An artist as well as an athlete

Ali dragging himself back from the brink to see off George Foreman, Pele leaving defenders trailing in his wake as Brazil won the 1970 World Cup, Bob Beamon defying gravity to claim Olympic gold in the long jump. Sportsmen who made an indelible impression on all who saw them perform.

Such performers are few and far between, though, and that is why, on Monday, I will be setting my alarm clock for three in morning and arriving for work with bleary eyes.

In Melbourne's Rod Laver Arena, Roger Federer will begin his attempt to become the first man to claim all four grand slam titles in the same year since Laver himself achieved the feat in 1969. I, for one, will be watching him all the way.

By winning six grand slams and 27 other ATP titles, the 24-year-old Swiss has established himself as the greatest male tennis player in the world. But that is hardly the limit of his achievements.

By refusing to abandon his classical style in the face of the modern game's brute force, Federer has inspired all of us who believe tennis should be about more than the biggest serve and the most cutting-edge technology. For that, the sporting world stands eternally grateful.

For even the most ardent tennis lover, there is little to enthuse about in the men's game. The abundance of hard-court and clay-court tournaments has cultivated an army of identikit baseline sluggers willing to prioritise abrasion over aesthetics.

Yet Federer is different. Embracing a tradition that stretches back to Laver, Rosewall and Newcombe, the reigning Wimbledon champion is an artist as well as an athlete.

He has power of course - it would be impossible to even compete today without the kind of muscularity that would once have been considered a hindrance to mobility - but he is as likely to profit from a subtle variation of spin as a searing cross-court passing shot.

His lobs, backhands and appreciation of angles are superior to those of anyone else in the game and, despite a plethora of technological advances, that superiority remains enough to override any physical inferiority.

Federer does not just win, he wins with brilliance and beauty. Nobody wants to see a sport where brawn triumphs over brains but, without its leading protagonist, tennis would be coming dangerously close to that unedifying end game.

With him, it remains a sport where moments of genius can out-trump hours of honest toil.

For that reason alone, he can justifiably claim to be the foremost sportsman in the world today. It is certainly difficult to think of another, with the possible exception of Tiger Woods, who has come to symbolise everything that is good about their chosen pursuit and, at the same time, enjoyed relentless success.

For the next two weeks, the Australian Open will offer the latest opportunity for him to confirm his claim to greatness. Despite the time difference and limited coverage, it would be a shame to let it pass by unnoticed.

While Federer is able to elevate the men's game, women's tennis is in desperate need of a similarly stylish performer.

A decade or so ago, it was supposed to the last bastion of finesse while the men beat hell out of each other from the baseline.

Instead, the likes of Lindsay Davenport, Kim Clijsters, Amelie Mauresmo and Venus and Serena Williams have reduced women's tennis to its lowest common denominator - power.

Ground strokes have become harder and harder as bodies have become more and more bulky, resulting in a game that shares little with the tennis of the past.

So it is hardly the ideal time for Martina Hingis to be plotting her comeback. The 'Swiss Miss', who originally retired in 2002, was given a rude awakening in her second tournament when Justine Henin-Hardenne brushed her aside in the first round of the Sydney Open.

Hingis, who was a Wimbledon champion at 16, was the last woman to reach number one without a monster serve and some heavy baseline hitting.

Her return marks an attempt to turn back the tide. As King Canute so conclusively proved, that is not an easy thing to do.

Combining the women's game with the men's, Andrew Murray was criticised this week for claiming he and Kenneth Carlsen "played like women" in their meeting at the Heineken Open.

While his comment was hardly the cleverest he will ever make, taken in context it made a sensible comparison with Svetlana Kuznetsova's inability to hold serve in the Hopman Cup.

The resultant outcry has been as predictable as it has been pointless. Working in this job, you appreciate how rare it is for a sportsman to express what they really feel. From now on, Murray is unlikely to do so. It is to be hoped tennis writers remember that when they next brand Tim Henman "boring"