The Observer Consider this sequence of events. Brazil's Gustavo 'Guga' Kuerten, in the fourth round when he held a match point on his serve in the third set, but lost in five. Not right, of course. Opposing him will be the thirteenth-seeded Spaniard, Alex Corretja, who will be appearing in his second Grand Slam final, having lost here in 1998 to Carlos Moya. Taking results in isolation to produce form lines never has been a reliable indicator in any sport, and the essential thing is that Kuerten went on to beat Russell after being confronted with that match point.
Great players tend to do that, which is the reason they are great.
Nerves of steel, iced blood in his veins - explain it how you will, it's the stuff of champions. Kuerten did something else pretty classy after that match. He drew a monster heart in the clay with his racket, dropped to his knees inside it and blew kisses to the crowd. Still improvising after the action is over. It's what we've come to expect in Brazilian sportsmen, notably the footballers, and if the basis of Kuerten's game is relentlessly to hit long, raking groundstrokes that wear opponents down, there is also something engagingly different about him as he shambles around the court in ill-fitting clothes, feet unathletically splayed, flashing his crooked smile and apparently ruminating on something taking place in a parallel universe.