Wimbledon 2012: Tearful Andy Murray loses on court, but wins the nation's heart Between the tears though, Murray made one statement that rang out: "I'm getting closer," he said. And he is right. In his fourth grand slam final appearance he lost 4-6, 7-5, 6-3, 6-4 in three hours and 25 minutes to Federer. Unlike previous Britons nearing the summit of the nation's annual tennis fiesta, however, he did not lose because he crumpled under the weight of overexcited national expectation. He played with skill, nerve and verve. Some of his passing shots were so good they can be described properly only by recalling the noise made by the Murray fan next to the press box every time they smacked the back boards: "Oof." His problem was that he faced a man playing at the peak the game has ever attained, the player who has legitimate claim to be the finest exponent of the craft ever to pick up a racquet. As Federer took his seventh title here, equalling Pete Sampras's record, it became clear this was the day the very good met the truly great. Before the match, history had hung in the air. Thousands camped overnight in downpours for the right just to stand on the hill and watch the match on the giant screen in the All England Club grounds. When they came through the gates, people were taking pictures of everything and anything. Hundreds were queuing to snap the big statistics screen which, before a shot had been fired in anger, made pleasing reading. Andy Murray: number of unforced errors 0. Roger Federer: number of winners 0. And for those hoping to see Murray finally come good, he made the most encouraging start. In his fourth grand slam final appearance, for the first time he won a set. He played from the off as if not remotely intimidated by the place, occasion or opponent. This is the key to his personality: he is sufficiently certain of his own attributes not to be daunted by reputation. The moment he made Federer duck at the net with a fierce return had the centre court crowd gulping in anticipation that finally the old order was being upset. The trouble Murray had was that Federer allies all that elegance, grace and touch with a competitive ferocity. He simply doesn't like to lose. And, well as Murray played, gradually the Swiss began to take command. With storms threatening for the rest of the afternoon, the mechanical lid was rolled across the court. And that was when the roof caved in on Murray's dreams. From the moment the finalists returned from a rain break under cover Federer, the most accomplished indoor player in the world, was in his element. At times his play at the net was so controlled it was as if he had the ball under hypnosis. To Murray's credit, as Federer moved into the ascendant, he did not falter. He clung to the champion's coat tails, maintaining a belief in his coach Ivan Lendl's insistence that, whatever happens, you must stay in the game. He made few mistakes. As he did so he provided sufficient material for a PhD in body language. When Federer won a point, or moved towards a break in a game Murray would look crest fallen. His head would drop, his toes point together, his knees would seemingly sink. The next shot, however, he would produce a 130mph ace or a magnificent cross-court winner and his fist would pump and he would turn to the crowd with a insistent cry of "c'mon." And c'mon they did. As Federer moved towards victory they did their best to stay the inevitable. For the first time in centre court history, the place rang out to football-style chanting of the home hero's name. In the end it was not enough. Murray could not overcome genius. And as Federer made his way back to Berne with the £1,150,000 prize money the thoughts of those going home turned to other things. To Bradley Wiggins in the Tour de France, to Mo Farah and Jessica Ennis in the Olympics, to the other moments ahead to inspire Britain's collective mood. Future moments which will, undoubtedly, include more from Murray.