Tim Henman: 'It's a sack of crap to say that I was too nice to win'

Brian Viner Interviews: In retirement, the former British No 1 has a different perspective on his role as 'nearly man', especially from his new position in the commentary box

Friday, 27 June 2008

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David Ashdown

'I honestly never felt this burden people talk about,' says Henman

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There could hardly have been more symbolism on Tuesday evening if Tim Henman had wandered on to Centre Court and ceremonially handed Andy Murray a baton, inscribed "repository of a nation's hopes". As Murray's Wimbledon campaign began against Fabrice Santoro, Henman was sitting scarcely 10 yards away in the BBC commentary box, back in his favourite arena, but this time unfeted, as a paid onlooker, with nobody chanting his name or even looking at him. He loved it.

Which is not to say that he didn't love it more when he was out there in the middle, with thousands in the crowd and millions more at home cheering his every winner down the line, and dying with every volley into the net. But sitting behind the microphone feels right. And he is good at it, too; relaxed, eloquent, and at last able to demonstrate the keen wit that we have always been told he has, even if we could never believe it of a man with such a sensible haircut and such genteel parents.

"I really enjoyed it," he told me afterwards. "Although being back on Centre Court, even though it was absolutely the right time for me to retire, I thought for the first time that it would have been fun to go out there and have a hit. It's a special place."

I meet him first deep inside the labyrinth that is BBC Television Centre, where golf, not tennis, is on his mind, Tiger Woods having just won the US Open on one leg. "A joke, isn't it?" says Henman, a three-handicapper who admits to having watched considerably more golf than tennis since his retirement last September. He stayed up late as the tension rose in California, even though he was at his flat in London and it was a chance, rare these days, to get a solid night's sleep away from the children (five-year-old Rosie, three-year-old Olivia, and Grace, nine months). "I do think that 18 hole play–offs are rubbish, though. I remember a play-off a few years ago, was it Retief Goosen against Mark Brooks or someone, and they were dismantling the stands while it was going on. Talk about losing the moment."

Henman knows about losing the moment. At Wimbledon against Goran Ivanisevic seven years ago he stood just three games from making the final, only for a combination of rain and Croatian ferocity to deny him the best opportunity he ever had of winning. It makes him chuckle, though, when people say that the title would have been his if only he'd prevailed over Goran. "I would have played [Pat] Rafter in the final, a two-times US Open champion. He wasn't bad."

I refer him to the comments made by a man who did win at Wimbledon, the junior champion there in 1966 and later a fairly useful rugby player, J P R Williams. In a Sunday newspaper interview recently, J P R echoed the assertion that Henman never quite realised his potential on the world's tennis courts because he was "too nice". This "too nice" business must really get his goat, I venture.

He laughs, but mirthlessly. "I think it's a sack of crap," he says. "If you play at that level, you've got to be pretty good at what you do. I've had a little bit of time to reflect on my career, not that I do it a great deal, and the underlying theme to all of this is, what is success? What is success? Is it being a pro player able to make a living out of the game, is it being in the top 100, the top 50, the top 10? I know that in every facet of the game, in preparation, training, tournaments, I gave 100 per cent. I got everything I could out of my career, but it's part of our culture, the environment I've been brought up in [to criticise]. I don't have a problem with it."

Is the cruel truth, then, that he didn't quite have the game? A smile. "This is a good question. I think I was good enough to win a Slam, but I think there were people better than me. Does that make sense? Look at the people who won Slams during my era, the era of Sampras and Agassi overlapping with Federer. Johansson won the Australian Open in that time, Gaudio won the French ... and if you look at the matches I played getting to the semis at Wimbledon, if I was good enough to reach that stage, I was good enough to win it. Having said that, I lost to Sampras twice at Wimbledon, to Hewitt when he was one in the world, to Federer at the US Open. I think with due respect to myself that they were better than me."

Henman is a fully paid-up member of the camp that believes Federer to be better than anyone who has ever wielded a racket. "I played Sampras seven times, and he was a phenomenal player, don't get me wrong, but there were elements of his game that you felt you could attack. If you were serving well he wasn't necessarily going to hurt you that much with his return. Likewise with Agassi, if you could be aggressive and take his time away, you could have some impact. But with Roger you're up against it on every point, whether you're serving or receiving. I hope he wins. He's a good friend and it would be amazing to see him win six in a row."

Like the rest of us, Henman can't see past Nadal, especially now that Djokovic is out, as the only man likely to deny Federer his sixth title. "What Nadal did in seven days at Queen's was unbelievable. His competitive spirit, his mind, his hunger, are just phenomenal. There's no let up. To win the French, and there he is the next week playing as if his life depended on it, on grass. I can't tell you how difficult that is.

"The interesting thing is that when Federer beats Nadal on grass, everyone says Federer is the greatest player ever, which in my opinion is right, but when Nadal beats Federer on clay, everyone says Federer hasn't quite got it on clay. Yet Nadal, in my opinion, is the best clay-court player who's ever played the game. We're so lucky to have them at the same time. And, of course, grass-court tennis has changed, which is a big factor in why Nadal and other clay-court players can play so well on grass. The ball bounces so high now."

The change dates from 2002, when the Wimbledon grass was resown. "In 2001, when I beat Federer," Henman recalls, without appearing to savour those words as much as he might, "he served and volleyed 100 per cent of the time. Yet last year in the final he served and volleyed just 16 per cent on his first serve and zero per cent on his second serve. That shows you how much it has changed out there. In 2002, Hewitt and Nalbandian made the final. I played Hewitt in one semi, having beaten Andre Sa in the quarters. Most of those are guys who couldn't have got so far before, and it's all to do with the texture of the grass."

None of which explains why Henman, and now Murray, are such lonely standard-bearers for British tennis, whether on grass or anything else. That there should currently be a snowball's chance in hell of a British woman winning Wimbledon, or a British man other than Murray, Henman finds as dispiriting as the rest of us. Yet he rejects my assertion that there simply aren't enough decent courts around the country.

"That's such a weak excuse. Look at Serbia, do they have amazing facilities, money to invest? This is where I get frustrated with the players. They're always blaming the LTA, and the funding, but it's not about the LTA, it's not about coaches, it's about individuals maximising their potential. And the only way they will do it is if they go out and work their socks off to be as good as they can be. We do have money for tennis in this country but it's a double-edged sword; kids think it's all going to be handed to them on a plate. But if I can get into the world's top 10, if Andy can, then with enough ability, motivation, determination and dedication, others can too. There's no point waiting for some switch to be flicked."

Has he talked to Murray about the burden of shouldering a nation's expectations? He smiles. "I honestly never felt this burden people talk about. You approach matches selfishly at this level. When I was on court I wasn't playing for all those people in the crowds, or the millions watching on TV, I was doing it for myself. The support was fantastic, of course, but if I'd had that 'hopes of a nation' mindset, I wouldn't have been able to hit a shot. There was plenty of pressure, but it was all self-inflicted."

And without the pressure, without the tennis, what's he doing with himself? "I'd love to be able to reel off a list of things I've done since I stopped, how many languages I now speak fluently, but there aren't that many. Travelling's a bit of a busman's holiday, so I haven't done much of that. We went on a brilliant skiing holiday with a group of friends, which was the first time I've skied in 25 years. I couldn't ski when I was playing because of the risk of injury, so it was fantastic to get out there and not have to worry about falling. Mainly, though, I've been at home. I always used to go to the States at the end of July and stay there until the beginning of September, so to have the whole summer at home is fantastic. I've played a lot of golf. I played five days in a row last week."

He is a member at Sunningdale, as is his BBC colleague Gary Lineker, a four-handicapper. Has he played much with Lineker? "Once or twice. He beat me the last time we played." A pause. "It was a while ago. I've just about erased it from my mind."

Clearly, the old competitive fire still burns. But not on the tennis court. He has played only once in earnest since retiring, a charity match against Stefan Edberg. I ask whether we might see him in the Wimbledon Over-35s when he qualifies in two years' time? "Yeah, maybe. Some of the others rave about it, they say it's so much fun." So we could yet see a revival of Henmania, on the outside courts? The tiniest of winces. "Hopefully not," he says.