Henman weighed down by ambition

It took the victor to spell out a few home truths to the British public. "He gets an awful lot of pressure," said Lleyton Hewitt of Tim Henman. "But I think he blocks it out fantastic. He's had an incredible run here, in anyone's book. What is it? Four semis, a quarter-final, in the last six years? That's a great effort. Whether he can hold up the trophy, that's another question."

Easy for a potential 21-year-old Wimbledon champion to say, but Hewitt has an endearing habit of telling it as it is and what he said lent a crushing, yet ultimately noble, perspective to the British No 1's hopes of achieving his final triumph on Centre Court. At times during his semi-final defeat, Henman's shoulders sagged visibly. He looked tired, tired of carrying so much baggage, tired of the "Come on, Tims" and the incessant shrieking of Henman Hill, tired of the criticism, tired, in the end, of his own ambition. And who could blame him? Certainly not Lleyton Hewitt. Most overseas players at Wimbledon spend their fortnight thanking the Lord they were not born British.

The coverage of Henman's Wimbledon has taken a savage and unjust turn this year. The headlines have been more demanding, the criticism more personal and the disappointment correspondingly more severe. In addition to the usual patriotic guff, Henman has had to absorb the after- effects of England's failure at the World Cup. The gallant British boy doing his best against the odds has turned into a no-hoper, a choker, a sham, an impostor, utterly unworthy of the expectation and adulation thrust upon him each Wimbledon fortnight.

Henman has just reached No 5 in the world, his highest ranking, yet hearing the pundits emerge from the Centre Court after his three-set defeat by Hewitt, it seemed a wonder that he knew which end of the racket to hold. He could neither serve nor volley, his backhand was pat-a-cake, his forehand worse and his mind was as flimsy as a mouldy strawberry.

Henman has not played well this tournament. His game has been riddled with tactical and technical confusion, which has only made his tortured progress to the semi-final all the more impressive. Only briefly, in the first and last sets against Hewitt, did Henman approach anything like the all-round assurance of previous years. The changes to Henman's game by his coach Larry Stefanki have been assessed and damned by those who forget that the tennis season is not simply crammed into two weeks in south London. Henman could break into the top three in the world by the end of the year, which challenges the idea that his time has come and gone.

Obvious conclusions will now be drawn about his ability to win Wimbledon. A new generation of grass-court players, led by Hewitt, has emerged and all will be better next year, when Henman will be two months short of his 29th birthday. Today's final will be contested by two players under 22. Yet Goran Ivanisevic showed what can be done when the muse falls upon you and ambition has been discarded long ago on some forgotten court.

Henman deserves no criticism for his Wimbledon. Just the reverse. His final set against Hewitt when, deep down, both players knew the balance of power, was positively epic. Pitched against a force of nature, Henman's game had been blown to the wind. "He didn't know what to do," as Hewitt said.

Yet some primeval instinct, traceable back to the cavalry officers at the Charge of the Light Brigade, kept him coming forward, fashioning, for one fraction of a second through the gunsmoke, the outline of a recovery. Serving at 5-4 to take the match, Hewitt faltered, not through any failing of his own nerve, but in sheer disbelief at his opponent's courage. Reality struck one game later when Henman, hope submerged by a rising tide of irritation, lost his serve for the sixth time in the match.

Henman's defiance in the interview room sounded worn and frail. But his conclusions were utterly sound. He had done his best and no one could ask for more. Whether that knowledge will satisfy his own lust for fulfilment is a matter only for Henman. His approach should change next year; his expectations need to become more worldly, less insistent.

The irony of Henman's position is that his best chance will come at exactly the moment his own and our ambitions fade. The trouble is that he has no control over his nation's desperate hopes and therefore no control over the extent of the despair.

For the first time, Henman's exit through the gates of the All England Club was accompanied by a sense of betrayal. Tiger Tim had let us down again. Nothing could be further from the truth. Henman simply lost to a better player. Sometimes that happens in sport.