As Scots we’re used to disappointment. Some might even say we like it that way. Saves time later on.
Inside the Rod Laver Arena, you can tell which particular members of the Murray Mob are truly genuine Scots.
The ones who, like me and my posse, don’t really expect the Big Man to win.
Years ago, during the World Cup of 1982, me and a bunch of mates were at the Brazil game - famous for David Neary’s “toe-poke” goal.
The Big Man needs a test.
That’s the unanimous verdict of the wee group of people I’ve been watching the tennis with. We’ve bonded, the same way you do with those people you sit next to at the football.
There’s me and Billy ‘Mr Zydeco’ Abbott of course, his daughter Nina Simone, Dave the Scot, Beryl the delectable Kiwi, Alan fae Dufftown, and Ped who won’t give me his full name because, as he says: ‘I’ve got more warrants out for me than ‘Bible John’.
‘You know what’s it like when you’re fighting a wee skinny guy in the National Health glasses’? says my mate Billy Abbott high up in the stand at Hisense Arena. ‘You take it easy. It’s almost impossible to go completely radge. You feel kind of sorry for him…’
It’s not easy to tell which of the two players on the court at Rod Laver Arena looks the most Scottish but Big Andy’s opponent, Ricardas Berankis, just shades it.
Oh Andy looks pretty Scottish, we know that, the ginger hair being a bit of a giveaway but Ricardas, from Lithuania, reminds you of a certain kind of Scot.
A Ned, to be honest. A wee Schemie.
It’s 41C. That’s 106F in the old money. You could fry an egg on the pavement outside Hisense Arena except you’d probably burn it.
Hot. And humid. ‘Okay if you’re with a women, not so good at the tennis’, as Robin Williams nearly said in the film Good Morning Vietnam.