Jonny McCambridge: My part in the success of the tennis star Emma Raducanu

I like to think of myself as a creature of reason.
Not only did Emma Raducanu lose the point I watched live but she injured her leg. The awful truth was never more apparent to me.  I was the jinx.  The JonahNot only did Emma Raducanu lose the point I watched live but she injured her leg. The awful truth was never more apparent to me.  I was the jinx.  The Jonah
Not only did Emma Raducanu lose the point I watched live but she injured her leg. The awful truth was never more apparent to me. I was the jinx. The Jonah

By this, I mean that I prefer to make decisions and judgements based on evidence, on factors that have been proven.

I want to, as best as I am able, grasp my truths by the hand.

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But, being human and fallible, there are times when these lofty ambitions spectacularly break down.

A fine example of this is an illogical, superstitious relationship with sport.

I care way too much about contests which really should have no capacity to alter my state one way or the other.

I am often a bundle of nerves when viewing sport. I struggle to think about the truly important things in my life if there is a big match on. If my team or player wins, it can make me happier.

A negative outcome can result in misery.

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But the malaise runs deeper. There is a defective part of my brain which tells me that my level of attention has a bearing on the outcome.

Put more simply, I have come to believe that if I watch, then the team or player I am supporting will lose.

To be clear, I know this to nonsensical.

It is so obviously erroneous that I am quite embarrassed to type it. But it remains the case, and no amount of cold, hard logic can shake that persistent voice in my head.

For no sensible reason I can offer, I am a fan of the New England Patriots American football team. In 2007, the team completed the stunning feat of qualifying for the Super Bowl without losing a single game in the entire season.

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I convinced myself that I had to sit up through the night to experience this Super Bowl and the completion of a historic sporting achievement — the unbeaten season.

I watched that night as the Patriots lost to the unfancied New York Giants and went to bed in the early hours certain that I had altered the course of events.

I also follow the career of the great snooker player Ronnie O’Sullivan. For what is essentially a silly game with balls on a table, O’Sullivan has often elevated it to something close to an art form. But he has usually done this when I am not watching.

When I tune in, a metamorphosis occurs, and he becomes like a player at my local snooker club after a few pints on a Friday night. O’Sullivan’s unpredictability has led pundits and commentators to label him enigmatic.

Little do they know that exterior forces are at work.

It goes on.

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Ireland have won rugby matches simply because I have forced myself to go for a long walk when they play.

Europe have triumphed in Ryder Cups because I have insisted on going outside to mow the lawn just before a vital putt.

Manchester United have lifted trophies because I run a bath at crunch moments.

It was during Wimbledon that I first became aware of teenage tennis player Emma Raducanu. I did not watch her victories in the early rounds but was aware of the growing excitement around her game.

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Viewing delayed highlights, I was immediately struck by the excellence of her shot-making.

And so, I watched her last 16 match against Ajla Tomljanovic, which was being shown live on primetime TV by the BBC.

Raducanu played poorly that night. It soon became clear that she was unwell and had to retire from the match with breathing difficulties. This was a worrying new departure.

Not only was I able to negatively impact the outcome of the match, but my viewing was now seemingly leading to the onset of respiratory issues.

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Several months later and Raducanu was blasting an astonishing trail through the rounds of the US Open in New York. I kept an eye on her progress, but not too closely.

With the teenager in command of her quarter final tie and serving for the win, I finally decided to turn on the telly.

Raducanu lost the next two points to fall 0-30 behind. I clicked off the TV. She duly won the next four points to take the match.

By the time the final was played, much of the country seemed to be gripped with excitement about the teenage tennis star. I felt that the responsibility upon my shoulders was a heavy one. To give Raducanu the best possible opportunity of winning the tournament, I knew that I could not watch the match. But I had to go further. I could not follow its progress online.

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I could not respond to any messages or even check social media.

I had to essentially pretend that there was no tennis match taking place, even though it dominated my thoughts.

For two hours I suffered in agony. Eventually, in a state of high anxiety, I checked the score online. Raducanu was within a few points of winning the title.

Believing the danger to have passed, I turned on the TV. I watched one point live.

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Not only did Raducanu lose it but she injured her leg and the match had to be stopped while she received medical treatment.

The awful truth was never more apparent to me.

I was the jinx.

The Jonah.

Not only did the fate of the match rest in my hands, but also, it seemed, did Raducanu’s very health and wellbeing.

I turned the TV off again and went into the back garden where I paced nervously in the dark. Eventually, after an interminable delay, a news alert flashed on my phone. Emma Raducanu had won the US Open.

I was stunned by the scale of the achievement, the unbelievable commitment and courage, the sacrifices that had been made.

I congratulated myself.

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I realised how drained I felt so I went back indoors and sat down. Then I watched a re-run of the match. I noticed Raducanu’s poise and mental strength, her unshakeable desire to win. I also saw her undiluted joy and beaming smile as she lifted the trophy.

I smiled too. If only she knew.

It now seems certain that Emma Raducanu will have a successful and dazzling career.

And I will be right there every step of the way, not watching it.

• Previous columns by Jonny McCambridge below, and beneath that information on how to subscribe to the News Letter

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Jonny McCambridge Sep 1: Willy Loman and my antique dishwasher

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