TOMORROW they meet in the quarters, Russian and Swiss. Nikolay Davydenko is amused by his new status, Roger Federer is unamused by Davydenko's recent hold on him. After 12 straight wins, twice he has lost recently to the Russian running man. It is two times too many.

Still, athletes must ensure defeat does not get to them, so they twist it, turn it. Federer reminds us those were three-set matches, this is five sets. It favours the better player and he is the better player.

Federer shows his strength in a recent match at the Australian Open. PHOTO: Reuters

Yet Federer concedes the Russian moves well, returns well, and now serves well: "He would not hit his first serve, and if he would, he would miss it and then he would serve a ton of double faults. That would obviously give many more opportunities to break. (But) in Doha when I played him, he hit 27 out of 27 first serves into the court clocking them at around 190. That makes it a bit more difficult to break."

They play in the afternoon. It is supposed to be sunny. The ball will fly and this might suit the harder-hitting Federer. It may seem unimportant, but tennis matches are built on small things.

Explained Davydenko: "If you see between day session, night session, a little bit different situation. Like temperature go down and start to get cold and the balls fly not so fast like in day."

Both times he beat Federer was at night.

Tennis has old rules, ancient wisdoms, obvious advice. Like grab the first set. It's a relief. It allows you to be yourself.

Especially Federer, who calls himself a "great front-runner", and explained what it meant to have the first set in your pocket: "It's just maybe more comfortable. You don't ask yourself any questions of 'do I need to change anything around'. Because what you've been doing has been working, so you keep that up and you can go for a bit more maybe. I think that's what top guys do really well overall. If you look at it, I obviously have done it so many times I know exactly what I need to do."

Davydenko, not a regular on Rod Laver Arena like his rival, will not be intimidated. Neither will Federer. But he may be unsure.

Taking reporters on a quick journey through his mind, he said: "I'm never intimidated. Not that that's good or bad. I'm just saying that sometimes you're nervous before a match and you don't know why that is. Tonight (against Hewitt), for some reason, I was unsure if I was gonna be able to bring my best game.

"I don't know why. I told myself I got to be aggressive and go after my shots, and hopefully it's gonna work and not be a disaster. You sit down two hours later and analyse the match, and you're the happiest person alive. It's weird how it goes sometimes. (It) almost doesn't matter who or where you're playing. It's just a feeling I have inside of myself. Sometimes I feel very, very confident and I lose in straight sets."

Rohit Brijnath is in Melbourne, reporting from the Australian Open.

Read more:

Cilic edges out Roddick

Zheng through to semis

Henin through to semi-finals

China slams into history

PLAYERS don't always like to share goals. They hide them in their minds and look at them every day. They don't reveal them because this journey to them is personal. They don't share them because they don't want to be reminded they never reached them.

China's Li Na victorious at the Australian Open. PHOTO: Reuters

The girl at the press conference is not one of these people. She's not shy, she's just clear. Excellence in her mind has a number. The top 10. It's where she says she wants to be this year. The way she's going, it might not take long.

On Monday morning Li Na defeated the No. 4 seed and 2009 US Open finalist Caroline Wozniacki in straight sets, 6-4, 6-3. It means Li, who is No.17 in the world, is projected (depending on other results) to reach No.14 next week. No Chinese player has been beyond No.15.

Of course, any uncertainty about her rise in the rankings would be removed if she simply defeated her next opponent, Venus Williams. This is not a joke. In their only meeting, at the Beijing Olympics, guess who won? Not Williams.

Li wasn't thinking of this after her match. Not too much. She was busy dazzling the press.

China and tennis is not an unknown subject, for Zhang Jie and Li are old hands, but this surge together into the quarter-finals has been intriguing. The world, after all, is fascinated, and a bit fearing, of Chinese sport. It should be.

At the Beijing Olympics, it was not only how much China won, but in how many sports. In golf now, courses are sprouting everywhere; in tennis a Chinese boom is almost inevitable. Li is thus not just a tennis player but a charming path-breaker. She is an omen of what is to come.

Resolute with racket, Li was eloquent before the microphone. Queried about why the Chinese are doing well, she smiled: "Because we are working hard." Asked why she beat Wozniacki, she said: "Maybe I eat Chinese food."

Thereafter she expanded her answer, saying: "I was aggressive today. I know if I give her a chance, maybe she just beat me. So I was trying to hold on every point. I didn't want to give her chance."

A month from 28, the attractive Li, owner of a rose with a heart tattoo, wants to leave her mark behind on the game. This is her 11th year as a pro and, while time runs out, her ambition has not.

And so in a press conference of amusing answers, her perkiest was rightfully about her form. Asked if she was playing the best tennis of life, she said: "Hopefully not. I want more better." Against Venus she will have to be.

Rohit Brijnath is in Melbourne, reporting from the Australian Open.

Read more:

Serena inspired by Favre

Federer strides into quarters

Djokovic powers into quarters

Li Na upsets Wozniacki

Venus makes it to Q-finals

Roddick beats Gonzalez

EVERY time I watch live tennis I am reminded that television cannot translate speed. The sheer pace of the players, the astonishing acceleration of the ball, even the kick of the ball, this truth never quite comes through. It is why sitting at a court is a privilege.

You hear the ball rocket off the strings, race off it, spring off it, sing off it. It is amazing how women players like Justine Henin and Yanina Wickmayer (who played each other on Sunday), so slim, their arms seemingly so slight, can produce such power.

Justine Henin goes for it at the Australian Open on Sunday. PHOTO: AP

The legendary Billie Jean King, No.1 in the 1960s and early 1970s, said today: "I swear they (the women) are hitting the ball harder. I didn't think it was possible. Every two years, three years, the players, both men and women, keep hitting the ball harder and harder." Sigh, us amateurs don't. We just buy bigger rackets and hope we do.

I love watching these players, yet hate it. They heighten my incompetence as a player. Particularly I am taken by their trust in themselves. Hackers do not have this. Almost every shot, Henin takes a rip at the ball. Puts body, mind, enthusiasm, training behind it. Leaps into it. It is stunning to watch this faith, in technique, in oneself.

To actually let go and give everything to a shot, even in golf, requires a confidence the amateur doesn't own. We have not practised enough to believe the shot will land in, so we are hesitant about our skill. We play the percentages. We're safe, tentative. In our dreams we are Fernando Gonzales, who thinks restraint is a sin, but when we arrive on court we are too scared to be him.

Because Gonzales lets himself go (and, of course, because he practices), he hits lines. Repeatedly, even during his loss to Andy Roddick. It is amazing because the ball is coming to these players at a mighty pace, with extraordinary spin, at an acute angle, and yet, on the run, they just know exactly how much spin and pace to attach in reply to hit a line.

Maybe 20 times in a set they might hit within a foot of the line. Maybe 7-10 times they will hit it on the line.

If I hit one sideline in a set, I want to stop I'm so excited. But the harder line to hit is the baseline. This is also because of our tentativeness. We're so scared of the ball going out, we hit it short.

But sport is full of ironies and there is one here, too. A sweet irony. For all their rage during a point, their seemingly complete faith in themselves, when the point is over, players turn to their box. Henin looks at her coach, Carlos Rodriguez, searchingly. She wants reassurance constantly. His faith in her is as important as hers.

Rohit Brijnath is in Melbourne, reporting from the Australian Open.

Read more:

Djokovic powers into quarters

Li Na upsets Wozniacki

Venus makes it to Q-finals

Roddick beats Gonzalez

JUAN Martin del Potro comes into the interview room. He is clad in a Nike sweatshirt, but really he is wearing defeat. You can see it in his face, his walk, his posture. He looks tired. Older. Defeat takes something out of you, it deflates you. Sport is cruel that way.

Del Potro is the first of the contenders to fall at the Australian Open. He sits down before the microphones and looks down. His first match was four sets, second match five sets, third match four sets and now he has played five sets over 4hr 38min with Marin Cilic. It is too much for a man with an injured wrist and an injured foot.

Del Potro speaks softly always, but today he seems even quieter. He praises Cilic as a very fine player who has the opportunity to keep going in the tournament. It is a graceful moment and typical of him.

Someone should show Serena Williams film of this very short, very sad press conference. She doesn't do praise. After losing to Samantha Stosur last year, whom she plays tomorrow, she said: "She had a lot of lucky shots; she's a good framer." When asked about these comments the other day, Serena could not remember them.

But del Potro is very likeable, he has a lanky humility to him. Even on court his stroke violence is not offensive. He is the reigning US Open champion, expected to perform here, and it is asked if the pressure has now been lifted.

No, he says, "I enjoy the pressure". He has been down, he explains, in every match and the crowd have helped him lift, helped him keep fighting. He will remember that. He is coated in defeat now, but when he goes home he will search for positives, as athletes do, and find them. He will remember how well he wore pressure for three matches. Only then he fell.

Juan Martin del Potro of Argentina lost to Croatia's Marin Cilic.
-- PHOTO: AP

IN MELBOURNE

THIS could be the best Australian Open we have seen for a while. Who said that? Everyone. Actually, me too. But the men's section appears to be somnolent, not a major upset to be found, unless you consider Gael Monfils' early goodbye to be unusual. The Frenchman is a wonderful entertainer, but is not yet to be confused with a champion.

Elsewhere, Juan Martin Del Porto and Fernando Gonzales did some five-set sweating and Roger and Rafa produced some tight-four-setters. But that's it. The women, bless them, have given us a Clijsters collapse and two Henin masterpieces. Ana Ivanovic and Jelena Jankovic lost and could write you a thesis on how life changes for they have gone from headline stories to peripheral acts.

But patience is about to pay off with the men. They are not slumbering, merely warming up, gathering momentum for what could be a staggering second week. The big players have held on, now the collisions commence. It is time to start reading tea-leaves. What could happen as the fourth round starts tomorrow: here's a look.

In the first quarter of the draw, Federer will collide with local hero Lleyton Hewitt in the fourth round. The Swiss should prevail, but then gets either flash-man Fernando Verdasco or Nikolay Davydenko, who has been respectfully suggesting that the end of Rafa-Roger is near. This could be tasty.

The second quarter is the quietest, but hardly dull. Novak Djokovic meets Lukasz Kubot and should ease through. Thereupon, a stern test faces him for he must subdue the winner of Jo Wilfried-Tsonga and Nicolas Almagro.

Matches in the third quarter of the draw will be played at one pace. Warp speed. Andy Roddick plays Gonzales, and Marin Cilic (198cm) collides with Del Potro (198cm). My guess is Roddick and Del Potro, but don't hold me to it.

In the last quarter of the draw, two men will have to produce a master-class in returning serve to get through. The contests will be violent and amusing. Ivo Karlovic leads the ace count with 93 in three matches and plays Rafael Nadal; John Isner, is second in the ace count with 81, and confronts Andy Murray. Linesmen will be fitted out with body armour.

The possibilities are endless and exciting. One possible semi-final line-up could be Federer, Djokovic, Del Potro, Nadal. Another might be Davydenko, Tsonga, Roddick, Murray. Either way, start making excuses at work. This second week, starting tomorrow, must not be missed.

A GIRL is making news in tennis, but not for what she wins but what she reads. Germany's Andrea Petkovic is intriguing because she devours Goethe, admires Che Guevera, speaks four languages, is studying for a political science degree and writes a column for a conservative newspaper back home. She is also only 22 and hits a pretty neat forehand as well. Did I mention she wants to start a political party eventually?

Yesterday, Petkovic, who was born in Bosnia, lost, but it hardly mattered. A few journalists tired of monosyllable answers and tired cliches, flocked to her. So did I. She did not disappoint. She shook everyone's hand, answered every question, and spoke not just about forehands but Dostoevsky, politics and intelligence. It was delightful.

It is believed, without adequate proof, that the best athletes are not deep thinkers, but simply obey instinct. But Petkovic was not so sure. "I think Roger Federer is very intelligent, and every time you think he can't get any better, he comes back and improves a bit more. It's because he reflects what he did wrong, he knows what he did wrong and how to improve it. If you really want to be a great player -- long term -- then I think you have to be quite intelligent."

Every question to her got an interesting answer. In a way, this was sport taken to different level. Asked if being intelligent (and being involved in so many things) somehow made losing easier, she saw both sides. "Usually when I lose, it's just as disappointing as for anybody else. But in the long term, I think it makes it much easier. In 2007, I tore my ACL here and was out for eight months. Everybody else would fall into depression. I was fine because I had tons of other stuff to do."

Petkovic's father is a tennis coach but didn't want her to play tennis. But she chose it because she gets something from it. When I asked her what, she replied: "I like the emotion in tennis." What she meant was that tennis was an outlet, every match allowed her to feel happiness, anger, disappointment. Real-life jobs rarely afford such opportunities.

Furthermore, she said: "You have to be very strong in the tennis world to survive and get further. Tennis was not my first choice. But I think in the academic world it would have been much easier for me -- maybe too easy -- so I really like the challenges, to prove myself in things that are not so easy for me. I will be stronger for everything else that comes in life than if I had just gone the normal academic way."

When she loses matches, Petkovic's response is unusual. "I usually go back to read. When I read I really have to focus because it's study, and it takes my mind off the loss. I cannot sleep very well, so I do it for long in the night. When you watch TV or go shopping, you think, 'Why did I play this way or that way?' I read, then maybe one or two days later I can think about the match and improve. Matches you lose are sometimes better for improvement."

As she answered, journalists just looked at her. A bit astonished. The philosophical warrior is not something we usually encounter. Where Petkovic will go in tennis we can't say, but tennis is better for her lively presence.

Germany's Andrea Petkovic, 22, charmed journalists with her intelligence.
-- ST PHOTO: AP

EVERYWHERE they go this year they will be a story. It is not a new story but a nice story. It is a story of two men who are both 29, wear the same Lotto outfits, bang jubilant fists in togetherness, sit sweaty in collective defeat like they did yesterday. Their names are Rohan Bopanna and Aisam Ul-Haq Qureshi. They are decent players, they are also Indian and Pakistani.

In tennis doubles, nationalities don't really matter. Of the 64 teams at the Australian Open, only 26 come from the same country, the rest are mixed and matched. A Swede and Australian, American and Slovak, French and Israeli. So why not these two?

But Bopanna and Qureshi are different. No one cares really if they fit well together, if they win, which is all a bit sad because that's their job, it's who they are. Tennis players. Trying to earn money and ranking points. An uncomplicated life.

But it is the symbolism of their union that attracts interest, that makes it complicated for them. Pakistan and India were once one nation, but are now riven with distrust for each other. So their pairing intrigues, for some it offends, for many it gives hope.

This line of interrogation is familiar to them, but they are nothing but polite and patient. Qureshi, years ago, was threatened with a ban by the Pakistani federation for playing with Israeli Amir Hadad, but refused to back down. He's heard these question for seven years, but says his answer stays the same: "Don't mix politics, culture, religion with sports".

On court they are thinking forehands, passing shots, volleys. That's it. "I never thought he's a Hindu or an Indian", says Qureshi. "When we started out we weren't thinking of politics", says Bopanna.

They are not out to make a statement, but by playing together they make a nice one. They stand before us as tennis-shoe-clad proof of what is possible. If people take it as a positive, says Qureshi, then that's just fine.

Both men have a lot in common. Qureshi speaks Urdu, Bopanna speaks Hindi, languages that are related. Tennis drew them together but also this familiarity of language, of food, of Bollywood films. Says Qureshi: "He's my best friend on the court and we also hang out together off it". Bopanna, the quieter one, nodded.

Tonight, defeated, they said they were headed for a Hindi movie. Two heroes out to see Three Idiots.

Rohit Brijnath is currently in Melbourne attending the Australian Open.

IN MELBOURNE, talking about the weather is not an act of politeness. It is a necessity. Normal doesn't happen here. Last year, the heat was offensive; this morning the rain is so thick it creates an opaque grey curtain. Players hate the rain. Everything has to be restructured. Practice, Eating. Rest. Everyone just wants to hit a competitive ball, to start the slam. Fortunately, the break is short.

Maria Sharapova doesn't care about the rain. She is Maria, she gets Rod Laver Arena, under the roof. Her dress is sharp, her shoes bright, her game dull. In 2008, she won here, then injured her shoulder and is trying to remember the taste of confidence.

I watch for a while, then leave. This is how the day goes, a sort of sauntering from court to court, carrying a notebook whose scribbles I can barely decipher. I need to research the world of Juan Martin Del Potro, for he and tennis' big boys are the subject of my Straits Times column for tomorrow.

I spot Patrick McEnroe, the better-dressed and better-behaved McEnroe at a distance. He is used to being stalked by writers, but is too polite to object. We talk briefly about Del Potro. In the press room, tennis' sage, Bud Collins, who has covered 149 grand slam tournaments, looks up to say Del Potro is his pick to win the tournament. Suddenly Rafa-Roger is not the only story in the game. They will not mind because the pressure will ease, but they will mind because great athletes naturally crave centre-stage.

Greg Baum, the Melbourne Age's erudite writer and I go to watch Ivo Karlovic, a slim tree of a man at 208cms. We discuss tall men and grin when Karlovic ends the second set with a 214 kmph ace. Later, I stop by to briefly watch Fernando Gonzales whose tennis is pure machismo. If he wasn't a racket-wielder, you sense Gonzales might have been a Chilean huaso, a sort of rough equivalent of the American cowboy. The rain returns, Gonzales saunters off. More waiting.

Sharapova, under the roof, is suffering. Her game is absent of edge and opponents can sense it. Yesterday, Lleyton Hewitt said of his countryman Peter Luczak, scheduled to play Rafael Nadal later tonight: "This is what you play for. ... centre court at the Australian Open, get a night match on the first night against one of the greatest players to play the game". Kirilenko has it one better. She has centre court, first match, and against an unsure champion.

In the third set, with Kirilenko up a break, ancient questions arise: can Kirilenko push Sharapova only to the brink, or over? Has Sharapova got even a residue of the old beast within her? The tension is superb, the struggle clear. This is now a contest purely of confidence.

Kirilenko serves for the match and is broken. There seems almost a predictability to it, but Sharapova is an altered player. She can't remember, she has forgotten how to string together dazzling shots in sufficient succession. She serves at 4-5 and is broken to lose the match 6-7 (4-7), 6-3, 4-6. Nike will be displeased. Her new dress got only one showing in Australia.

The great player's fall is news. The interview room is like a mini-coliseum, with journalists in a semi-circle looking down at the player. It is full. Camera flashes, an old friend of Sharapova's, go off like machine guns. She wears denial and a small smile.

No, she says, she didn't serve that badly, even though she had 11 double faults. Then again, she served 20 at last year's US Open. She will not show you her disappointment, her rage at this failure. She can't. It will be too revealing. It is why we should always thank Federer for his tears, for it was a look inside the athlete we rarely get.

Sharapova will get over today. All athletes do. Defeat is part of their diet. Swallow. Move on. Asked how she will explain today to herself, she said she will pass it off as a "bad day. You have to get on with life". And practice for better days.

Former champion Maria Sharapova crashed out of the Australian Open in the first round.
-- ST PHOTO: REUTERS

Federer's clothes didn't really bother me. When he once turned up in long trousers he looked like Big Bill Tilden and it was a respectful nod to an older time. Some of his recent stuff has been lame, but I shrugged and got distracted by his fine tennis. If the man wants to have a logo, big deal.

But the 15 on his jacket, which signified how many grand slam titles he had won, was plain indulgent.

People say Federer is a regular guy and he is. Do you see Tiger Woods spending a Christmas season playing cricket at a shelter for Indian kids hit by the tsunami? Fed did.

Can you imagine a football official saying of Ronaldo, as an ATP official once told me about Federer: "Normally we have to tell players what to do. Federer comes and asks us, what more do you want me to do".

He comes to a press conference and answers questions in English, French, German, when most players, using monosyllables, don't want to do even one language. He dated Mirka forever, married her, and really, it's kinda nice that she isn't one of those blue-eyed, blonde, swimsuit model-clones.

I say this because no one's getting after the Fed, it's just that he needs to relook his wardbrobe and what it says about him. A little vanity is fine, but he of all people should know, timing is everything.

On a day when Roddick's broken heart littered the court, on a day of sweat, the jacket with the 15 looked out of place, like a lacy shirt on a gladiator. It was that worst of things, it was showing off, and that's not Federer.

Federer was actually considerate to Roddick in a way. He didn't fall down and weep, he recognised this was not a day for that. He had just won, Roddick had only just lost. The truly great players do this. Rafael Nadal in Melbourne, for instance, was wonderfully gentle with a weeping Federer.

So at Wimbledon, when Federer went to his bag to pull out the 15 jacket, he should have said, ah, forget it. Not today. Sponsor be damned.

Roddick deserved better than having the jacket paraded before him, which basically said, dude, you were always going to lose. Federer deserved better than being seen as pretentious when he clearly isn't. In the locker room, he's admired and respected, but some eyebrows might have been raised.

Athletes sometimes lose their sense of place. LeBron James reportedly asking that footage of someone dunking over him should be confiscated proves that. It shows a shallowness, a fragile ego. He played beautifully all season, but by refusing to shake hands with the Orlando Magic players, and now this, his beauty is sullied.

Federer's sin is minor. But remembered. In the days when he won everything, Federer was respected; when he started losing, people started cheering for him; now that he's bravely fought his way back, people are impressed. That's the image he wants. Tough guy in a naturally stylish package. No jacket required.

On Monday, Wimbledon commences, no Brit has won there since Fred Perry in 1936 and a Scot named Andy Murray has just won the warm-up grass event at Queen's.

Mayhem is inevitable. Murray will snarl out of every tabloid front page, be discussed by TV pundits, figure on the 6pm news, get dissected in pubs.

Then, hopefully, he won't fail.

Murray annoys people. Not me. I like his rage and I want him to win. Really. It'll wake Djokovic up, make The Fed desperate to win his 15th at the US Open with Pete watching, and put Nadal the No.1 under some pressure. This is bad?

Furthermore, Murray will put Britain out of its misery. Certainly there's more chance of him winning Wimbledon, than any of their football teams doing you-know-what anytime this century.

No one should wait so long for satisfaction, though this 73-year wait for a local tennis hero is still young compared to the Red Sox's 86-year gap between World Series titles. But it's been an agonising wait.

Tim Henman, bless his stoic heart, travelled to four quarter-finals and four semi-finals at Wimbledon, and yet all England got in the end was a broken heart.

The British also deserve a champion because they are such terrific spectators. Not like the moody French fans (how can you not love Nadal?) and the noisy New Yorkers (apparently once a fellow played the saxophone in the stands there).

Wimbledon's crowd has an amusing predilection to go "ooh", but their appealing fairness shows a fine appreciation of the game. Hopefully, when Murray wins it will not be raining for their bellows of delight will blow the new and expensive roof off.

Murray should win because he's interesting, a somewhat rough-edged young man with a game of delightful smoothness. When he won at Queen's last weekend, many of the reports stated he did not smile for the photographers as if this was somehow important.

The Scot's mournful intensity makes him intriguing, he is less voluble on court than before but still capable of mutters and grimaces, snarls and shouts. Since he is not a bad sport, this is a good thing. Athletes cannot come out of a cloning factory, they must be driven by different demons and manage them in unique ways.

Pete Sampras was an emotional man but he locked his heart away for he needed calmness to play his best. McEnroe scowled and fidgeted and could move from silly tantrum to magical touch shot in a flicker of a second.

Federer's face shows little, yet on victory his dam collapses. Nadal plays with a rage like Connors, yet the halo-ed Spaniard punches the air while the American, on unfortunate days, grabbed his crotch.

Murray is colourful and creative, he wears a hangdog looks sometimes, and then follows it by chasing down a shot he does not look fast enough to reach. He is growing up in the light of the cameras and as Agassi will tesifty that is a testing business.

The Brit is third favourite for the title. Federer is the man because he has the confidence, Nadal comes next because he is No.1 and defending champion, but Murray has the most recent grasscourt form.

Nevertheless, while his athletic and tennis skills are undeniable, part of "talent" is producing them day after day at a grand slam event whatever the weather, court condition, injuries (Sampras once won Wimbledon when his shins were so painful he could barely practice).

Beating Roger and Rafa, which Murray has done, is nice, but doing it in a grand slam final is what counts.

At the Australian Open, Murray was the hottest player, yet couldn't best Fernando Verdasco but should have; in France, not yet sure on clay, he was overpowered too easily by Fernando Gonzales in four sets. He is teetering on the cusp of greatness and perhaps Wimbledon's supportive crowd will push him over.

It will be such a miraculous moment that even the statue of Fred Perry may put down its racket and join in the applause.