Hewitt graduates with adversity degree

World No 1 has the single-minded intensity of a Connors and McEnroe says he is the fastest player he has ever seen

It would seem that a 21-year-old's world could not be more complete. US Open champion, world No 1, Wimbledon champion in all but gold etching on the champions' board. "Unbelievable," says Lleyton Hewitt. "I don't know what to say."

Just one dark cloud shrouds the skies above the young Australian. His beloved Adelaide Crows are struggling in the Australian Football League and, even worse, Port Adelaide, their arch rivals, are top of their league, which makes conversation with his travelling schoolmate, Hayden Eckermann, and Roger Rashid, coach, television journalist and fellow Adelaidian, rather more spicy than he would like. "Footie", Australian Rules, the sport of his father, remains Hewitt's great sporting love outside the confines of the tennis court. The Hewitt family live barely a punt away from Football Park in the suburbs of Adelaide and there are plans afoot, forgive the pun, to parade the new Wimbledon champion in front of the crowd at the Crows' next home game. Only the little matter of his first Wimbledon final against David Nalbandian this afternoon stands between Hewitt and an unconditional acceptance of his status as the best player in the world.

Acceptance? In his homeland, Hewitt has struggled to win hearts. Aussies like a winner, but brashness is heavily punished. Early jousts with his public induced the sense that little Lleyton needed to be pulled down a peg or two. Tall-poppy syndrome, the Australians call it, though his presence on court is still more of overgrown schoolboy than fully matured male. "Lleyton has never minded who he upset," says Rashid, who was once summoned by the veteran Adelaide-based coach Peter Smith to watch a fresh-faced 13-year-old and has been watching ever since. "As a young kid, when he was facing a guy several years older who thought it might be smart to give a bit of mouth, Lleyton would give it back. His mentality has always been: 'I'll get you'. That's what happened against Henman. 'This is feeding me, please give me more'."

Hewitt's outbursts, though, have been spectacularly immature, the flip side of a tendency to open his mouth before engaging the brain. In the second round of the US Open, against the black American James Blake and in front of a black line judge, Hewitt's frustration launched him into dangerous waters. "Look at him," he bellowed at the umpire, pointing at Blake and then the offending official. "Now look at him. What do you see?"

Blake, a gentle giant of a man, let Hewitt off an extremely sharp hook later, but the black American press were less forgiving. What happened next, though, revealed the core of a competitor. Having survived a brutal five-setter against Andy Roddick, the all-American favourite, Hewitt destroyed Yevgeny Kafelnikov and Pete Sampras to take the title. As a demonstration of pure single-minded two-fingered intensity, this was pure Connors.

So, rewind to the tie-break against Sjeng Schalken on Thursday afternoon, Court One. For the first time, Hewitt is beginning to look vulnerable against the raking grounstrokes of the languid Dutchman. He has already forfeited four match points when an overrule on a baseline call gives Schalken a significant advantage. Hewitt's instant reaction is explosive, but somewhere between the baseline and the umpire's chair, he recovers his senses. The conversation with the umpire betrays his frustration, but never descends into abuse. But, for the next two sets, the Australian is a shadow of a No 1 as if his self-imposed tranquility has spilled over into his tennis.

Those close to Hewitt – and they are an exclusive crew – point to a new maturity which has accompanied his swift rise to Grand Slam champion and youngest world No 1. But the larrikin in Hewitt is not far below the surface. Connors never fully matured and nor will Hewitt, but anyone who witnessed his dissection of Tim Henman on Centre Court on Friday will never again question his claim to be the natural successor to the mantle previously worn by Connors and Andre Agassi.

"Andre is more of a punisher on the baseline," says Brad Gilbert, Agassi's former coach. "Lleyton's not like that. What you do know is that Lleyton is going to bring the kitchen sink with him on to court." Gilbert's favourite Hewitt point comes from the closing moments of the Schalken match. The Dutchman double- guesses a backhand volley, Hewitt has anticipated the move and waits to return, but when Schalken sweeps another volley across court, Hewitt has scuttled across court and is ready to make the pass. "There were Lleyton's two greatest assets, right there," added Gilbert. "His heart and his feet." John McEnroe, who spent a lifetime combating Bjorn Borg's speed, thinks Hewitt is the quickest player he has ever seen.

But it is the attitude which makes the man. Hewitt thrives on adversity. Davis Cup victories over Alex Corretja in Barcelona and Gustavo Kuerten in the Brazilian's home town of Florianopolis are the prime reference points on his motivational compass. At the time, Kuerten was the No 1 player in the world. Hewitt won in three sets on clay.

"That was a real turning point," says Rashid. "He was heavier off the forehand side, he was hitting clear forehand winners that day. But he is also smart on court, he has good court management and a good rapport system. On court, he'll be able to tell you exactly where his friends are, not just in the players' box, but maybe where Wally Masur and John Fitzgerald are, maybe where I am and he uses them to hone in on. You could unfurl big banners for Tim Henman and he wouldn't notice. He couldn't tell you what was going on."

Hewitt's gestures, punching the air, pointing towards his supporters, are essential to his wellbeing on court, but they have not endeared the Australian to his peers. Corretja, who objects to Hewitt's frequent self-chastisement, has refused to speak to him since the Davis Cup final. But isolation is the companion of the champion, and it is a state Hewitt can live with as long as he can rely on the mateship of Hayden Eckermann, now a permanent member of Hewitt's entourage.

A switch of coach, from Darren Cahill to Jason Stoltenberg, was messily handled last year, heightening the antagonism of the local press, who were dismissed from the gates of Hewitt's family home, where he still lives upstairs in a converted flat. But no one could question Hewitt's fluency in the interview room or the court this past two weeks. Rashid believes his best tennis is still a couple of years away, a prospect to disturb the dreams of Tim Henman and David Nalbandian.