Forgotten Scud now a reloaded missile

Danger man Mark Philippoussis

For two weeks during the summer of 1987, all Australian eyes were turned towards England. A young tennis player called Pat Cash had caught the imagination, ploughing his way through the field at Wimbledon, and every Australian was gripped. Well, almost. One 10-year-old boy was distraught. Mark Philippoussis was obsessed with Boris Becker, the defending champion who had been knocked out in the second round. "I loved diving," he recalls. "I used to watch Boris and then try to copy him. That's all I cared about."

Philippoussis's allegiances were all the more controversial because Cash was a fellow Melbournian. But, then, controversy could easily be Philippoussis's middle name. Rarely has the big right- hander done anything by the book. He was a formidable junior champion, winning both Wimbledon and the Australian Open. He turned professional at just 17 and, by 1998, his career seemed to be progressing well, as he reached the last eight at Wimbledon and fell at the last at the US Open.

But, then, in the 1999 Wimbledon quarter-finals, came the moment which shattered his dream and his body. Leading the defending champion, Pete Sampras, by a set, and a break up in the second, Philippoussis's left knee caved in. "I look back at that day and remember how well I was feeling, how well I was hitting the ball, and how happy I was on the court," he says. "But I'm not going to look back and wonder 'what if' any more. That match is behind me now, and I'm sure the injury happened for a reason, so I've just got to accept things. I have to focus on the future."

The injury played on Philippoussis's mind, as he let his professional and personal lives veer off course. Single, good-looking, and with time and money to spare in Miami, his rock-and-roll lifestyle was never going to lead to Grand Slam trophies. Stories of his love for parties and speed [the engine type] are legendary. "I know it's not necessarily a good thing, but I don't have any fear for things off the court," he says. "I've always enjoyed the adrenalin-junky activities. It's just me."

The snowboarding, sky-diving, and car racing all had to come to an end, though, when his knee broke down again in 2000. "I would have had to stop sooner or later anyway," he says, "but I'm pleased I turned my life around when I did."

It was while recuperating from last year's third operation, when he was bed-ridden for over a week and then had to spend more than two months in a wheelchair, that Philippoussis finally decided to settle down. He left Miami and moved an hour north, where he bought a five-acre ranch. He replaced his collection of expensive sportscars with real horse power, and built a couple of tennis courts.

"I did a lot of thinking when I couldn't walk," the 25-year-old says, "and I just felt I should give myself the chance to fulfil my ability on the court. The saying is that you don't realise what you've got until you've lost it. Well, that's how it was for me. When a world-renowned American surgeon tells you that you might never play competitive tennis again, it gives you a shock. That's why I'm so pleased to be on court again."

Even now, only a twice-yearly injection of synthetic cartilage keeps the knee functioning. "It's tough," he says, "but nothing compared to the dark days when I couldn't see a way out. I've done silly things, but I've matured now and I firmly believe that the injuries have been a blessing in disguise. Without them, I don't know whether I'd be back. It sounds funny, but I think my knee injury is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

With his life back on track, Philippoussis can now concentrate on what he has always done best: hitting tennis balls. And, judging by his good showing at Queen's, where he eliminated Greg Rusedski and lost to Wayne Ferreira without dropping his serve, the man they call the Scud can justifiably make Wimbledon his next target.

"I'm only going to say it once because there is no point in putting pressure on myself all the time, but I just know I can win it. And I know that, after everything that I've been through, it would be the most amazing moment of my life.

"I'm here to win. I'm not going to say that if I get into the second week, or get into the quarters, then that will do. There is no reason why I can't win Wimbledon, but now I've got to go out there and prove it. To myself more than anyone. I know that if I fight hard, both mentally and physically, on every point, then there is no one out there who can stop me on grass."

Should Philippoussis accomplish his dream, he would become the first player in the modern era to win Wimbledon without a racket sponsor. Having been dropped by his long-term backers, Dunlop, a few weeks ago, the Australian has decided to go back to the old Head racket he used as a junior. "Problem is," he smiles, "they stopped making these rackets years ago, so I'm having to hunt around for any that are left around the world. The other day, I found 13 at the Queen's Club shop and bought the lot. I think I've only got 20-odd now, so I've got to take good care of them."

Like most players, Philippoussis loves Wimbledon. "The prestige and the atmosphere make it the most special place in tennis," he says. "I love committing myself to the serve-and-volley, and lunging for everything at the net. My first, and best, memory from Wimbledon was Boris winning in 1985.

"I stayed up late to watch him and then went out on court with my dad just to practise my diving. I would put a mat down to cushion the falls, and then get my dad to feed balls just far enough from me that I had to dive to reach them. It was an artificial carpet surface, so it really hurt when I hit the ground. Somehow, though, I thought that was the whole point. Come to think of it, I still do."