FOR HORDES of tennis afficionados the final days of Wimbledon passed in a trance. To the Roger Federer fan-club the semis, and indeed the final, were academic - the legend was not there; the greatest court presence in the history of what has, in latter decades become a popular game, had been slain. One the greatest entertainers (vouched by his peers in the Laureus community; the hierarchy of global sport opinion) sport has ever seen, had been hauled back among the mortals, due in part, we are given to believe by a poorly-functioning body.

Not even Woods, in his pre-tabloid days, could match the deeds of the Swiss who was arguably the most prominent rolemodel for a youth pressured by a range of doubtful signals from other codes.

He challenges Ali for the tag of The Greatest; the marvellous American gaining image partly from his theatrics, but which matched his shimmering feet and dazzling hands.

The Federer phalanx (me unashamedly included) bit nails as the king was deposed by a super hard-hitting Check; this time no miraculous recovery. His nine lives? Hopefully not but like any at the summit, legs eventually succumb to the toil and who can blame the will which garnered 16 Slams for tiring of the repetition in so athletic a sport where heirs spring from unusual corners and unlikely nations.

While not an obituary, we probably have seen the end of the invincible who by his own standards had a poor 2010 and now faces a young breed which cares little for the image of their predecessors.

Federer bought back the former sophisticated era but also injected a new intensity to competition and wider technical delight; gave lessons in mental toughness; in measuring opponents and moreso self management in adversity. He continued the popularity of the game brought into the show-biz zone by Nastase, McEnroe and Connors when it was the tea-lawn pastime of the British. They brought it to gladiatorial levels; Federer returned it to both demands.

He might never win a Slam again; there are too many new bucks invading the block. Rafa is currently king but his tenure will not be as long; his physical game won't last and the power-games of the new boys will see to a more even distribution of the silver in the future - remember only Sampras and Federer dominated the men's game to a degree we are not likely to witness again; and Pete never won the Grand Slam. It is unlikely anyone ever will again.

While on tennis, it must have been a media bonanza to see the Chinese coming through; no, not for their expertise or anything like that, but the ease of names. For decades a flood of unpronounceable names have flowed from eastern European counties-an all sports - which must have sent computer spellchecks into a tizzy.

We have on the women's side Kyelbanova. Pvlyuchoukoka, Rybarikova, Zahlovova-Strycova, Kudryavtseva and Lapushchenkova. The men are not quite so difficult with Kohlschriber, Dolgopolov, and down in 94th spot (he won't cause any problems) Pole Przysiezny. What simplicity typing those like Li, Lu, Peng and the more complicated from that region, Massu.

It reminds me of the ease at which RTE's Jimmy Magee handled the tongue-twisting names when commentating on Greek club Panathinakos in a European competition many moons ago, but sure we didn't know if he was chancing his arm either, but he sure sounded good.

Forgive me for closing by shafting the BEEBs Yankie imports (Pam Shriver and Lindsey Davenport) for their very 'patriotic' naming of Serena Williams as Serena yet referring to her semi-final opponent Petra Kvitove consistently by her surname. What do the 'others' have to do to get 'in'?

- PAUL DONAGHY