Andy Murray showed flashes of his former self in his doubles defeat at Wimbledon... he was not held together by sutures and sticky tape but the clock has him cornered now, writes RIATH AL-SAMARRAI

It was 7.06pm when Andy Murray made his walk onto Centre Court for the most hyped game of doubles this old place may ever know. That he was four minutes late says rather a lot about a man searching for one last win in his war against time.

It’s nearly up now, of course. Try as he might, that clock has got him cornered and has counted him down to the last few ticks and checkpoints, which in the context of his staggered goodbye to Wimbledon means only the mixed doubles with Emma Raducanu remains.

His hope, futile in all minds beyond his own maybe, was that he had enough in the tank for a run in the doubles with his big brother Jamie. One last charge. One more chance to show he could pull it off, just 12 days after his spine was introduced to umpteenth knife of his career.

Naturally, they gave it a go, they had a swing. He shouted, he clenched fists, he pulled off a few shots, but it wasn’t there - they were beaten by John Peers and Rinky Hijikata, which most people expected, to the extent the All England Club were ready to go with a tribute in the minutes after the Murrays boys were beaten. Sue Barker quickly appeared, so too Tim Henman, Novak Djokovic and a variety of the game’s great and good.

There was a slight awkwardness about that. Partly because we have been here before, in 2019 when the Australian Open ran a montage ahead of a retirement that didn’t come, and partly because Murray still has at least one match to run on these grounds this Saturday and from there he has plans to play at the Olympics.

But it is Wimbledon where his presence is most sharply felt. Where he had his most profound moments, be it the two titles that ended an immense wait or the Olympic gold that added to the legacy of one of Britain’s greatest ever athletes. He was repeatedly on the brink of tears as Barker took him on a walk through those memories, including his own disclosure that his after-party in 2016 led to him throwing up drunk in his taxi home.

Finally, there was an admission that has long been obvious: ‘I want to play forever. I love the sport. I don’t want to stop so it is hard.’ We could see that in a match where the ambient mood encompassed curiosity. What kind of state would he be in? How limited would he be, given he has not yet regained full feeling in his right leg since surgery to remove a spinal cyst?

If that invited thoughts of a lame man staggering to the grass, pieced together by sutures and sticky tape, then the reality was less dramatic. He was heavier on his feet, a notch slower, and shade upright in the serve, but he was present in all the ways we know so well. Familiar ways. Ways of summers past.

We had fist-pumping Andy - that was happening in the second game. We also had the Andy who gives himself a hard time - game four.

They are the enduring images of his career. The images of struggle, angst, of a man on a mission to squeeze the last drop, even in a game of doubles that was ceremonial to almost all watching it.

Naturally, there were touches of class, like the lost cause he salvaged at 5-5, when he threw that decrepit body into a sudden sprint at a drop volley and turned the point on its head. You can find metaphors for his entire career in those moments and you can find his fire just as easily - when he forced a break at the start of the second set, having lost the first on a tiebreaker, he was roaring as if this was a march towards another title. The beauty is that in his head, and perhaps his alone, it was.

Those prospects slipped when Hijikata and Peers broke back for 2-2 and was soon remoter still when the next break followed. It was soon game over for the doubles and it will soon be over in a more meaningful way.