Ever since St. George slayed that fearsome fire-breathing dragon, we English have worshipped our sporting heroes with near fundamentalist fervour.
Sadly for a nation so hungry for heroes, 2006 was a crushing reminder of how few we have. Uninspired in the World Cup in Germany, under-prepared on our Australian cricket tour, and unrecognizable at Twickenham (the home of rugby), our three-pronged team assault on planet sport ended in miserable failure. Sports Personality of the Year — showjumper Zara Phillips? Exactly.
With "annus sporting horribilis" finally over, Andy Murray stepped into the Melbourne sun last month to help the media banish dispair under a big rock and usher in the class of 2007. Sven who? Freddie who?
Ironically, like St. George back in the day, Murray isn't even English. On a sporting landscape where the four corners of Britain engage largely in a bitter and liberal hatred of each other, the new hero of English tennis has his own tartan. Isn't it amazing how flexible the boundaries of national identity become when we need a champion?
"He could be a bigger star than Wayne Rooney," said Mark Petchey some time ago.
Ultimately, he was right. Murray is already one of the most marketable talents in this country. Alongside him in a list of this year's potential dragon slayers are Lewis Hamilton of formula one racing, Theo Walcott of Arsenal, and the rejuvenated running machine Paula Radcliffe. The gulf left by David Beckham beckons.
For prospective sports stars around the globe, England must seem an increasingly tempting option for citizenship. Where some countries reward only achievement, little more than passport and potential can earn some serious money on this island. Ask Greg Rusedski.
And so, with the sense of national desperation tangible, will the real hero of English sport please stand up — wherever you're from. Here's looking to 2007, the year of dead dragons.
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