INVINCIBILITY has its drawbacks. The main one is the knowledge that it is a temporary quality. Roger Federer doesn't strike you as paranoid, but he must be experiencing similar emotions to a Caesar wondering whether to trust lean or tubby associates, or a Marlo Stanfield wondering who is going to usurp his position as the West Baltimore drugs kingpin.
Given the ease with which Federer negotiated his way through the first week at Wimbledon, you wonder whether it was really necessary for him to remove his preppy knitwear before taking to the court. His only serious threat in his half of the draw, hi
s French Open nemesis Novak Djokovic, has been removed by that obliging Russian maverick Marat Safin.
Unless the tennis world tips suddenly on its axis, the chippy Aussie choker Lleyton Hewitt shouldn't be able to dent his Swiss insouciance today, and further down the line neither Mario Ancic nor Marcos Baghdatis is likely to be more than an amusing playmate for a set before being sideswiped.
When his Wimbledon reign ends, the successor is almost certain to be his sartorial opposite in the other half of the draw, Rafael Nadal. The two of them have been carving up the men's tennis prizes like 19th century imperialists for the last couple of years. Nadal has established mastery in France, and now his challenge at Wimbledon is credible enough to merit a series of thrusting little arrows pointing at south-east England, like the Dad's Army opening credits.
Nadal's heroic resistance in last year's Wimbledon final was a grass-court calling card, an indication that he had matured enough tactically to be able to tweak his game to suit the surface. His game has more variety now, and victory at Queen's Club buoyed his confidence.
Nadal's power and athleticism have to be countered by the same, plus some calculating intelligence. The Spanish player can afford to look at the draw and see plenty of decent players, but none whose number he does not already have in the pocket of his baggy beach shorts.
The only potential exception is the improving No 12 seed from Dunblane who is now third favourite for the tournament (albeit at 20-1). Andy Murray's camp has been swift to play down any chances of Wimbledon success this year, throwing big buckets of cold water over any embers of hope for a British victory. That wasn't entirely necessary. The dumb patriots of Henman Hill seem inoculated against contracting Murray mania, put off by rumours that the man might be, gasp, Scottish, with an on-court demeanour that is miles away from the plucky self-deprecation and rueful grins and grimaces they expect from a Brit.
Murray himself has done the best job of discouraging optimism with a record in Grand Slam tournaments that is substantially less impressive than his world ranking. His career is still a little too fresh and a little too punctuated by injury to encourage generalisations, but Murray has yet to experience anything like the big stage. It would be in line with his past displays in major tournaments if Murray succumbed to the talented but fragile Richard Gasquet this afternoon. A victory would mean Murray's first grand slam quarter-final.
Not so long ago it was accepted wisdom that Murray's game was more suited to the US Open than Wimbledon, that he might not have the armoury to win his "home" grand slam (although it's difficult to think of an arena in which Murray would seem less at home than the twitchy-curtained, Telegraph-and-Robinsons Barley Water cloisters of Wimbledon). That has changed, as has Murray's game. As an example, those who widely ridiculed his recent passion for the drop shot have had to learn to admire the swift and effective way he has mastered its deployment. Always a stubborn opponent, Murray has now become an unpredictable, devious one.
This could be another year in which Federer staves off the inevitable, and claims his 13th grand slam title. But the really compelling prospect is a possible contest between the calculating and improving Murray and the player who will have to be his realistic yardstick in the years ahead, Nadal. Murray's fans would be the more fearful, but the Spanish camp just might suffer a twinge of anticipatory anxiety.
The full article contains 733 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
