WHY is the world not beating a path to Judy Murray's door? Her sons, uniquely, are world No.1 in men's singles and doubles, a feat all but unique in sport. How did a housewife from Dunblane do what the Lawn Tennis Association with all its expertise and hundreds of millions from Wimbledon could not?

The Brownlee brothers, Olympic gold and silver medallists in triathlon, may have their supporters. Likewise tennis's Bryan brothers, the Klitschko boxing brothers, and cricket's Waugh twins. And of course, the closest parallel: the Williams sisters, uniquely ranked one and two in women's singles while jointly holding the doubles world No.1 ranking, having been nurtured by their father.

But while Richard Williams was in the tennis mainstream of the USA, Judy has succeeded while swimming against a tide of porridge in the most remote of tennis backwaters.

It's the Jamaican bobsleigh tale of Cool Runnings revisited. The only Scottish sporting feat of comparable improbability is Allan Wells' Olympic 100m gold at Moscow 1980. Wells made history by scaling Olympus from the foothills of Arthur's Seat, in cauld, dreich Edinburgh, often clearing snow off the track. The USA had 46 of the leading 100m men in the world when Wells took gold that year, and the UK was such a sprint graveyard that the only other Brit in the top 100 was ranked 67th.

Yet Maw Murray has triumphed to an even greater degree in at least as inhibiting an environment – challenged for facilities as Wells was, climatically disadvantaged and as pathetically resourced by their respective establishments.

She had to invent and build a system of her own, knowing what she knew and what she did not, and finding someone who did, in defiance of a governing body that seemed more intent on hampering than nurturing.

Are other sports now consulting Judy about her formula for success? There's no more evidence of that than we witnessed of athletics consulting Wells and his wife. So successive generations of sport talent seems condemned to re-invent the wheel. It's impossible to gauge how much talent has been broken on it as a result.

Tennis technique must be embedded early, much more so than in athletics. So when Jamie reached the under-12 final of the Orange Bowl (world No.2 at this age) the LTA offered a place at Bisham Abbey. Britain's tennis hothouse was almost immediately closed, and Jamie was dispatched to the LTA alternative at Cambridge where coaches dismantled and destroyed his technique. He returned to Dunblane, profoundly homesick, within weeks.

His game took years to rebuild. Jamie scarcely touched a racket for months as mum picked up the pieces – an episode which did nothing to allay household doubts regarding the LTA. It explains why, years later, Andy delivered a lacerating rant about how they "ruined" his brother's career.

Mum has a love-hate relationship with the governing body. She has been employed by them. Her sons eventually secured funding from them. The LTA support her Scottish initiative, Tennis on the Road, and the Miss-Hits programme for girls. Yet she can be a vocal critic, saying £40m spent on the national centre at Roehampton would have been better used on a network of 40 centres across the UK. This while captaining the Federation Cup squad for the LTA.

Her influence on the boys is so well documented it hardly needs elaboration, but other sports should be filleting her knowledge and experience, adopting and adapting to create their own champions. She clearly has something other sports lack. It's not coincidence that this has happened from a modest Stirlingshire backwater. Might not the under-performing Scottish Football Association learn something?

This lateral thinking already operates in reverse. Business is more adept at learning from others, with Sir Alex Ferguson lecturing executives at Harvard Business School. It's a mystery to me why Mrs Murray is not more in demand.

When she was trying to guide her sons, she unashamedly sought help. Among those she talked to was Frank Dick, GB head coach during a golden age of athletics. His particular skill was constructing systems, but he had already moved on, advising on motivation and coaching methods which transferred to a range of sports, even something as disparate from athletics as F1. Boris Becker, Boba Zivojinovic, and Mary Jo Fernandez were among the tennis players he had helped. So Judy picked Frank's brains, and learned.

Dick is wont to quote Italian general Giulio Douhet: "Victory smiles upon those who anticipate the changes in the character of war, not upon those who wait to adapt themselves after the changes occur."

He reckons Murray has that attribute. "She is a very gifted person, in how she has managed and steered the boys in what was in many instances an obstructive system," he said yesterday. "She has a great deal more to give. She is already a great performance manager. And she is not only about her sons. The difference between her and the Williams' father is that she was at the centre of quite a growth in tennis in Scotland."

As national coach, on a salary of £25,000 and with a budget of £90,000, her development squad included Colin Fleming, Jamie Baker, the late Elena Baltacha, plus her own sons. By 2004 three of the boys were among the top 25 in the world – more than the USA, France, or Russia.

When she returned from Andy's second US Junior victory, she thought sportscotland would invest in development. They declined. They were not interested in junior Grand Slam wins. "I realised I was batting my head against a brick wall, so I resigned," she explained later.

With a £40,000 mortgage on the family home, Murray began the following year ranked 407 in the world. By the end of it he had beaten Tim Henman and Greg Rusedski and he and Jamie had helped Scotland beat England 4½-2½ in the inaugual Aberdeen Cup. And Andy was world No.64.

Judy has now helped conquer significantly greater peaks. How? That's the question she needs to be asked.