On Saturday afternoon, Andy Murray conducted television interviews, chatted with John McEnroe, signed hats, giant tennis balls, programmes and somebody’s arm and somehow managed, through this madness, to monitor his fantasy soccer team (name: Formality) via cell phone.

He seemed relaxed, pleasant and happy, except with Formality’s seventh-place standing in the league. Yet the scene seemed at odds with Murray as commonly portrayed: the sour, dour Scottish tennis player who wears both Adidas and a perpetual frown.

Perhaps this is because Murray, 23, loves New York, loves the hardcourts at the US Open and the sushi at Nobu and the first Grand Slam after Wimbledon, where his every movement comes under extreme scrutiny. Or perhaps Murray is different, more nuanced, more layered, than normally presented.

“There’s this coldness about him that I didn’t see,” said Mark Petchey, an early Murray coach. “Underneath it all, he’s tough, obviously, but caring, affectionate. That’s a difficult image to portray because we like to stereotype people, we like to put people in boxes, and you can’t do that with Andy. He doesn’t fit in one category.”

On Wednesday, Murray see­med quite at home at Flushing Meadows, destroying Lukas Lacko in his first-round match,

a tidy 6-3, 6-2, 6-2 trouncing.

For nearly two hours, Murray, the No 4 seed, played with his usual assortment of tennis artistry.

He crushed inside-out forehands and mixed in the occasional deft drop shot and even one volley

lob that showcased superb to-

uch. When the match ended, Murray tossed his wristbands

into the crowd.

At first, Murray comes across as shy, dry, sarcastic and uninterested. But away from the usual topics — the British media, his search for a new coach, his mother, Judy — his personality comes alive.

For instance, Murray admires boxers. He went to his first fight at age 13 and immediately identified with the men inside the ring. Like him, they are surrounded by staff, trainers, publicists and coaches, yet both find comfort in lonely, individual pursuits. Like him, they alter strategy based on opponents or momentum.

Murray takes a punch-counterpunch approach to tennis. Petchey described him as analytical, a deep thinker, a strategist at heart. Brad Gilbert, another former coach, said Murray practised yoga and came across as “chilled”, despite his penchant for spirited debate.

The difference between the public and private perception of Murray leads to a “misconception,” Petchey said, “of who he is as a person”.

To which Murray responded: “People don’t really know you until they meet you. Certainly not from something they see on television or an article they read”.

Petchey began working with Murray at Wimbledon in 2005. A year later, Murray had leapt inside the top 50 in the ATP World Tour rankings.

The spotlight proved glaring, even early on. In Britain, Murray found a kingdom desperate for a male Grand Slam winner (the wait stands at 74 years and counting). In Murray, Britain found a player with

legitimate talent to end that drought.