He may well be the much-hyped Wimbledon first-timer with everything to prove. And, as each round goes by, the sense may well be mounting that this could be the year he goes all the way. Yet Hawk-Eye was keen to play down the escalating clamour yesterday, insisting: “I’m taking each match as it comes.”

Talking exclusively to The Times in a cupboard behind Centre Court, the No 1-ranked computerised ball-tracking system was notably wary of getting ahead of himself. “I’m through to the second week,” he said, evenly. “If you’d offered me that at the start of the tournament, I probably would have snatched it. But I’m not taking anything for granted. It’s a grand-slam and anything can happen.”

Yet even he was unable to deny that he seemed to be finding form at the right time. “I’ve come here on the back of a good French Open,” he admitted. “But grass is a completely different surface and we don’t have a lot of time to get used to it. That said, I don’t think I could have done more to prepare properly and I’m pleased with my performance so far. I’ve adapted OK. I’m moving freely. I’m covering the court pretty well. And I’m staying focused for the big points, which is the key to it.

“Obviously, you always want to go one better and prove something to yourself. But, yeah, I’m pretty happy up to now.”

Observers were quick to spot Hawk-Eye’s promise some while ago, noting that he was blessed with a kind of “second sight” – an ability to see balls in flight that other players simply can’t and to react accordingly.

There was still a question mark, though, over his capacity to transfer that ability to grass. Yet, five days into Wimbledon, the broad feeling is that Hawk-Eye has yet to put a foot wrong. The rookie line-calling device has seemed vulnerable only once, when he was accused of creating a muddle at the end of his second-round match with Serena Williams on the Centre Court.

Hawk-Eye was unrepentant. “My feeling is, why doesn’t everyone query the last point of the match, if it goes against them and if they’ve got a challenge remaining? You’d be mad to waste the lifeline. It’s like the £64,000 question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? You’re not going to lose anything, so you might as well take it.”

Was there additional pressure, what with this being his first Wimbledon and given the levels of expectation generally? “For sure. You walk in on the first day and it just hits you. The courts, the ivy, Sue Barker – the place just drips history. Someone was telling me that some of these buildings date back as far as the 1980s. You can’t ignore heritage like that. It would be easy to be overawed. But I find it inspiring. I love it here.”

It has been quite a journey, all in all, for this frequently intense and brooding presence, who confesses that he has “never really found it easy to switch off” and whose humble beginnings included a spell in the military, helping out with the tracking on bombing raids. “It was a pretty tough schooling,” he said. “I guess, in some ways, the American air force during the Gulf War could be seen as the ultimate tennis dad. But I learnt lot about pressure and keeping it tight."

It can hardly have prepared him for stardom, though, or the situation he now faces, in which his every appearance is cheered manically by the fans on what the newspapers have inevitably started calling Hawk-Eye Hill.

"The support has been fantastic," he said. “I know some of it can seem irritatingly twee. And with some of the people in the face paint and the jesters’ hats, you do have to sort of fight back the urge, every now and again, to step in there and say, ‘What are you thinking of?’ But I draw a lot of energy from those people and I’m hugely grateful to them, despite everything.”

Had the roofless Centre Court made any impact on the atmosphere? “Well, obviously, I never played on it before. But from what everyone is saying, it’s lost a bit of the old hush. It’s only for a year, of course. Personally, though, I quite like the space and the light. It suits my game.”

With his simple colours and easy-to-read movements, Hawk-Eye has found himself welcomed as a refreshing burst of personality in a sport frequently alleged to be teeming with faceless automatons. But, again, he batted the suggestion back. “Sure, I like to think I’ve brought something to the game. I like to express myself out there and if I have an opinion, I’m probably not going to keep it to myself. But that’s not an act – it’s not showbusiness. It’s just the way I am as a computer.

“In any case, I don’t agree that today’s stars are boring. Look at Cyclops. Are you telling me that guy doesn’t have a personality? He’s completely crazy. You never know when he’s going to beep next. I don’t see anyone turning their backs when the Clopster is on song.”

A possible future doubles partnership – HawkEye and Cyclops? “On the same court? I don’t think that would be a very good idea. We’d crack each other up too much.” Fair point. In any case, for now there is far more serious business to hand – making it through to the final Sunday. “It would be a dream come true,” Hawk-Eye admitted. “But right now, I’m not even allowing myself to dream.”

Safin's prone to talking a load of bolognese

Refreshing though it was to hear a tennis player diss Wimbledon, rather than hymn it to the skies in the received manner, one fears that Marat Safin’s choice of target – specifically, the cost of the spaghetti in the players’ restaurant – suggests that he has badly misunderstood the nature of these hallowed championships.

True, £12.50 for a plate of a pasta does seem a touch steep. But if Wimbledon charged ordinary prices, it would soon come to seem ordinary – and who wants that?

That is why this column happily accepts the 25p mark-up on its afternoon Yorkie bar from the press canteen. It’s one of the factors that tells us we’re somewhere thrillingly special, rather than in any old corner shop.

Safin, of course, is better placed than most of us to absorb what we might call “prestige pricing”, having earned something in the region of £7 million in prize-money alone. However, if he really is having trouble picking up the tab for a Wimbledon lunch, this column hereby solemnly volunteers to meet him at the gates, on each day of the 2008 championships, with a packet of sandwiches.

He can have cheese and tomato or ham, or whatever happens to be in the fridge at the time, assembled that morning on fresh, or relatively fresh, thick-cut, Hovis “Best of Both” and hand-wrapped in silver foil. And we won’t charge a penny.

— It may be tough for Marat Safin in the Wimbledon canteen, but how bad a time can he really be having? The last time I saw him, he was heading away from No 18 Court pursued by a Japanese fan, and not merely pausing for a photograph, but taking her camera, holding her close and snapping the picture of them himself, at arm’s length. He didn’t look particularly unhappy. Or particularly hungry.