The born showman

Murray's 6-4, 6-4, 6-4 dismantling of a talented, streetwise tour pro in his prime was among the most staggering breakthrough performances I've seen from any British debutant at a major sporting championship. Up there with Wayne Rooney's Euro 2004 domination, Justin Rose's fourth-place finish at his debut Open at Birkdale in 1998 and Amir Khan's precocious outings in the Athens Olympics boxing ring.

It was hard to believe, after his wildly theatrical performances at Queen's offered question marks over temperament rather than talent, that someone so green could play such a nerveless, perfectly executed game while imposing such intense pressure on himself.

Last night Murray was still going on about what a temper he has, yet so far his emotions on court have seemed so well harnessed that, forget the fist-pumping routine, he has appeared for both of his games to be in total control of himself.

Boris Becker, who would know a bouncy, shouty teenage phenomenon when he saw one, watched Murray's bullet service returns, scudding sliced approaches and patient accuracy in the long rallies and reckoned he would put money on him winning Wimbledon within five years. That's how good it was.

Yet how good can he be? Now the genie's out the lamp, there's no more protection for Murray in this fortnight. The setbacks for Rooney, Rose and Khan remind us how nothing can be taken for granted. So the trouble is more miracles will now be demanded when on Saturday he tackles David Nalbandian, Argentina's 2002 runner-up.

Yet Murray doesn't mind unreasonable demands. He's got this wonderful lugubrious way, like a sort of hangdog version of John Gordon Sinclair in Gregory's Girl, of mumbling: "I'll lose my next match. Nalbandian's top 20 and been to a Wimbledon final. I'm only 18, just won two matches, got no experience in these matches..."

When it was pointed out to him that this is what he said before the Stepanek game, he just insisted it was down to the Czech playing so poorly.

This is a useful self-protection mechanism amid the fuss because, as he says: "I'm only going to be the real deal when I get in the top 10 in the world."

He started the week at 312 on the computer, reckons he's down to about 210 and has already worked out that two more wins here would put him in the top 100.

With this lad, you could imagine it being a hoot of an ascent. He is, in short, very sparky and very different, a showman with his audacious shotmaking array on court and highly entertaining in a morose Kevin the Teenager sort of way off the lawns, especially when discussing the dubious benefits of eve-of-match chicken curries and mum making a fool of herself.

When, afterwards, he said Stepanek had made himself look "stupid" by fondling the net cord after it earned him a crucial point, he didn't reflect that when he copied him after getting a bit of luck himself with victory in sight, he was being just as arrogant.

"I don't like him," Murray said sniffily of his opponent afterwards, making everyone roar with laughter at his bluntness. Yet if he comes out with that sort of stuff too often, you can guess locker-room contemporaries won't laugh about his own cocky, outspoken attitude too much either.

Just a hunch, but might Murray end up proving a rare old unpredictable handful? And if he did, would it be so bad?

For maybe this boy does have a bit of the devil in him which Henman never did.

You had to be pretty stony-hearted not to appreciate the nice guy's lament last night: "I'll keep trying. I love what I do, I'm still pretty good at it," said Henman.

He is too, but British tennis has to believe now that the lad getting his teenage kicks is going to be even better.