When jolted out of a romantic dream we are rarely consoled by a reality as enticing as Wimbledon offers today. It’s natural to have a little patriotic mourning over the demise of Andy Murray’s challenge in the men’s singles championship but the final this afternoon will, as usual, involve Roger Federer, and only the dementedly insular would dare to mention Federer and anticlimax in the same breath. Now we’ve accepted that British tennis history won’t be made, we should appreciate the privilege of watching a man who specialises in creating the global kind.

We should honour, too, the presence on the other side of the net of Andy Roddick, whose unambiguously deserved defeat of Murray (a 5-2 on favourite in the match) on Friday was based on such disciplined and precise exploitation of the brutal power of his serve that some professional judges, not least his semi-final victim, feel a similar level of control will give the American a serious chance of overcoming the Centre Court’s resident genius. The bookmakers’ view strikes me as more persuasive. Nowhere is the outsider quoted at shorter than 9-2, which seems logical in the light of a head-to-head record showing that their 20 meetings have produced 18 wins for Federer. Those figures could hardly tell a rawer tale of suffering if they dripped blood.

Murray was obviously making a relevant point when he stressed that he went into Friday’s confrontation bolstered by a win-loss ratio against Roddick that, though far less overwhelming than Federer’s, was more than favourable enough to be a solid justification for confidence. Just such questioning of the value of naked statistics was, as it happened, intrinsic to my conviction — nourished rather than weakened as last week’s action unfolded and the hopes attached to Murray hardened to expectation — that if the Scot did become the first male player from these islands to reach the Wimbledon singles final since Bunny Austin in 1938, his attempt to be the first British winner since Fred Perry completed a hat-trick of triumphs in 1936 would crash into the buffers of Federer’s brilliance.

Blood allegiance isn’t my main reason for admiring Murray (at 22, he convinces as having the depth of talent and of competitive resolution to be an outstanding contender in Grand Slam tournaments for years to come) but nor was my fealty to Federer’s greatness solely responsible for seeing him as an immovable obstacle to my countryman’s immediate ambitions. The form book was a factor. In speculation about what might occur in the showdown that had begun to look inevitable, it was the Swiss who fared badly when his encounters with Murray were examined in purely mathematical terms, given that in their eight collisions during the past five years Federer finished in front only twice. But everybody knows he is galvanised by tennis’s biggest occasions, and especially by Wimbledon and the US Open, where he dismantled Murray in three sets last season.

So, whereas it was legitimate to downplay the importance of Murray’s superior numbers against Federer, the Wimbledon context leaves Roddick bereft of any basis for gouging a shred of optimism from the long catalogue of torture that has been his experience of facing one of the sporting wonders of this or any other age. Yet we can be sure the underdog won’t be cowering. Having trimmed his weight and refocused his game under a new coach, he can be counted on to strive proudly to hurt his opponent with the several formidable weapons in his arsenal, particularly that blasting serve and what impressed many who watched him subdue Murray as an unprecedented sharpness at the net. But his prospects of improving momentously on the results of the two previous finals he has shared with Federer in SW19 — he won one set in 2004, none in 2005 — must be slight. Roddick’s role is likely to be that of gallant foil to the history-maker.

Federer, who is 27, is the first man to appear in seven consecutive finals at the All England Club since the challenge round was abolished in 1922 and over those seven years he has been beaten once in 48 matches. That, of course, was last July when Rafael Nadal contrived to perform a sliver more supernaturally than Federer did in a contest whose dramatic fluctuations and towering standards ranked it with the most memorable ever witnessed in any sport. Federer has dropped just 12 sets at Wimbledon since 2003, only one in his present bid to lift his aggregate of Grand Slam titles to an unequalled 15.

His statistics are phenomenal but less so than the grace and beauty, the miracles of timing and touch and creativity, that amass them. After the trauma of his photo-finish loss in the epic struggle with Nadal 12 months ago, there seemed to be signs that his powers were about to endure a slow, incremental erosion. But the current evidence suggests the decline was almost entirely in his confidence. When the one accusing gap in his list of achievements was filled by success in the French Open last month, the reassuring and relaxing effect was huge.

Perhaps there has been a fractional diminishing of his gifts but, even if that is true, he remains equipped to rule supreme at Wimbledon and unless Roddick can force his way into one or two tiebreaks, in which the American boasts a daunting strike rate, Federer’s sovereignty should be smoothly formalised this afternoon.

The defeat of Nadal by Robin Soderling at Roland Garros plainly helped the Swiss’s cause there and Nadal’s withdrawal from this Wimbledon because of injury has been a clear advantage. There is a sense that the tennis gods are smiling on Federer. Why wouldn’t they favour one of their own?

Applause for Owen deal is premature

Understatement is seldom rife on the sports pages but it was common currency when the headline writers of several newspapers elected to describe Manchester United’s signing of Michael Owen on a free transfer as a shock move. Earthquake might have better defined the impact the news had on me. Perhaps, as many approving observers suggest, this is a deal that will turn out to be an inspired piece of business by Sir Alex Ferguson. But, to borrow from the idiom of a world with which both the great manager and his new player are familiar, laying odds against a glorious outcome would seem to be more justified than betting odds on.

If United rate Owen’s surviving gifts highly enough to covet him now, why did they not press to secure his signature four years ago when his move from Real Madrid to Newcastle was marked (understandably, to my mind) by a spectacular apathy among the powerful English clubs who might have been expected to challenge the limited magnetism of St James’ Park?

Does anybody believe that he is better than, or even as good as, he was then, considering how relentlessly his long-term accumulation of injuries, and of associated doubts about his regular availability for action, has continued in the northeast? If his attraction at this stage is as a low-stakes gamble (reportedly, his basic wage will be as comparatively modest as £30,000 a week, with a rise to his accustomed level contingent on appearances, the scoring of goals and his general contribution to success), is such a bargain-basement transaction a natural priority for United?

It’s reasonable to assume that Owen retains a respectable measure of his goal-scoring flair but how much has his capacity to exploit that talent been reduced by the blatant diminishing of his pace? How often will he be fit to play? Ferguson’s instincts in such matters are far more finely tuned than mine. But, while I hope he has backed a winner, I’m pessimistic.

Cause to keep faith in Stars

Sea The Stars confirmed that this is a vintage season for three-year-old colts with the regally authoritative performance at Sandown yesterday that made him the first horse since Nashwan 20 years ago to win the 2,000 Guineas, the Derby and the Coral-Eclipse in the same season. When Fame And Glory, who was 1.75 lengths behind Sea The Stars in second place at Epsom, slaughtered his field in the Irish Derby at The Curragh last Sunday many, notably his trainer Aidan O’Brien, decided he was the superior champion of the two. What is needed now is a rematch but concerns about ideal ground conditions and optimum distances (the Derby trip is 1½m, yesterday’s Eclipse was over 1¼m) could prevent it. If they do meet again, I won’t be deserting Mick Kinane and Sea The Stars.