Beyond the wildest dreams of Team Goran

The fax machine in Goran Ivanisevic's modest two-bedroomed apartment in Wimbledon Parkside spluttered into life just moments after the tempestuous finale on Centre Court. "You've done it," the message read. "You deserve to be the Wimbledon champion." Many more followed, from Alex Corretja, the Spaniard, from Mats Wilander and Balazs Taroczy, the former Hungarian Davis Cup player. But the signature at the bottom of this memo meant more to Ivanisevic than most because it belonged to Andre Agassi, whose victory in the 1992 final had pitched the Croat's career into the violent spasm from which it had only just been rescued.

As the new Wimbledon champion flew off in Bernie Ecclestone's private jet to receive his hero's welcome in his home town of Split, others were left to reflect on the incredible ride of the wild-card champion. Every match, they were there in the players' box, same faces, same formation. Mario Tudor, an old friend and hitting partner delighted to be upgraded to the role of "coach" by the pundits; another friend, known simply as Igor Igor because no one really knows his surname; Andy Fyfe, "my English manager", as Goran describes him; Gerard Tsobanian, the French-Armenian agent who has worked with Goran since 1992; Nikki Pilic, a former coach and German Davis Cup captain; and Srdjan, Goran's father, who was banned from watching his son for two years by his doctor after a heart operation. He is allowed to watch now, provided he stays calm.

More revealing of Ivanisevic's low-key attitude to his 14th – and, most believed, final – Wimbledon was the absence of followers. Tatiana, his girlfriend, stayed at home with Goran's mother. Three friends jetted in from Los Angeles in the second week, but while in former years a four-bedroomed house, traditionally Ivanisevic's HQ, had become the drop-in centre for London's Croat population, this time the little flat seemed worthy of the ambitions. Deep down, Ivanisevic must have known he would not be in residence for long.

So the routine of the fortnight slowly took root. Ivanisevic likes to practise right up to the moment of his matches, partly to ease his shoulder into action, partly to occupy the time. Always the same courts at Aorangi Park; number four for the first 10 days, then number three.

On the final Monday morning, Peter Finn, co-ordinator of the practice courts, opened up just to satisfy the Croat's notoriously superstitious nature. And every evening, Ivanisevic would go to Srdjan's house to eat and play cards and talk of home. "We wanted just to keep it simple," says Fyfe. "There was no great influx of people, even for the semi-final and the final. I think that helped Goran to relax."

It was early in the first week that Ivanisevic had begun to talk of the different Gorans, the good, the bad and the 911 guy. Fyfe remembers being asked whether Goran would do an interview with Garry Richardson for the BBC. "They wanted to film him from different sides, the good side, the bad side, that sort of thing. Goran said, 'Yeah, I like that idea', and I thought 'Blimey' because I didn't think he would do it. But he was enjoying himself and there was no real pressure on him."

No one needs to tell Bob Brett, who coached Ivanisevic to two Wimbledon finals, about the good and bad sides of Goran. He has talked to each one, picked up more broken pieces than a glazier. "After a month as his coach, people were asking when I was going to quit," he laughs. "But I lasted four and a half years longer than they thought." Brett was in Schipol airport, Amsterdam, when the phone rang last Sunday. For the first time in 22 years, he had not come to Wimbledon. "I'd spoken to Goran several times during the week," he recalls. "We still have a good friendship. I can always say what I think, though whether he listens is another matter. When he called he had just beaten Tim and he was pretty excited. I asked him if he had a ticket for me and he was a bit surprised. He thought I wouldn't want to come."

So why had he? "Because we had a great relationship and I wanted to see him win it. Even if he'd have lost, it would have been OK. But I wanted to be there." And, usually the most reserved of men, he had shed a tear or two with the rest of us. "I saw Goran afterwards and the guy from the All England Club came up and presented him with his member's tie as the champion. I don't think right then Goran quite knew what he'd done. He was a little mellow, a little subdued. He was just looking back at all the trials and tribulations and thinking: 'Now I don't have to suffer any more'."

Nor, in his way, does Brett. Nor Andy Fyfe nor Igor Igor nor any of the regulars who, on 24 June, 2002, at 1pm, will take their seats in the players' box to watch the champion begin the defence of his Wimbledon title.