I cannot give you the formula for success, but I can give you the formula for failure – which is: Try to please everybody.
Herbert Bayard Swope
I have never met Mr Swope. I don't know anything about him except I really like that quote. It sums up the way I feel. It also explains why I wanted to write this book when some people might think I am too young to have strong opinions. I don't think I am too young. In fact, I think I have pretty much mastered the art of having strong opinions.
Many things have been written and said about me that I wasn't happy with because they didn't reflect the person I am. Being able to tell my own story in this book has provided me with a very good opportunity to get my views across without any media distortion. Obviously, I have done some bad things in my time on the tennis tour, but at least now you know why I did them. It is not because I am naturally rude, or anti-English, or sexist; it is because I made mistakes as everyone does and then watched, amazed, as they were dramatised beyond all reality.
In no way am I saying that I'm perfect, but I would say that many things have happened to me that haven't been particularly fair. If I say to someone in the newspaper business: 'I'm really disappointed with what you wrote about me,' they are going to say: 'Really sorry,' and carry on acting like they're my best friend. Nothing happens about it. You don't have the luxury of saying 'That's absolute bollocks' in public after they get something wrong. Well, that's fine. But I wanted to get my side across too, and this book is the way I chose to do it.
It's not about making people like me. I know I'm not going to be everyone's favourite person – there are very few people in the world that absolutely everyone likes. It's not about being popular, it's about being me. When you are in the sporting spotlight, sometimes you deserve the chance to explain yourself. So this is it: I'm explaining myself. It is not to make you like me; it is hopefully to make you understand me a bit better.
One way of doing that, I thought, would be the sporting Q and A list. I often get asked to do these and it is a pretty good way of getting to know someone quickly. It might help to explain a few things about me and will probably convince you I've got an immature sense of humour, but it's still worth a try.
ANDY MURRAY'S QUESTIONNAIRE
Q: Favourite tournament?
A: US Open.
Q: Favourite tennis shot?
A: Drop shot.
Q: Greatest sporting moment?
A: Winning my first tournament in San José, 2006, beating Lleyton Hewitt in the final.
Q: Most difficult opponent?
A: Rafa Nadal.
Q: Best insult ever hurled at you?
A: 'Scottish wanker' was a good one.
Q: Favourite film?
A: The Shawshank Redemption and Braveheart, also comedies like Wedding Crashers and Old School.
Q: Favourite computer game?
A: Pro Evolution Soccer.
Q: Favourite music?
A: RnB.
Q: How many books have you read in your life?
A: I hate reading. Sometimes I scroll through books on the computer but only sports ones.
Q: If you weren't a tennis player, what would you be?
A: Footballer.
Q: What bores you?
A: Plane journeys.
Q: What's the worst thing about your job?
A: Not seeing family and friends that much.
Q: What's the best thing about your job?
A: Seeing new places all the time.
Q: What three things would you rescue if your apartment was on fire?
A: My sofa – so comfy, my wallet and PlayStation 3.
Q: What does life after tennis hold for you?
A: I'm interested in property and school sports.
Q: Which sport do you like least?
A: Bowling.
Q: What was your favourite subject at school?
A: Maths.
Q: What was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?
A: Missing every homework I was ever given. I hated it.
Q: Have you ever seen a snake in your house?
A: Yes.
Q: Who is the sportsperson you most admire?
A: Muhammad Ali.
Q: Will you vote in the next election?
A: Probably not.
Q: Do you have any phobias?
A: Not really, but I don't like it when my limbs feel pinned down.
Q: Do you still get marriage proposals?
A: I haven't for a while. The last one was at Wimbledon 2006 – a girl came up with a banner that said 'Andy, will you Murray me!'
Q: Favourite holiday destination?
A: Miami.
Q: Favourite country?
A: I do like the States. Australia is very relaxed too.
Q: Favourite food?
A: Japanese.
Q: What's the best practical joke you've played on a mate?
A: Hiding his passport the day before he was leaving on a trip – his parents turned his room upside down.
Q: Do you think Scotland will ever make the football World Cup again?
A: Of course.
Q: Snow or sun?
A: Snow.
Q: Half full or half empty?
A: Half full.
Q: Sharapova or Ivanovic?
A: Sharapova.
Q: Big Brother or Dancing on Ice?
A: Both poor.
Q: Who is the most impressive person you have ever met?
A: David Beckham was awesome. Very nice, polite and normal as well.
Q: Have you ever considered a ponytail?
A: Never say never. I was close last year!
Q: What do you wear round your neck?
A: It changes. I had a cross, a foot and a little ball for a while. Right now just a ball because the strings broke on the other ones.
Q: If you were an animal, which one would you be?
A: I love dogs but maybe a snake. Something scary.
Q: What is your ambition in tennis?
A: To win a grand slam.
Q: What is your ambition in life more generally?
A: To have a happy family.
Q: What is the thing you most like about yourself?
A: My abs. Ha ha.
Q: What is the thing you most dislike about yourself?
A: My voice. Probably the most boring in Britain.
Q: What is your philosophy of life?
A: See Mr Swope's quote at the start of the chapter.
I was thinking the other day about throwing up. I don't mean throwing up then and there, I mean the time in Barcelona I got completely hammered on vodka, wine and champagne and threw up as an obvious consequence right outside a nightclub. I never drank again. It was, you might say, a formative experience.
It was during my Academy days in Barcelona when I was about sixteen. I was going out to dinner for my friend's birthday and just before I left the house, the son of the family I was staying with asked me if I'd like a drink. I said: 'Yeah, sure' and then, stupidly, left the room to go to the toilet. When I came back, there was this big glass with 'a little bit of vodka and Coke' in it. I drank it down in literally 20 seconds and went to catch the bus into town. I began to feel rather peculiar, which is not surprising considering I'd been given about half a pint of vodka with a few drops of Coke, or so I discovered later.
There were about fifteen or sixteen of us at the dinner, with wine and champagne flowing at the table, so I started drinking that too. It was fairly noticeable that I was not behaving normally by now so the others started feeding me crisps with chocolate cake on them. I didn't care. I knew what was going on and I knew it wasn't good, but I couldn't stop myself.
Then everyone announced they were going to a nightclub. Obviously I wasn't in the best shape to go with them and I had no expectations of getting in either. But I went along, shuffled to the front of the queue and just at that moment in front of the doors with loads of people around, I felt the urgent need to be sick. Instead of moving, I just tried to catch it in my hands. It went down my arms and legs and splashed on my shoes. Unbelievably, the nightclub let me in but I can only imagine that I wasn't a very popular clubber that night.
After that night, I decided it was possible to have fun without being drunk. You lose control and I hate that. I made an arse of myself in front of all my friends and, anyway, I don't like the taste of alcohol.
It is amazing how many things happen to you when you're young that have a knock-on effect when you're older. I always remember being petrified once that my temper had got me into real trouble. I was in the house on my own when I was about seven years old. My dad had gone to pick up Jamie from somewhere and I was on my bed playing a football game on my Nintendo and a PC game on Jamie's laptop at the same time. I'd been playing for a couple of hours and I wasn't winning. It was getting worse and worse and I was starting to get a little bit annoyed.
Then I went a goal down on the Nintendo and a split second later the same thing happened on the PC and that was it. In a fit of rage I whacked the screen of Jamie's laptop and broke it. The screen looked like a smashed windscreen. It was completely bust and I started panicking. I was crying as I phoned my dad and told an outright but necessary lie: 'I was playing on my bed and I just turned round and knocked it off by mistake.' We took it to the shop to try and get it mended, but it was completely dead. Dad probably had to buy Jamie a new one and, because I was so scared, I didn't tell Dad the truth until a couple of years ago – or Jamie, for that matter.
Dad tended to believe me when I was a boy and there was a good reason for that.
'Dad,' I called one day when we were in the house together. 'There's a snake in the house.'
'Be quiet, Andy,' he said crossly. He was on the phone, a business call, and he'd warned me sternly not to make any noise.
'But Dad, there's a snake,' I persisted, somewhat fascinated by the sight of a living, breathing snake slowly making its way along the floor.
He told me to shut up even more crossly than before. Then he came off the phone, looked down, went white and said: 'Oh my God.' He panicked and ran out of the room, and I think he took me with him even though I wanted to touch my new slithering friend by now. He phoned the RSPCA and the police, and it turned out that our neighbours in the adjoining house kept snakes and one of them had escaped, got under the floorboards and into our living room. It wasn't a dangerous one but I wasn't to know that, and anyway a snake's a snake. Since then, Dad has, pretty much, listened with respect to everything I say.
I would describe myself as mischievous rather than wicked growing up, and I always needed something to occupy me. Sitting around reading books wasn't an option. I am pretty much the same now. In Miami this year when we were bored, I started to do quizzes for everyone – not just about tennis, but a bit of everything. I refused to participate because I wanted to be quizmaster – in control – and I was impressed that they were all pretty good.
My favourite question was this one: Who's played more times: McEnroe v Connors or Sampras v Agassi? It's a trick question because they've played exactly the same number of times: thirty-four. Those pairings are probably the two best rivalries in tennis history and they have exactly the same win–loss record: Sampras won 20–14 and so did McEnroe. No one got the right answer.
I'm known as a bit of a statistician. I know pretty much what all the top players on the tour are doing, where they played, when they played, the scores. I couldn't tell you how many times they serve aces or hit forehand winners but I do know what the top players are up to.
If you ask me about Djokovic this season I'd be able to say off the top of my head that he played the Hopman Cop with Jelena Jankovic and lost in the Final to the United States because Jankovic was injured. Then obviously fourth, played Gilles Simon, in Indian Wells, lost in the first round of Miami and went out in the semi-finals of Monte Carlo. He played Davis Cup in between against Russia and retired in the third set against Davydenko.
Knowing the players and their records helps me to prepare for matches, because I've always believed that winning the tactical battle is as important as hitting the ball hard. I think what's appealing about my tennis game is that it is not just about generating power off the racket. I like to defend – maybe too much sometimes. I try and use as many shots as I can. I hit flat, use high angles, slice, drop shot, and come to the net sometimes. I think that is the difference between me and lot of the other players right now.
I try and play a smoother game where you have to feel the ball rather than just muscle it. That's why people talk about me having 'good hands'. It's a timing thing. When I first started playing on the tour, it was a style I used all the time. Then I stopped doing it as much, but it's something I want to go back to because it's more fun to play. The alternative is just putting the ball back in court and hoping your opponent will make a mistake. But to me there is far more pleasure to be gained from putting up a high lob when you are pushed back on the defensive – the attacking defensive option is more fun.
I never saw him, but a lot of guys have told me I play like Miloslav Mecir, the Slovakian player they called the 'Big Cat' because of the beautiful way he moved around the court and the misleadingly gentle shots he used. I love watching players who you feel can produce a magical shot out of nowhere.
Obviously, you do need to play aggressively sometimes. For example, when I play someone like Nadal I am ultra-aggressive, coming forward all the time and trying to hit winners. It's about finding the right way to play against each opponent. You need to adapt. I love that about tennis. I love thinking my way to a win as well as just powering the ball over the net.
I think I'm quite bright when it comes to tennis but there is no argument that some people are much intelligent more than me. Kim Sears, my girlfriend, is one of them. I am always saying I don't know what she's doing with me. I met her for the first time at the US Open in 2005 when Mark Petchey introduced us. He knew Kim's father, Nigel, who coached Daniela Hantuchova for a few years on the women's tour and we've pretty much been together ever since. I'm lucky. I know she isn't with me because I'm in the spotlight. When we met, I was still playing qualifiers. She also understands the life of a tennis player because her dad is so closely involved with the sport.
I reckon it works as well as it does because we don't see each other all the time. She's away at university studying English and I'm away on tour, so when we get together we've always got stuff to talk about and the relationship always seems a bit fresher. She doesn't want to follow me around on the tour. She wants to have her own career, not just pose in Hello magazine.
Obviously, I'm not much help with her English course – having read only a bit of The Rock's autobiography and a couple of Harry Potter books – but when she did drama I used to help her with her lines. I had to try and speak a bit of Shakespeare – Measure for Measure, she said it was – but I had no idea what I was talking about.
She is probably my first serious girlfriend and I know that many guys who play professional sport would prefer to go out with a thousand girls rather than just the one. But I think that's the easy option. And you end up having to go to clubs and bars to meet girls, and I'm really not interested in that whole scene.
Kim and I have been together a long time now, but we're still young. We've decided it's best to wait until she finishes her degree and then see what she wants to do. If she decides to go to Australia or somewhere, it's not going to work. But right now it's working really well and I hope it will do so for longer. I want the relationship to work. A happy family means a lot to me.
I accept that I see things differently from a lot of people my age. It isn't that I have anything against people who want to go drinking and find as many girls as they can – I know that's what most guys of my age do. I don't disagree with it, but it doesn't interest me that much. I don't know whether that's because I've got an older head on my shoulders or because I'm lucky enough to have Kim, but the last thing I'd want to do is go out looking for women.
I know a lot of people in their thirties who just can't get out of the habit. They say: 'I wanna settle down, I wanna settle down,' but they're still going to bars. It's tough to snap out of it. I'd hate to get to that age and think: 'Oh, I screwed up the only girl I ever really liked because I wanted to go and be with six or seven other girls.' I think you'd look back and regret it.
Maybe it is boring. This might be a boring way of looking at things. But, in the long run, I think I'm going to be much happier. And, anyway, the last thing I feel like doing when I come home from running ten 400m races is going out to a club, listening to unbelievably loud music, with a wall of smoke in my face on the way in and out, and people throwing up on me. That's not really my idea of relaxing.
I have quite a few pet irritations, but the worst by a long way is snoring. I absolutely hate it and I think it's totally unacceptable. I've never snored and I've always hated it when people around me do. In my life, I've had to share so many rooms and planes with other people, and if you are stuck there with someone who snores, it's a race to get to sleep before they do. Then you don't fall asleep because you're trying too hard and you end up being awake all night.
This is one of the things Matt Little and I argue about (one of many, many things). He says: 'I don't care if I snore.' And I say: 'Well, you should care because the people you're sleeping with can't sleep.' Then he says: 'How am I supposed to know when I'm snoring if I'm asleep?' And I say: 'You shouldn't lie on your back in bed. That's why people snore.'
We're always having arguments. We had an awful one the other day because he's a very average driver and we were driving into a tennis club with a narrow entrance road. He was looking way off to the right, while another car was coming head-on. 'Watch out,' I shouted. He just missed the car, we went off the road a little bit and he then said to me: 'Stop having a go at me when you haven't even got your licence.'
I said: 'Just because you haven't got your licence, doesn't mean you're a bad driver. I would rather be in a car with Lewis Hamilton before he passed his test than be in the car with you.'
'No way, they haven't got the experience.'
'Not the point. They know how to control a car.'
'No, no, no . . .' And so it goes on. Naturally, we then had to consult all the people around us for their opinion and then everyone was arguing. I think most of the time Matt does it just to wind everyone up. He takes what you say and then argues the exact opposite, whether he believes it or not. I accused him of that once and he denied it, but then I realised we were now having arguments about our arguments. It's funny. He does it most of the time to create a laugh, and he's loads of fun to have around. To have someone like that travelling with you is so good for morale.
But just to finish the argument, I have actually been in a car with an F1 driver and I can promise you that Nick Heidfeld, who drives for the BMW Sauber team, is a better driver than Matt Little. Driving with Nick was one of the scariest things I've ever done. We didn't have any helmets on and it was just a regular car he was driving round a track. But the speed was incredible. We were coming up to a corner, and I was thinking: 'Slow down . . . slow down', only there wasn't much slowing down going on – he decided to skid the car and it glided round the corner instead. It was not that comfortable.
I am not scared by much, as a rule. I'm not a huge fan of flying, but bugs, heights and, obviously, snakes don't bother me. I am not claustrophobic but I do hate not being able to move my arms and legs. I used to hate it when everyone jumped on top of me when I scored a goal in football.
I think it stems from the time I was swimming in a pool after some junior tennis tournament and a couple of older boys decided it would be really funny to dunk my head underwater. They did it for way too long and I couldn't move. I started to panic a little bit because I couldn't breathe. Normally kids do this kind of thing but it never lasts longer than five or ten seconds. This felt like 30–40 seconds. Since then I've hated not being in control of my limbs. Control is one of my themes, I know. I like being in control of my life, that's for sure.
In some ways, I'm quite sensible by nature. I remember at the Sanchez-Casal Academy when the ice cream machine wasn't properly locked and loads of the guys nicked all the boxes of ice cream to hide in the fridges and freezers that some of them had in their rooms. But it was a totally stupid idea because there was no way they could fit them all in. Then they decided to hide all the extra cartons in their ceilings – they had those temporary slabs you could move – and they forgot about them so the ice cream melted and it was disgusting. As if the adults wouldn't realise that the twenty kids living five feet away from the broken machine were the ones responsible! But just before I sound too good to be true, I had better confess that the main reason I didn't steal the fruit pastille lollies I loved was nothing to do with morality: I didn't have a fridge.
Another thing I ought to do is apologise to Arantxa, the poor woman who was supposed to look after our corridor at the Academy. Carlos and I must have driven her mad playing Pro Evolution Soccer in his room on my PlayStation until two, three, four in the morning. Her room was at least 50 metres away, but we made so much noise when one of us scored a goal or missed an easy chance that we would disturb her sleep. As soon as we heard her footsteps down the wooden corridor, we'd switch off the screen, turn out the lights and I'd hide under Carlos's bed or in the wardrobe. She'd come in and find all mysteriously quiet and then go off again.
I'll never forget the night we heard those footsteps coming again. Usual ploy: screen off, lights outs, and me under the bed.
She just opened the door, took the PlayStation, and left the room without a word. I had to admire her. She didn't give it back to us for quite a while either.
Contrary to my image, I do have a sense of humour. The Office is one of my favourite comedies and David Brent is simply the funniest character ever invented. It is so, so funny how much of an idiot that guy is. Sometimes I meet people who remind me a little bit of him and then I push them to try and say David Brent-ish things without them realising what I'm doing.
But I think the most amazing piece of television I've ever seen was the Christmas Special edition of Extras when Ricky Gervais has that famous rant about reality TV. His character is appearing on an episode of Big Brother and he suddenly bursts out with:
'And fuck you the makers of this show as well . . . No, the Victorian freak show never went away. Now it's called Big Brother or American Idol where in the preliminary rounds we wheel out the bewildered to be sniggered at . . . And fuck you for watching this at home. Shame on you. And shame on me . . .'
I watched it and I thought 'Wow.' That speech says everything I feel about the celebrity culture and why I never, ever want to be a celebrity. Maybe people think it's boring that I just want to be normal when I'm off the tennis court, but I don't think there's anything wrong with that.
Tennis is what I do for a few hours a day. The rest of the day, when I'm not playing tennis, I'm not in front of cameras and the only people around me are my friends and family. I'm pretty sure that if I changed and became this moody git that I'm supposed to be, the friends I've had since I was fifteen years old wouldn't be around any more.
It is true that I'm richer than I was at fifteen, but the last thing I've ever thought about on a tennis court is money. You get nervous about winning a tournament; you don't get nervous about winning the $100,000 prize. Money is not the most important thing to me, but I don't want to sound ungrateful. I do feel I am lucky to have done sufficiently well in my sport that I could buy my penthouse apartment with a roof garden in Wandsworth, and think about buying one in Miami too. One day I think I'd like a house in Surrey but I am not so sure about taking off to live in tax exile somewhere, because the money that you gain might be offset by the amount of time you miss with family and friends.
I've been asked in press conferences if I'm 'tight' because I'm Scottish. It makes me furious because it is obviously some sort of stereotyping. I answer back: 'I'm not going to say anything about the Scots being stereotypically mean. I'm surprised you're even allowed to ask that. If I said something negative about the English, I'd be absolutely slammed for it and you're sitting here in a press conference saying I am tight because I'm Scottish.' I'm never very happy about that.
And, no, I don't think I'm mean. I really enjoy buying presents, even makeup, but I draw the line at underwear. No chance. On myself, I haven't spent shocking sums of money but that's because I don't need anything. In America last December, I did buy a Mercedes sports car for Kim as a surprise Christmas present then promptly ruined the surprise.
You know how it is when you wake up after dreaming and your thoughts are still all jumbled up. I opened my eyes one morning while we were staying at Nick Bollettieri's academy in Florida and the first thing I said was:
'Do you like your Mercedes?'
She was saying: 'What?! What are you talking about?' To make it worse, I was still so dozy, I mentioned it again on the way to breakfast. I think maybe the complications of buying a car in a foreign country were preying on my mind and I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. Perhaps that, in some ways, is the story of my life.
Yes, I do get annoyed on court. Yes, I have done and said things I shouldn't – I am not disputing that at all, and I want to get rid of that behaviour. But many of the best players in the world in all the big sports have the same sort of hate-to-lose mentality as me and it does take them a while to get out of it. Federer is a perfect example. He was swearing and smashing rackets when he was a teenager. Even Tiger Woods is sometimes done a favour by the television companies when they turn their cameras away as he rants about a bad shot. Perhaps that is all it takes: just be as good as Tiger Woods and then everyone wants to keep you happy.
There are ways of getting around the problem of swearing out loud. After a long rally, you can use any word you like at the top of your voice when the crowd is applauding and cheering. I've just got to learn not to do it when I'm standing next to a microphone. Anyway, I don't think I've ever met anybody who doesn't swear about something, even if it's just dropping a glass. OK, maybe my gran doesn't – I'll have to ask my mum (who does).
When I first started on the tour, I had no idea about all the things that go with playing sport at the highest level. As you start to understand it a bit more, you try to protect yourself, and so your true personality doesn't come across any more. At that amazing first Wimbledon, I was described as 'a breath of fresh air' and they said how great it was to see such emotion on the court. That all changed pretty quickly and soon I was portrayed as a brat with appalling manners.
I'd like somehow to go back to the way it used to be with the press. I could be natural and they would be realistic in their portrayal of me. Tim managed all the attention in his own way and suppressed his personality completely. Few people saw his sense of humour and how nice he was. I don't really want to do that. I'd like to be me and trust the media to report me fairly – that's all.
There's a long way to go. I've still got another ten to fifteen years as a professional tennis player, all being well. Some people talk about me being a Pied Piper for British tennis, encouraging other young players, but I don't really think that will happen. I do believe it's important in sport to have someone that kids can watch at the bigger tournaments, but I think the problems of British tennis go way deeper than that. It starts at clubs and schools and it is vital that kids are encouraged to play and continue to play just because they enjoy it.
I'm always being asked by parents of young tennis players what advice I would give to them. The only thing I can really say is that their children must get fun out of it. The more relentless drilling of young talent has worked in places like Russia but I don't agree with forcing kids to play tennis. When I was younger I played many different types of sport and that was really fun. The most important thing a kid should be thinking when they turn up for a lesson or at camp is: 'I'm going to love every second of this.' Often they don't. At thirteen or fourteen I would far rather have played football with my mates than have a one-on-one session with a coach.
I am not saying I don't want to be a role model – I am happy with that. When kids are already into tennis, it helps to have someone to look up to. But I am not going to make any difference to the six-, seven-, eight- and nine-year-olds in Britain. They just want to enjoy themselves and it doesn't bother them whether I've won a tournament in Marseilles or not.
I do think about this and one of the things I want to do in the future is to set up a foundation or a charity to fund a school, eventually more than one, that treats sport as seriously as the academic side. I'd have loved that when I was at school, because I adored playing sport and wasn't much interested in the classroom. I had to be allowed out of lessons to train. In countries like Australia and America they really value sport, and I would really like to do something to encourage a more positive view in the UK. We think sport is great in this country and yet we do so little to promote it to kids. I'd really like to help with something like that.
As for my immediate future, I think the most important thing I can say to people is just please give me some patience and time. I think I am still pretty young at twenty-one. There are players who have done great things at that age, no question – Boris Becker was seventeen when he won his first Wimbledon, and Rafa Nadal has three French Open titles already. But I've always said I have a different game from most people's and it might take me a bit longer to get it together.
Matt Little had this sheet of statistics the other day – he is useful for something, after all. It showed every player in the top-100 and their rankings since they were teenagers. The average age for peaking was 23–25. That makes sense to me. That is when you are at your strongest physically, and more mature mentally.
So just try to be patient with me. If it wasn't for my wrist injury last year, I think I'd be ranked much higher already. But I'm still in the World Top-20 – not bad for someone my age. Obviously, I'd like to be better and I plan on winning a grand slam in my career. That's what I'm working towards. I'm not saying this year or next year, but it is what I'm aiming to do. And, believe me, I'll give it my best shot.