Andy Murray announces retirement.

Andy Murray announces retirement.

We feared it would happen sooner rather than later. We knew about the horrendous injury problems and we sympathised. When Andy Murray announced his retirement from the very high profile world of tennis we knew that Murray's body had taken more than enough punishment. It almost felt like the most cruel deterioration, a sharp downward decline that couldn't be stopped no matter how hard he tried. And he certainly tried of that there can be no doubt.

But surely this is the right time to now acknowledge the size of his outstanding achievement within the game and acclaim him rightly as two time Wimbledon champion when it seemed as though Britain would have to wait at least another two centuries before singing the praises of another Wimbledon men's singles champion.

Sadly though, Murray listened to the creaks, snaps and twinges that have so often completely destabilised him, bothered him, irritated him and ultimately defeated him. There are some battles in the life of sportsmen and women that are destined to be lost, wearying and tiring ordeals on the treatment table that just refuse to go away. Murray though, always the fighter and never the quitter, finally decided that he just couldn't go on and that the only memories he'll leave behind were by far the most precious ones.

So it is that we bid farewell to perhaps the greatest and most sublime talent British tennis has ever produced by a thousand country miles. Not only did Murray win Wimbledon twice he slammed the cynics and naysayers with one heck of a ferocious serve from a green Wimbledon baseline. He dismissed out of sight those who believed that Murray lacked the nerve, the bottle, the sheer bloody mindedness, the absolutely focused, narrow eyed determination, aggressive intent and an admirable desire to be the best as soon as possible.

In an age where Murray found himself surrounded by the remarkable Roger Federer,  the peerless genius of  Novak Djokovic and the handsome gifts of Rafael Nadal, he brought his own very unique brand of fearless daring, powerful, high energy and a relentless will to win that some of us thought we'd never see again on British soil.

Murray's game was based quite unmistakably on an insatiable will power and abundant stamina that maybe Murray himself didn't think he could ever summon when the chips were down. The body language was revealingly moving and inspiring. There were the endless pulls on his shirt, the slow winding up of supple arms and shoulders hardened by dedicated training, that bullishly belligerent growling and snarling, that cold and calculating steeliness that some of his peers must have envied.

Then the trunk of Murray's body would gradually uncoil before throwing the ball into the air and cracking the ball with his racket rather like a sniper in warfare. Murray would hurl the whole weight of his body forward so that the trajectory of the ball would be whipped away from him like a missile. The forehand serve could be regarded as perhaps a tennis player's most offensive weapon but for Murray it seemed to travel with the speed of a bullet.

Murray would then grow into the most important matches and ruthlessly wear down the resistance of his opponents. There would follow a whole succession of explosive returns down both tramlines, swinging, heaving miraculous shots delivered with lethal, uncompromising accuracy and a blase effortlessness that very few of us could ever believe.

The man from Dunblane, who had overcome some of the most personal anguish from a young age was now moving, chipping and charging, racing from one side of the court to the other and then blasting the ball with a merciless brutality that felt as though he was letting go of years of pent up frustrations. You probably thought Murray had the needle to the ball, that there was an unspoken animosity burning away inside his heart that had to come out at the right time and place.

Then there were the immensely gratifying cross court returns, the pitch perfect almost strategic placement of the ball into particular areas, the brilliantly judged backhands that flew past his opponents, the gritty resolve and those swinging forehands, overhead swipes that gloriously turned into unstoppable shots that were hit sweetly and often musically.

But now Murray has made it clear that he can no longer subject his tired body to yet more demanding five set exertions, more agonising contests on both clay and grass. This year, Murray has told us that this will be his last Wimbledon ever and that the final swansong for a now richly decorated Olympian gold medal hero is now only a matter of months away.

Today, in front of an emotional and tear stained press conference Murray pulled on all tightest of heart strings with the brave admission that Murray could go no further. He'd accepted that the hip and back injuries that had so scarred his career with increasing frequency. Regrettably though those self same injuries had left him almost helpless eventually overwhelming him from all sides.

Still, we can still remember this magnificent athlete as the winter nights make us long for a hot summer, reminding Britain once again that they'll always have one of its finest and most lustrous tennis stars. And so it is a nation will recall, cherish fondly and never ever forget Andy Murray, a man whose hunger for success, rampaging ambition and clearly visible appetite for tennis will live long. This could be the ideal moment to send out search parties for yet another Andy Murray. His legacy is set in stone and we wish our bonny Scotsman the happiest retirement. You feel sure he deserves it.