Andy Murray has gone from misunderstood to a much-loved British icon like David Attenborough

Even if Andy Murray had washed up at Wembley Stadium on Friday night wearing a Jimmy Hat, kilt and singing about Diego Maradona scoring against England to the tune of the hokey cokey, it is doubtful if it would have impacted upon his glorious reception at the O2.

There are entrances, and then there are entrances reserved the very best of British cultural royalty.

Murray’s rousing march into a raucous arena for Monday night's World Tour finals opener would not have been bettered if he had been joined in Greenwich by Paul McCartney, Mary Berry, Morrissey or David Attenborough.

Yet his burgeoning status has been cemented by an almost miraculous rise to the summit of the men’s game.

This flower of Scotland is suddenly in full bloom. Murray's big night out went according to plan and more as he largely outmuscled Marin Cilic 6-3 6-2, enjoying a read on his opponent's thumping serve with more vision than a soothsayer to justify his lofty standing.

After seven years as world number two, Murray is no longer the nearly man. His effort in overhauling Novak Djokovic, who many view already view as the greatest to lift a racket, at the top of the rankings has not been lost on the Great British public, 17,000 of whom welcomed Murray on court with as much relish as a world heavyweight boxing contender.

Anthony Joshua will do well to replicate such scenes when he fights Eric Molina next month.

How times and minds have changed. It was a decade ago when Murray was taken out of context when he made a jibe about England competing at the 2006 World Cup finals when he joked he would "support whoever England were playing against".

Many of his detractors in England did not see the funny side, and used those comments as a source to justify their dislike of the boy from Dunblane, but gradually people have grown to admire Murray’s refusal to settle for second best.

England and Scotland may remain fierce foes in football, but they are both strong advocates of Murray's characteristics. He has a sense of British identity that is best summed up by a bulldog spirit. He is not a man to get carried away with his achievements, and has become a master of understatement.

His shyness has often been misconstrued as arrogance when all Murray was about was self-improvement. The callowness and reticence of youth has been replaced by a mature married father, who on the cusp of 30 is happy to talk at length.

Rather than being a dour Scot, he has a self-deprecating and dry sense of humour, and is a figure comfortable in his own under armour.

Perhaps that is why there seems to be a distinct change in his gait. No longer does he has have to try to be the best. The rankings do that for you.

This was the first time Murray has been introduced to a British audience as world number one.

From misunderstood to much-celebrated, one suspects he is only beginning to reap what he has sown.