Safin succumbs to the passion of Ivanisevic

Goran Ivanisevic's tumultuous march into the Wimbledon semi-finals, which yesterday reached a new level of blazing confidence on the Centre Court with the four-set defeat of the reigning US Open champion Marat Safin, already ranks as a strange and wondrous journey. It has taken him into some bizarre corners of the mind, his and ours, and there have been almost as many psychological twists as there have been thunderously delivered aces.

But there had to be a point where the psycho-babble, wonderfully uproarious and self-mocking though it has been, gave way to a flash of insight into the deeper emotions of a passionate man who has so dramatically found the best of himself these last few days.

It came soon after the beaten Safin, a 21-year-old Russian who John McEnroe, no less, believes can emerge as a successor to Pete Sampras, had announced: "Today I had no chance. Goran was too good. I couldn't do anything special to beat him."

Ivanisevic, who again tore off his shirt and threw it into the crowd at the climax of his 7-6, 7-5, 3-6, 7-6 victory, said: "I have never been happier in my life. When they open this Wimbledon gate for me on the first Monday, something was shining, you know, something happened – and I can't explain it."

He then proceeded to do precisely that, and with only fleeting references to the Inner Goran, the Outer Goran and the Third Guy, otherwise known as the 911 Emergency call Goran. Ivanisevic talked about the first thrust of his ambition, to win the tournaments and the money that would get the best cancer treatment for his sister, and when that crisis was resolved, there was the trouble of war at home in Croatia, the sense that if he didn't carry a rifle he did at least carry a piece of sporting equipment with which he could help put his newly independent nation on the map.

"When I start in my career," he recalled, "my sister is very sick. I played for her because we didn't money. So better I do, she can go to doctors and heal herself. Now everything is fine and she's great. Then the war came. Then I have motivation to play for my country, for the people who are fighting for my country. Then that was over also. Then I just find myself asking: 'What to do now?' I was looking for somebody to play for, but I couldn't. Then I say: 'Man, after 12 years on the tour, I think you deserve to play for yourself a little bit, you know, for all this hard work that you did.' So now it is paying off."

To what extent we will know soon enough, in Friday's semi-final against Tim Henman, and, maybe, in Sunday's final against either Andre Agassi or Pat Rafter. But that, as Ivanisevic says, would be another phase of the dream. What has happened so far, his achievement of becoming the first wild card to make it to the semi-finals, when the rest of the tennis world saw him as part of the game's past, a wild, eccentric shooting star, burned out and down to 120th in the rankings, is something that he can keep forever.

Certainly the gifted Safin, who briefly fought his way into the quarter-final by winning the third set before being re-engulfed by the ferocious tide of 30 aces, believes that the current Ivanisevic can finally win this tournament which three times has denied him in the final, once against Agassi nine years ago, and twice against Sampras.

"If he plays like he played today, I think he will not have any problems. Guys, he beat Rusedski, he beat me. Also, I know how to play tennis you know. This guy just doesn't give any chances. If he has a second serve, he can make an ace. All the time you are under pressure. When the tie-break arrives, if you make three points you are lucky," he said.

Safin could only make two at the end of the first set, and went just one better as he attempted to survive at the end of the fourth.

He was battered by the force of Ivanisevic's service – and his will. Earlier, when Safin did what he had earlier come to believe was impossible and broke the Croat's serve in the sixth game of the third set, there seemed to be a chance that all the momentum that had been building so relentlessly, might at last be in danger. The idea grew with Safin's claiming of the set, and developed further when Ivanisevic's first serve began to stray into the net more regularly than at any previous point in the tournament. Ivanisevic's easy touch on the baseline – a facility which had surprised the Russian – also began to desert him as the fourth set wore on. Another hint of crisis: Ivanisevic drew a code violation for referring to the cyclops machine with the F-word.

But such worries were fatuous, said Ivanisevic. "I was a little tired then, it is true, but inside I am very quiet now. Very focussed, not losing my mind. Really I can't describe it. It's really peace inside me. Even when I lose that set today, I said: 'No worries, just stay calm. Nothing is bothering me'. I got a warning because of a stupid thing. I said this F-word but it is okay. I know what I am doing." You really needed to ask if this was the end of the road for the 911 Guy, the trouble shooter who came onto court when the Inner and the Outer Gorans were unravelling. "He is there, 911," said Ivanisevic, with an expression of great tranquillity. "He comes to watch you know. Buys the tickets. Nobody can kick him out. If he has to come, he comes. Hopefully he doesn't have to."

Friday's semi-final against Henman, the repository of most of Wimbledon's dreams, is the next test of Ivanisevic's remarkable invasion of the affections of this tournament. He knows that the weight of his support will drop dramatically, because Henman, who he hasn't beaten in four meetings, is a "really-Brit". "I haven't beaten Henman," said Ivanisevic. "The way I feel now I don't worry about it. I don't feel I need any help now. I feel I can do it all myself." It is a brave thought from a man who has just put the 911 Guy out to pasture.