Sporting Heroes – Tim Henman, by Dominic Pollard

Murray-mania once again sweeps Britain as the Scot finds himself in the final of the Australian Open. Yet all I can find myself thinking is, ‘I wish it was Tim’. This may appear to be somewhat of an odd choice for a Sporting Heroes series but, in my eyes at least, Tim Henman seems to fit the bill perfectly.

Like all great heroes, Henman was flawed. As if a character penned by Shakespeare himself, he had that weakness that endeared him to a nation. Unfortunately his flaw was an inability to win a major tournament which is why many may scoff at the idea of him being a sporting hero. What ‘Tiger Tim’ did, though, went beyond lifting, or not lifting as the case was, any silverware.

Firstly, we ought to dispel any myth that he was not a good player. Far, far from it. He spent the best part of decade in the exclusive shortlist of the top ten ranked players in the world. Moreover, he was once ranked number four in the world and the Oxfordshire man graced six Grand Slam semi-finals. This is no mean feat.

Regardless of what he did or did not achieve, however, Henman is a sporting hero for other reasons. He is a sporting hero because of what he did for the game of tennis. He almost single-handedly carried the weight of a nation’s expectation on his shoulders throughout his career. Yes, Greg Rusedski did occasionally feature but it was never more than a cameo in the Tim Henman show.

I, like a generation of people, grew up watching the clean-cut, soft-spoken Henman on those green courts. While his opponents set their feet on the dusty baseline, Tim would glide up to the net in memory of a foregone tradition. Not only did Henman enjoy a very successful career but he achieved it all while playing a style of tennis which was becoming largely outdated. His serve-and-volley approach made him almost unique amongst the baseline big hitters that were dominating the circuit. He was the last of a dying breed. Henman’s game relied on technique, finesse and an ability to read the game rather than sheer athleticism or power and this, of course, only added to his appeal.

For a fortnight at the beginning of summer, tennis courts everywhere would be filled as people across the country were mimicking the patented ‘Tiger Tim’ fist-pump having just executed a textbook forehand volley. When Wimbledon came around the spotlight was on Henman and he rarely failed to excite. He consistently progressed into the second week at SW19 and would almost always produce some characteristically tense, nail-biting matches along the way. He had the ability to get the nation on to the edge of their seats, screaming at the telly as he found a way to make a seemingly simple task appear nigh on impossible.

In 2007 Henman bowed out of the game as his understudy emerged on the scene. Andy Murray has since gone on to prove that he is one of the best players in the world and, although I should be happy for him, it is just not the same. The excitement of watching him or the uncertainty that came with every Henman match is no longer there. Perhaps it is because he is better than Henman was. Perhaps it is that he does not have the quintessential English personality that Tim had, as one would obviously expect as he is Scottish. Or perhaps it is just because being at the top of your sport does not qualify you as a hero, it is about much more.

Tim Henman’s career was in many ways a Hollywood script without the happy ending. He was the underdog who was always beaten by the evil Americans and Australians like Pete Sampras or Lleyton Hewitt. Henman is a real life hero who lends himself to the old cliché that ‘good guys finish last’. Of course a nation would have rejoiced had he ever won Wimbledon but he was loved in spite of whether he was ever going to lift that trophy. He is a sporting hero because he was an honest character, with all too obvious flaws and short-comings, and yet who carried the burden of hope for an entire country while fans sipped their Pimms, ate their strawberries and cream and watched on in tense, unrelenting agony.

You can follow Dominic’s writing over at his blog – http://dominicpollard.blogspot.com/ and can follow him on Twitter too – @DominicPollard

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