While Rugby Union, “a game for
thugs, played by gentlemen” and tennis, the sport of kings, may on the surface
have little in common, two documentaries I’ve recently watched gave some
interesting parallels. The first, on Andy Murray’s recent operations with his hip
problems and attempts to make it back to being competitive and the other on the
career of Dan Carter, the legendary All Black stand-off. The similarities
between the two in terms of their individual journeys was most enlightening and
highlighted not only the dedication required of a top athlete but the loneliness
and problems that can arise from the quest to be the best.
On the face
of it, other than both being brilliant, little would seem to link them. Strikingly
different personalities, certainly. Murray; aggressive, emotive and vocal. Politically
motivated and active on twitter. Carter; assured, cool, calm and collected. A
poster boy and underwear model. What unites them, it seems, is the need to
succeed and the trials and tribulations that come with that as well as the
personal tragedies and massive professional disappointments that have touched
them both. Each documentary by its very style, confirms their differences. The Murray
one, a fly on-the-wall, warts and all confessional, complete with swearing and crying.
Murray - very much a man of his time, in terms of social media and opening up
about his feelings - recording a selfie video from a hotel room somewhere at 3
AM telling us how nervous he is about his forthcoming operation. The Carter documentary,
more restrained and discrete, a more traditional documentary in terms of style,
seems to mirror him. Growing up on a tranquil South Island farm, where rugby
was and is everything, his parents constructed a set of rugby posts in the back
garden and the rest was history. Playing for the local school, then the local
club, with the ultimate progression to becoming an All Black, although not easy
- becoming an All Black is far from easy - was fairly straight forward in its
trajectory.
Murray, on the other hand, native
of Dunblane - a small Scottish town - a tennis fanatic, in a country not
exactly known for producing tennis players, had to leave home as a teenager to
go and live and train in Spain. This was his only chance to make it big. Having
survived the trauma and horror of the Dunblane Massacre by a whisker and his
parents’ divorce, perhaps escaping to the sunshine of Barcelona may have been a
godsend but leaving home at such a young age can’t have been easy. There can be
no doubt such events helped shape his more emotional, provocative and direct
manner. Murray is a one-off, unique in his honesty and approach. Carter, less
so, uniquely brilliant as a player, but a guy who is happy blending into the
background, having a few beers with his mates. That said, his work as an underwear
model, an amusing paradox which he laughs about, has made him a superstar
beyond rugby, but he remains a quiet family man. Murray, a devoted family man
too, would surely be unlikely to model underwear, should he be asked. Carter suffered the traumatic experience of the devastating earthquake in his hometown
of Christchurch in 2011, so he himself has demons to deal with.
Injury unites them too. Murray’s
hip issue, a devastating and debilitating condition may still finish his career.
That remains to be seen. If he can’t get back to near the top, he will surely
retire. One hopes he can make it back to being competitive, the sport is less
colourful and weaker without him, but it remains doubtful which, as he said in
the documentary seems unfair even if it is a “dick thing to say.” Murray knows
how to speak like a millennial, i.e. grammatically incorrectly but he also
knows how to put a point across. He’s right, it is unfair, as he is a good
person and a great and willing athlete but sport, like life can be cruel at
times. Carter would not disagree. In 2011, the year of the earthquake he
suffered an injury, prior to the world cup in New Zealand. They were hot favourites,
but they’d just lost their best player. The best player on earth. Carter, again
in his discreet South Island manner said it was one of maybe a couple of times
he cried due to an injury. Murray sat on a court in Washington last year after
an epic victory, sobbing uncontrollably into his towel in front of spectators
as he feared it may be his last match. This shows how much it means to him, but
it also shows where he’s coming from. A need to share his pain and struggles as
he does on the documentary. He is a pioneer, a modern man, not afraid to show
his emotions. Like a Shakespearean actor
shares his feelings and angst to the audience through his words and gestures, there is a
theatricality to Murray’s performances on a court, though his words are perhaps not as sophisticated as those of the bard. He could be a fine actor. He
has the timing and the humour. Once, after losing a final to Roger Federer at
the Australian open he said, “I can cry like Roger, I just wish I could play
tennis like him.” All that said, from what he shows in the programme, I don’t
think he actually seeks or particularly likes the limelight. Tennis changes him.
On court he becomes a different beast. It gives him a purpose. He is a
missionary of sorts. His way of playing and his way of expressing himself so
openly just happens to be the way he does it. It works for him whether he likes
it or not. Maybe that’s the ultimate contrast? Carter seems to be same dude,
playing rugby or having a barbeque. That works for him. He is as determined as
they come, but he just happens to be as chilled as they come too. Away from the
court, I suspect Murray is a bit more chilled himself. The chilled Murray we
saw win this year’s Queen Club doubles with Feliciano Lopez. I wonder how his
career would have gone if he had played with a little more joy at times,
something he alludes to.
What undeniably links these two,
it seems, are the mental and physical sacrifices and the hard work that goes
into being a top sportsman (or woman). The courage to come back from injuries
or losses is immense. Two very different men, two good men, two magnificent
athletes. Whether it’s kicking a vital penalty in the world cup final in front
of eighty thousand people or serving for the match in a grand slam final they have
shown that despite the massive contrast in their sports - one the ultimate team
game, the other, the ultimate individual sport - keeping one’s nerve is the
greatest challenge in achieving sporting brilliance. I raise my hat to them
both.
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