ANDY MURRAY'S right. One-man teams don't win the Davis Cup. But one-family teams are a different matter altogether.

When the Scot first emerged on the tennis circuit a decade ago, he wasn't anybody's idea of a diplomat. Yes, he had talent, technical ability, tenacity in spades and a thrawn streak of obstinacy in his nature which marked him out as a champion, but you would never have classed him as Our Man in Havana. Yet, during the course of a strength-sapping and utterly compelling three days of action at Queen's Club in London, where Murray repeatedly served notice of his refusal to lie down, despite his knackered limbs almost giving up the ghost, he once again demonstrated that he is one of the greatest competitors his country has ever produced.

On Friday, he saw off Jo-Wilfried Tsonga. On Saturday, he and his brother Jamie won the doubles. Less than 24 hours later, Andy rallied from a set and a break down to prevail over Gilles Simon, sealing qualification to the semi-finals for the GB contingent, who were almost wholly reliant on a duo from Dunblane. Whereupon, Sue Barker popped up on the BBC and told us: "England v Australia has a nice ring to it."

Normally, in these situations, I don't get too stressed about people regarding Scotland as part of Englandshire, but there was something about the remark in this context which really rankled. For starters, and impervious to the vast amount of money which is pouring into the LTA's coffers, there still isn't any sign of another player from the UK with the right physical and mental attributes to thrive on the international men's circuit. And why is that? Well, there was something insufferably smug and complacent about the activities of too many of those in and around the action at Queen's, which testified to the reality that tennis remains wedded to privilege and has still to embrace the true notion of inclusivity.

This certainly isn't the fault of the Murray clan, nor coach and mentor, Leon Smith, nor Heather Watson and others in her mould who have worked tirelessly to dispel the long-held notion that the UK players' favourite song was: "All You Need is Love".

But, as for others in the firmament, it seems Status Quo remains their No.1 band. While watching Andy's battle to haul himself back from the brink against Simon, I was reminded of the interview which his inspirational mother, Judy, did with another BBC figure, John Inverdale, at Wimbledon, where it was as if the two were living in entirely parallel universes. In one corner, Judy, all beetle-browed energy and indefatigable enthusiasm, spoke passionately about the need for improved facilities, the urgency of persuading kids to pick up a tennis racquet, and her deeply-held conviction that the sport requires joined-up thinking, not just to produce elite stars in the future, but to grant youngsters access to free tennis as often as possible during their formative years.

Her message was crystal-clear. But, for whatever reason, Inverdale either couldn't get the point, or didn't seem to comprehend what Judy was talking about. And yet, her urgency is perfectly understandable. I hope that James Ward and Dan Evans and Dom Inglot climb up the rankings in the years ahead, but I wouldn't be putting my mortgage on it. And this at a time when the Murrays have laid a fantastic platform for the next generation. Indeed, the Davis Cup should be in the bag if Andy is involved, because there is nobody left in the competition to trouble him in singles and emphatically not from an Australian ensemble with more dysfunctional aspects than the Addams Family.

If Andy & Co. achieve that, it will be another coup for a fellow who has transcended any number of obstacles and it's difficult to think of another individual who has shaken up so many perceptions and shattered so many stereotypes. In essence, he IS British tennis for the 21st century, as immutably linked to the game's success as Frank Sinatra was with "My Way" or Clint Eastwood with "Dirty Harry".

So who is to blame for the fact he still hasn't converted everybody? The LTA? Check. The BBC? Check. The critics who have never forgiven him for treading boldly where Henman couldn't go? Check. And even those Scots who regard him as being a little uncouth, as if manners added up to a hill of beans when you are forging your own trail in history.

I hope he orchestrates another Davis Cup success in the semis, preferably in a rubber which is staged in Glasgow. By the by, if Andy eventually leads the Brits to glory and they scoop any "Team of the Year" accolades, I hope Sue Barker is available to hand over the prize.

AND ANOTHER THING

There were two notable sporting triumphs for Johnsons over the last few days. The first – from Mitchell Johnson at Lord's – was a thrilling affirmation of how swiftly fortunes can change in any pursuit. The Australian all-rounder had looked out of sorts in his side's First Test loss in Cardiff. But what a magnificent response he produced to pummel England into the dust and reduce the likes of Ian Bell to quivering wrecks.

The second – Zach Johnson at the Open Championship – left me entirely cold, not least because we all knew we would be served up a sermon on the mount at St Andrew's after his victory. I have no problem with sporting figures having religious beliefs. Not at all. But equally, I reserve the right not to be preached to by millionaire golfers. Amen.