I just couldn’t watch as Andy Murray tried to make history at Wimbledon last Sunday.
I paced the ship’s promenade deck over and over, checking in on his progress. Yes, he’s a monosyllabic, dull Scotman who prefers South Americans to us English.
But this was it, he was in the final. Yet no matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t will him to win.
Sadly he came up against probably the most elegant and skilful tennis player of all time at the top of his game.
As Federer returned 130mph-plus serves, the writing was on the wall.
But I reckon Murray’s pluck and emotion afterwards was a victory for this proud Brit.