Andy Murray shook free 77 years of unwanted history as we suspected he might, unaware of exactly how it happened and grateful for the affection of a nation that helped him beat Novak Djokovic in three pulsating, ragged sets to win Wimbledon on the sunniest of Sundays.

It was one of those moments that will forever be bathed in a glow of palpable warmth, from the crowd and the skies above the opened roof of Centre Court.

That the tennis that preceded the most nerve-shredding of final moments varied hugely in quality did not matter. Murray, stretching emotions to the limit, needed four match points to break the resistance of the toughest fighter in tennis and said afterwards: "I have no idea what happened. I don't know how long it was. Sorry."

But he has nothing to be sorry for. All that counted in the end were the numbers and they should be etched in the national psyche alongside those that football left us: 4-2 and 1966. After just three hours and nine minutes – way quicker than nearly anyone expected – Murray beat Djokovic 6-4, 7-5, 6-4. Now we can say for a little while yet that the last British player to win the men's singles championship at Wimbledon was Andy Murray, the first one, too, in shorts. Thank you, Fred Perry, we will leave you in peace.

Murray laid that ghost with all his idiosyncrasies intact, the nerves and the grimaces, the amazing gets and the odd inexplicable blunder. There was a healthy level of good serving, with nine aces and only two double faults, lots of running in the stifling heat and a determination to beat the world No1 into the green grass.

Djokovic was as gracious as we knew he would be. "The bottom line [is] he was the better player in decisive moments," the Serb said. "He was getting some incredible points on the stretch, running down the drop shots all over the court. He played fantastic tennis, no question. I believed I could come back but it wasn't my day."

So, their "professional friendship", as Murray said earlier, is undisturbed. As for absent friends, Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer will be emphatically reminded that their hegemony is over. They will come again, no doubt, but not with the certainty that marked their long reign at the top.

The world No1 and No2 players were the rightful finalists here. They may be again in New York in September and Australia after that. This is a journey worth following. Yet the match was not at all what we had expected. In their three previous grand slam deciders they had gone to the very limits in a total of 12 sets. Here there were three. But Murray says they were every bit as draining, every bit as tough.

He had seven break points inside 20 minutes before cracking the Djokovic serve in the third game with a beautifully disguised backhand down the line. There were to be several more of those.

Dropping serve immediately after a break is a bad habit Murray looked to have kicked but he faltered to let Djokovic off the hook at 2-2 and it would set the pattern for both of them for most of the match. Murray had 17 chances to break and took seven of them. Djokovic broke Murray four times from 13 opportunities. That created the difference in the end.

The elements also played a role. Murray, who does not like wearing a cap, repeatedly caught the sun in his eyes on his ball toss to double-fault twice, aced and fought through three deuce points to hold in the eighth game.

Djokovic, who was gesturing to his box about his breathing, held serve to stay in the set as word filtered through from the umpire's office that the court temperature was 49C with little or no breeze save that from the distant wafting of fans among the baked gathering. This was a day when the ritual brow-wiping between points was more than a muscle-memory tic.

After an hour's absorbing tennis, Murray pocketed the first set to love, serving too big and too accurately for Djokovic. There was a curious but fair symmetry to one set of numbers: Djokovic hit 17 unforced errors in the set and six winners, Murray hit six unforced errors and 17 winners.

Djokovic looked a little weary and impatient with his lapses but his frustration bloomed into grit and he was soon striking the ball fiercely again, just as Murray's consistency dipped. He dropped serve in the fourth game of the second set with the sloppiest of netted forehands. When Djokovic held without fuss to lead 4-1 after an hour and a half, he bristled with energy again. Murray clung to his towel like a security blanket between points, imploring his box to do, well, who knows what?

The net became peskier, the sun more irritating – he had finally reached for his cap – and he was relying on mistakes at the other end to help him rediscover his zest. It returned almost as quickly as it had disappeared, as Djokovic double-faulted at the end of the seventh game.

There was no clear dominance on either side of the net. What had started as an even and engaging struggle of high quality had become a lottery of missed opportunities. Then, with no challenges left, at 5-5 and 15-all on his serve, Djokovic went ballistic, a rare sight.

Murray undercut a return that floated near the baseline at the Serb's feet and was called good. It enraged this normally imperturbable competitor that the chair umpire refused to overrule the call and his anger got the better of him when he belted a forehand into the tape to give Murray the serve for a two-set lead. He did it with an ace. Djokovic's error count mounted steadily in the final set, hitting 40 in the end, nearly twice as many as his tormentor. Murray was calmer but not by much.

Djokovic lost eight points in a row and Boris Becker observed of Murray: "He can smell the roses but he's still a long way from them." As he moved more confidently over his favourite lawn, he seemed to know exactly where he was going: the shortest route to history. It was so close. He dropped serve for the fourth time to give Djokovic a look. But the roses reappeared on the edge of the garden when, riddled again with doubt, Djokovic drilled the net from behind the baseline.

So, at 5.11pm, Andy Murray went up to the mark and did his duty. His brain must have been hurting as much as his every muscle. He took three championship points as if plucking them from a tree, then we watched in horror as Djokovic fought his way back, in a see-sawing end to a see-sawing match.

And then, when he could fight no longer, Djokovic drove his final shot into the net and Wimbledon went utterly bonkers for the slightly bonkers but wholly wonderful young man from Dunblane.