It was a peculiarly British noise. It was the acclaim for a loser.
Andy Murray stood, holding back tears, and gave the speech he had not prepared, speaking emotionally and haltingly of gratitude and respect.
It was not the scene he had hoped for when he stepped on to the court some four hours earlier. Murray had again taken second prize in a grand slam when he aches to be a winner. Every sinew in his body stretches to be the one receiving the major trophy, almost every thought is aimed towards that prize.
The hurt therefore was visible. Tears welled, the walk to the interview was a matter of resolve. It was not a test of character but an example of it. Murray was predictably gracious, self-deprecatory and honest.
It is a draining duty that he has performed before. Yesterday's speech, though was particularly tough. The 25-year-old Scot had lost not only his fourth grand slam final but the third to Roger Federer. The defeat had happened at Wimbledon in front of a home support and before his family.
Murray, though, can reflect that this defeat was of a different nature to the others. He won a set, he pushed an all-time great and, for some delightful minutes, he looked the champion. But Murray's tragedy was that the triumph that is Federer floated and flicked and ran and rampaged on the other side of the net.
The 4-6, 7-5, 6-3, 6-4 scoreline correctly reflects a tight match. Most pertinently, though, it states that in three hours and 24 minutes the King of Tennis reasserted his feudal rights to a piece of turf in south-west London.
This was Federer's seventh Wimbledon title, his 17th grand slam and, facing his 31st birthday next month, he is again the world No.1. He had not won a grand slam for more than two years. His hunger was sated by feeding greedily on the lawns of Wimbledon yesterday afternoon.
"He's not bad for a 30-year-old," said Murray. "He showed what fight he has in him." This was said with the most weary of smiles. It was a statement of undeniable truth.
Parochially and perhaps forgivably, most domestic observers will concentrate on the evaporation of the hopes of a first British men's singles winner since 1936. This is made especially a matter worthy of investigation because of Murray's fine performance and his taking of an early lead.
The world No.4, too, had his chances. He had four break points in the second set and could not take one. He had a glimmer of a chance in the fourth, creating a break point that escaped his clutches. He came in with a plan, hit hard and sure and he came up short.
There were two reasons for this and both inhabit the frame of Federer. The first is that the Swiss player is the greatest tennis player ever in terms of technique. When the roof closed at one-set all, it meant that Federer could play his shots with a certainty without having to allow for the vagaries of wind. This is akin to giving a sniper an immobile target. His sheer beauty of shot on both backhand and forehand drew gasps and accumulated points.
The second element lurking within Federer is that mental strength that gives this artist a feral aggression. This was his 66th victory on the Wimbledon turf. This suave European has the mark of the beast. He fights with a quiet desperation that defies the most persistent attacker.
There were moments in this match when he was second best, there were times when he was denied by Murray's resilience and brilliance. There were occasions, particularly in the first two sets, when he was undone by the Scot's shot-making and his certainty.
However, he won. He did this by refusing to be unnerved at the loss of a set and by believing, not just in his technique, but in himself. Such was his serenity that one almost believed he had been here before.
This was his eighth Wimbledon final and duly came on as if it was a Sunday stroll. The tradition of the players having their bags carried on to court was continued but Murray walked out not so much carrying his racket but brandishing it.
He made a suitably belligerent start, breaking Federer and winning the first two games. But he slipped up when leading 40-15 in the fourth game and Federer restored parity. A set of frantic, brilliant tennis amid a febrile atmosphere was settled after Murray resisted pressure on his serve at 3-4 and then broke the Swiss player. He served out confidently for the set.
The second set saw Murray serving strongly and returning with venom. He forced four set points, but took none. A mistake on a forehand proved hugely injurious. Instead of being 40-15 ahead, Murray was locked at 30-30. Federer, predictably but marvellously, took advantage. He forced one set point and took it.
The momentum had now switched to the six-time champion. Instead of the Scot being two sets up, the match was all square and the players both won on serve in the third before the rains came.
With the roof now on, the murmuring among the aficionados agreed the conditions now favoured Federer. The Swiss proved this assertion emphatically correct in taking a scintillating sixth game. After ten deuces, Federer finally converted his sixth break point. That, essentially, was the set and perhaps the match.
Murray tried to rally in the fourth, forcing a break point on Federer's first service match. He could not convert and it was the multiple grand slam champion who pressured Murray at 2-2 and then took his chance to break. At two sets to one up and a break up, Federer was now in the ascendancy.
It is the position he was almost born to and one he accepts with comfort. He had two sets points and took the second. He fell to the ground but the reality was that the King of Tennis had risen again to the heights of the game.
Murray had lost. There was no shame in this. But there was pain.
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