Spaniard who used to coach Jim Courier, Michael Chang and Pete Sampras, among many others and the Swiss Davis Cup captain. So I'm not the only one; it is the way tennis is going. These people have the expertise. I don't know why you wouldn't want to work with them on a temporary basis.
My whole plan for the year is to work much harder on my fitness, get some input from some of the best players in the world and go through the season preventing injuries. I am also trying to gain those three kilos in weight which I think will make a big difference in years to come. I've been rather disappointed that the 'Team Murray' line has been blown out of all proportion. Am I supposed to tell my brother he's got to stop coming to tournaments because he's apparently part of my team?
So, there are all these professional questions to deal with and then you have to find the time to take a driving test. Kim can drive, even though she's six months younger than me, and although it's great to have a chauffeur, driving is something I really want to do. It's got to be soon because the theory test I did expires in November 2008. I don't think it will be too difficult. I've done a lot of go-karting. Basically, I've been behind the wheel quite a bit and I can drive fine. I've got good hand–eye coordination for a start.
It is funny trying to cram a little bit of normal life in to the hectic business of being on the tennis tour. This year will be busier than most, with (barring injuries) my first Wimbledon in two years, the Olympics in Beijing and the Davis Cup tie at home against Austria – which I am planning to play (I hope on a hard court).
I'd love to win Wimbledon, that's for sure. Everyone who watches the tournament would love someone British to win the singles there. I know I can play well on grass but a lot depends on the draw. Hopefully, I'll have my ranking up by then because Wimbledon does this weird seeding selection that doesn't work in my favour. Even if I'm in the top-10 or top-15 by then, because I didn't play last year I'm going to get booted down the list to a lower seeding. But that's a minor technicality compared to the pleasure I get from playing there.
I do understand it's a special place. I've been going there since I was a kid to watch my hero Andre Agassi in my Lycra denim shorts just like his. I played the junior tournaments aged fifteen, sixteen and seventeen. I was in the seniors by the time I was eighteen. I reached the fourth round by nineteen. Every year, something happens, something changes.
And, of course, some things don't change that much at all. I remember hearing the story that a gateman once refused entry to Boris Becker, the three-time champion. That doesn't surprise me. At Wimbledon 2007, Kim and I went to the gate right next to the player's entrance with my entry badge. We were going to watch one of Jamie's matches in the mixed doubles and I needed to take her in so that she could collect her badge too.
'I'm just taking my girlfriend to get her badge,' I told the guy.
'No, sorry.'
'What do you mean?'
'No sorry, she can't come in.'
'Are you serious?' I asked in an unintentional echo of John McEnroe. He explained that Kim had to wait outside the gates, while I went in to get the badge. Then I had to come all the way out of the grounds with it, come back round to the entrance, and give the badge to her before we could go in. I understand the need for security, but this just seemed needless nit-picking. Yes, obviously Wimbledon is a beautiful place, but when you get rejected at the door it's not the nicest of feelings.
I don't think they do it any more, but in the past when you won at Wimbledon, you were given an honorary tie. I don't really know much about that kind of history – and I'm not a tie man. We have to wear them at Davis Cup dinners, which can be a nuisance because I can't tie the knot properly and I have to get someone else to do it for me. I can see why people enjoy Wimbledon's traditions – it's an amazing tournament – but I wish it could be just a bit more chilled and less expensive for the fans. I eat strawberries but not with cream, and preferably for less than a fiver!
The one thing I do love is the support of the crowd. I can play in some of the biggest stadiums in the world and get very good support but it is never quite the same passionate wanting-me-to-win that I find at Wimbledon. I know it's been for ever since a Brit won and I would love to change that. But, luckily, the last thing I'm thinking about on court at Wimbledon is the last time someone British won.
There's a chance I can win in 2008, but I'm not saying I'm going to. I'm definitely a better player than I was two years ago when I beat Andy Roddick, a Wimbledon finalist. It's possible, it's definitely possible, but there's a difference between having a slight chance of winning and actually doing it.
It won't be easy. Not with Roger Federer in the way, plus Nadal, Djokovic, Karlovic, Ancic, Roddick and all the guys who now play well on grass because it's not as fast as it used to be. I reckon there will be seven or eight guys going into Wimbledon this year who think they have a chance. The best thing I can say is that, all being well, I'll be one of them.