Andy Murray is back and firing on all cylinders.

Andy Murray is back and firing on all cylinders.

It was good to see Andy Murray back on a tennis court. For a while we feared the worst. It almost felt as if the tennis landscape had lost something vitally important. There was an anguished almost heartbroken Scotsman lying on a treatment table just bursting to get out there and prove once again that you can't keep an excellent tennis player down when the odds are so heavily stacked against him.

For the best part of a year or so Murray has been gently recuperating after perhaps one of the most horrendous hip problems he's ever faced. There was even speculation at one point that Murray would have to pack it all in, retiring from the sport he'd so illuminated with those famous double whammy men singles Wimbledon titles and the Olympic title at the London Olympics in 2012. But they're made of sterner stuff in Dunblane and who said anything about imminent retirement? There's plenty of life in this Scottish human dynamo.

Yesterday Andy Murray re-introduced himself to that genteel paradise that is Queens. While the picnic hampers were being readied for action and the Pimms was ready to be drunk in huge quantities, the tennis fraternity threw out its welcoming arms to a man they'd so idolised and so easily sympathised with when the hip almost broke the man. But now the smiles were back, the adoring fans were back in harness and finally Murray was revived and revitalised.

The word is that he may not be quite fit enough for the white hot cauldron of ultra competitive tennis since a full comeback may be some way off. So for all the Murray faithful who have fretted and worried for so long about his health and continued involvement in tennis, yesterday must have come as something of a relief. |Somewhere out there in the crowd of course, had to be the two women who'd provided such blissful re-assurance and guidance when it all looked as if everything was coming to an end.

Judy Murray, Andy's mum and wife Lucy have of course provided the two time Wimbledon champion with an emotional cushion to fall on when the going became really tough. Theirs was a stabilising influence when all Murray could see was a world that looked as if it was falling apart. The Murray injuries were becoming increasingly more frequent as the years passed by and it seemed as if he'd never find a way out of the darkest of holes.

But then son Andy presumably harked back to those sun lit days at Wimbledon and thought of that triumphant fist pump which accompanied his first Wimbledon victory. Then there was the moment when the Murray knees leapt up in unison as if he could hardly believe what had just happened to him. Then the Scotsman dropped gleefully to the ground before it hit him. There was a slow realisation that for the first time in well over 70 years Britain had discovered a tennis phenomenon. He looked to the skies, stared in some bemusement at what had just happened and then smiled lingeringly.

Then Murray did it all again and Wimbledon had to wipe its disbelieving eyes in case this wasn't really happening because surely that Fred Perry victory during the 1930s could never ever be emulated nor surpassed. How wrong they were. Murray had beaten the very cream of world tennis with those unforgettable victories over Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic in the Wimbledon men's singles finals. British tennis was, and still is, in the rudest health.

Meanwhile back at Queens Andy Murray had treated his discerning audience to something new and entirely unexpected. Murray teamed up in a doubles partnership with one Feliciano Lopez and then promptly won the trophy which in a way we always knew he would. There were no hysterical fanfares and very little fuss which is probably how Murray would prefer things to be. Wearing the dark blue of Scotland and a satisfied smile, he stood next to Lopez, privately wondering whether another momentous Wimbledon victory on Centre Court may not be wishful thinking after all.

For most of us of course the two time Wimbledon champion may always be remembered whatever happens to him. There is the wound up aggression, the fiercely driven baseline player who prowls around like a leopard ready to pounce. There is the incessant shirt adjustment, the almost entrancing finger blowing, the spinning of the racket, the intense concentration, the rolling of the shoulders and then that loud thudding of the racket. We are now privileged spectators at a Murray showcase.

Before the umpire can declare the first serve, Murray gave the Queens observers an exhibition of the man in full flow. There is that thunderbolt first service which whistles past his opponent as if shot out of a cannon. Who could fail but to marvel at those fizzing, destructive returns of serve, the clumping forehand winners that seemed to fly down the tramlines like bullets, the rolled wrists that propel delicate drop shots and the miraculous back hand, cross court shots that somehow defy description?

We may not see the resurrection of Andy Murray's career this year but there's always another tournament, another month and week. If the hip and back can prevail then who knows what the future may hold for the most outstanding British men's singles title winner in the history of the game? If Judy and Lucy have anything to do with it then a full recovery may come around much sooner than we think. Come on Andy.