On superficial observation, Andy Roddick can excite anti-American prejudice. He dresses as a skateboarder; he pumps his fist in irritating self-inflation; he exudes his country’s certainty; and he enjoys the power that comes from the barrel of the biggest weapon in the game. And like America, around the globe he’s No 1.

But it pays to talk to somebody to find out what they’re about, and it doesn’t take more than a few minutes of quiet conversation with Roddick to prove, once again, that stereotypes and their attendant assumptions are usually worse than worthless. Roddick’s tennis may be wham-bam ugly and destructively effective, but his off-court character is honest, straightforward, generous, highly intelligent and, well, gracious. Whatever you think about George W Bush and Ronald McDonald, Roddick is the good guy.

HE IS No 1. But is that merely a statistic or the truth? Is he the best? “I’m not going to sit here and say I’m the best player in the world,” Roddick says. “To be honest, I feel rather fortunate to be No 1. And I’m just so thankful for what I was able to accomplish last year. For the rest of my life I will be able to say that I’ve won the US Open and I’ve been No 1 in the world. That’s pretty cool. It’s still surreal for me. It just doesn’t sound right, the two together with my name next to them. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.”

Such status brings many privileges, including the offer of the sumptuous office of the tournament director at the Qatar Open for the interview.

It is early in the week and Roddick is playing his first event of the season, en route to Australia and the opening Grand Slam event of the new campaign. Fresh from the practice court, he attentively sits forward in a large leather armchair, speaking quickly, almost nervously, to keep up with his tumbling thoughts.

It is not so much the main man in tennis granting an audience; rather, a clever, serious young person who has submitted to an interview and is anxious to make the right impression.

Roddick recounts the day of his signal achievement, defeating Juan Carlos Ferrero in straight sets last September to win the US Open, signing off with four unstoppable serves. “I was surprisingly calm that morning, especially since it was such a huge occasion and something I’d been dreaming about for most of my life,” he says.

“Brad (Gilbert), my coach, and I treated it as a normal day. I woke up, did the breakfast thing, went to the courts, hit balls, played baseball a bit with my racket after practice and felt pretty relaxed. The closer it came to the time to play, the more jittery I became, but once I got out there into the stadium, I had a feeling I hadn’t had for a long time. It was almost like I was in a different state of mind. I was so calm. I didn ’t even pump my fist once until the second-set tie-breaker, and I’d been on court for an hour and 15 minutes at that point.

“I was in a weird state, just playing the next point, then the next point, so focused on the task in hand that my mind didn’t wander at all. I wasn’t trying to do it; it just clicked in. When it came to the third set, I didn’t let up, I just worked on getting the break of serve.

“It was only when it came to the last game that I started thinking about the occasion. I was up 5-3 and serving. My serve had only been broken once in two days, over eight sets, and against good returners. So I knew it was in my hands. After what happened (the victory), people said I wasn’t nervous. Actually, I was crapping my pants.

“But it’s all about being able to handle it and not letting it consume you. I just tried to play that final game as fast as I could, so my thoughts didn’t get the better of me. I literally stepped out, hit one serve and was ready to go again. Then I hit another as soon as I could. And another. Four straight aces, and I had won. As far as dreams go, that, the US Open, was the biggest dream I could ever have.”

At the winner’s press conference, Roddick grabbed the microphone and opened proceedings. “No more ‘What’s it feel like to be the future of American tennis?’ crap. No more,” he said.

It was spoken mostly in jest, as the question that Roddick had fielded at almost every press conference since turning professional 3Å years previously had become a running joke. But his impromptu declaration also betrayed relief. His burden of expectation had been heavy indeed. With Pete Sampras in retirement and Andre Agassi almost at the end of his career, American tennis needed a champion successor.