If there is a tennis equivalent of hell, it surely is being dragged back to the scene of serial pain inflicted by a rival who is not only a week younger but roughly $50m richer, eight grand slam titles better off and regarded by every sane critic as the best player in the world now and for the foreseeable future.
None of that concerns Andy Murray as he contemplates his fourth Australian Open final against Novak Djokovic here on Sunday. Having gone winless against him in a combined total of just under 10 hours in 2011, 2013 and last year (as well as a first losing final here in 2010, against Roger Federer), Murray almost revels in it – just as he took satisfaction from the ordeal of his long, tough semi-final win over Milos Raonic on Friday.
It is not mere perversity kicking in – although that is there in good measure – but the sort of pragmatism professional athletes must embrace if they are not to lose complete control of their sanity.
There have been a lot of painfully one-sided rivalries in tennis, few more charged or poignant than that between Serena Williams and Maria Sharapova, the Russian leaving Melbourne this week after losing for the 18th time in a row to the American, who ploughed on to the final. Yet Sharapova tries as hard against Williams as she does against anyone on the circuit.It is her destiny, almost: unavoidable and defining. She does not shy from the fight but walks through the smoke and bullets with her head high.
Djokovic has beaten Murray 21 times; Murray has beaten Djokovic nine times. If they were fighters, promoters might have a hard time selling tickets to their next fight, although that has never been the case because they invariably provide more than a mere result. There is baggage.
Their careers have run along roughly parallel lines since they were very young, but it is the Serb who has outshone the Scot in nearly every way: 60 titles to 35; 10 majors to two; $93,988,180 to $38,840,385 in prize money. And Melbourne is where Djokovic hurts Murray most in big matches.
Still, as he said after that absorbing 4-6, 7-5, 6-7 (4-7), 6-4, 6-2 win over Raonic in a tick over four hours: “Five finals is a great achievement. You can’t take that away from me. There are very few players that will have made five Australian Open finals, so I have to be proud of that.
“When you get to the final you’re disappointed if you don’t win, but I’ve played very good tennis here. I’ve given myself many opportunities to reach the finals ... seven straight quarter-finals, as well.
“I have a very good shot on Sunday if I play my best tennis. I need to do it for long enough to have a chance, I’m aware of that. I don’t think many people are expecting me to win. I just have to believe in myself, have a solid game plan, and hopefully execute it.
“It doesn’t matter what’s happened in the past. People like to read into what’s happened, but Stan [WAWRINKA]beat Rafa [NADAL]in the final here [IN 2014]. I don’t think he’d ever won against him in 13 attempts. There’s no reason it’s not possible for me to win.”
Murray has won slam finals against Djokovic: at Flushing Meadows and Wimbledon. They are his only majors so far – but the word “only” should not be regarded as an insult. Tim Henman “only” reached four Wimbledon semi-finals but how many others have done that?
At the summit of any sport, just arriving is a major achievement. Standing alone is the ultimate, but losing does not diminish either the effort or the moment, as Johanna Konta might put it.
Indeed, for all her obsession with the process and keeping a grip on her expectations as if permanently wired in to a tape from her mind coach, the British No1 beautifully captured the essence of that philosophy after losing to Angelique Kerber in the semi-finals. “I don’t live my life and feel my happiness or joy on my wins and losses,” she said.
Murray expressed a similar sentiment after losing in the final last year to Djokovic, when he was a contender until a spectacular late collapse that he hinted was in some small part due to the Serb’s gamesmanship, although he was not subsequently happy with that assessment. He said: “Success is being happy. It’s not about winning every single tournament you play, because that isn’t possible.”
Rafael Nadal often says the same. Cynics would say such a response to losing is an easy fallback, a philosophical comfort blanket. But it is more than that. It is a proper rationalisation of the facts. It is why Donald Bradman was the greatest batsman of all time, despite falling short of a century average in Tests or why Muhammad Ali’s five defeats should not tarnish our memory of his many extraordinary accomplishments on other nights. They are all human, albeit very special.
Murray deserves to be regarded with the highest respect as he moves in these rarefied circles. As he said after a recent defeat: “I’m not a machine. I’m allowed to break down now and again.”
He makes every effort not to, and, after 36 hours rest and a little light preparation, he will need his machine to clank pleasingly for him again on Sunday, because there is a beast at the other end of the court who will show him no mercy whatsoever – just as he was ruthless in his execution of the hobbled Raonic.
The Canadian, head down, an ice pack easing the pain in his right groin, looked and sounded as if had been hunted down for days in the wilderness and shot, when he said: “It’s probably the most heartbroken I’ve felt on court but that’s what it is.”
As Serena Williams repeatedly tells us: it is what it is. All they can do about it is play until they drop and if that’s not good enough they move on. As good as Djokovic is, he knows that too. Anyone who saw him in tears on court after losing to Wawrinka at Roland Garros last summer will understand that. If Murray could make Djokovic cry in Australia, he’d be a very happy man.
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