There is a distinction between controlling a surface or a tournament over a long period of time — like Thomas Muster on clay or Bjorn Borg at Wimbledon, for example — and having a tyrannical hold over it. In the first case, it seems that the player is working hard — blood, guts, sweat, toil — to hang on to his crown. In the latter, he repeatedly crushes opponents with such ruthless simplicity that it appears he will never be beaten.

In his early days, a great top-spin pass, hit at an unbelievable angle, was never enough reason for Federer to pump his fists in ecstasy. He could hit five variations of that same shot any time he wanted; what was brilliant for others was normal to him. He won, but for all his elegance, it made him incredibly boring once the novelty had worn out.

Over the last two years, however, the world has started to catch up. And Rafael Nadal, by beating him consistently since 2008, has done his Swiss rival a great favour — he’s made him appear more human. Even in this Wimbledon final, Andy Roddick’s heroic all-or-nothing effort in the final — which included the longest last set in any major championship in history— allowed us to cheer Federer’s victory more freely, with more passion. Much better than when he had brushed Roddick aside in 2004 and 2005.

Every great sporting hero needs a great rival. In a game like golf, where you’re not shooting bullets at each other but simply doing your own thing, that rival can be yourself — which is what makes Tiger Woods, the other great genuinely great sporting icon of our times, more easy to appreciate. Now that Federer has found not one worthy adversary, but two or three (Andy Murray has a 6-2 record against him), it’s going to be a lot easier for many of us to applaud him, to admire him without reservations, and to celebrate his results with greater emotional investment.

... contd.