Roger Federer is facing the fact that he may not be the greatest male tennis player of all time, perhaps only the second, or even the third greatest. This is a position that every other tennis player in the world envies with all his heart, but for Federer, it is nothing less than a crisis.

So he has done what every sensible man does when crisis comes: panicked. It’s two weeks before the French Open starts, a tournament he longs to win; it’s six weeks before Wimbledon, a tournament he is hoping to win for the fifth successive time, to equal the record of Björn Borg. And he has lost to a relative nobody and sacked his coach.

Federer has won ten grand-slam singles titles, which makes him equal fifth in the all-time list, but he is only 25 and could double that. Or not, of course. The last of these was the Australian Open, which he won this year in his usual serene fashion. He has been the No 1-ranked player since February 2, 2004, and that’s a record, too.

But he has lost four of his past 11 matches. He lost twice to Guillermo Cañas, after which he was uncharacteristically ungracious, chuntering about his opponent’s 15-month drugs ban. Federer then, inevitably, met Rafael Nadal, his nemesis and antithesis, who consistently beats him on clay, in the final of the Monte Carlo Masters Series event. Federer lost 6-4, 6-4, but despite the scoreline it was a serious hammering.

His next tournament was in Rome and he arrived before everyone else to get his eye well and truly in. But instead, he was beaten by Filippo Volandri, a clay-court specialist who can’t serve and was ranked No 53 in the world, though he is now up to No 34. “Why should I discuss it here with you?” he asked the press. So he discussed it with his coach, Tony Roche, and sacked him. Or rather, they reached a mutual agreement to split, as the official version prefers it.

He’s rattled, Federer. The man who uses serenity as one of his most potent weapons has fretted himself into crisis. Against Volandri he played like a man without confidence, without belief. I know: it sounds like Marilyn Monroe saying, “If only I could look sexy” or Vincent saying, “If only I could paint a picture”. But these things happened, too.

Federer made no attempt to impose his game and his personality on the match against Volandri. No serve and volley to make the Italian doubt himself; service returns that just put the ball back in play; and then his forehand lost its accuracy. Impossible, I hear you say. But it happened, as Volandri will no doubt tell his grandchildren.

Federer has always longed to win grand-slam events on every surface, but like many other champions – Sampras, Connors, Tilden, McEnroe – he has never managed it on clay. Not yet, anyway. He wants to be as good as Rod Laver, who pulled off the Grand Slam of four titles in a year on two occasions.

Federer’s failure on clay has got to him. His domination on that surface by Nadal has also affected him. Fretting about being the best ever has eaten away at him. Some suggest that the superstar endorsement circuit has softened him, reducing his taste for the more sordid aspects of his trade.

We measure greatness not by a person’s ability to avoid crisis, but by his ability to deal with crisis. Steve Redgrave had diabetes before winning his fifth Olympic gold medal; Matthew Pinsent had his crew fall apart weeks before winning his fourth; Pete Sampras suffered a crisis of confidence after winning his first US Open and before winning his last, his fourteenth grand-slam title.

And so we shall measure Federer by the way he deals with what is happening to him. He has been this way before, of course, getting rid of another coach, Peter Lundgren, after winning his first Wimbledon, and then going it alone.

Perhaps going it alone again is what he needs. John McEnroe suggests that he needs a modern-minded coach – Roche is 61 – who will shout at him and tell him how to play. (Was he volunteering?) But perhaps this shake-up, any shake-up, is what Federer needs.

For there is no doubt that much of what we create – any of us, all of us – comes not from comfort but from pain, from need, from fear. You don’t get immune to those things by being the world No 1: au contraire. That can only come with retirement. That’s what Borg sought when he retired at the age of 26, having given all he had that was worth giving. I hope that’s not the way Federer is going, but if he does, he will have my respect and sympathy, and gratitude that I have been able to see one of – one of – the greatest players that ever lived.

But I hope very much that there is more to come, for the joy of watching, for the privilege of telling the tale, and because it would mean that Federer will show himself an even more considerable player than he is already. At present, Federer stands before us as a man hagridden by his own greatness. But the truly great – the greatest of all time – generally find a way of dealing with such matters.

Faltering Federer

How this year compares to last

2007

Australian Open: winner
Dubai International: winner
ATP Masters Series, Indian Wells: second-round defeat
ATP Masters Series, Miami: fourth-round defeat
ATP Masters Series, Monte Carlo: beaten in final
ATP Masters Series, Rome: third-round defeat

2006

Australian Open: winner
Dubai International: beaten in final
ATP Masters Series, Indian Wells: winner
ATP Masters Series, Miami: winner
ATP Masters Series, Monte Carlo: beaten in final
ATP Masters Series, Rome: beaten in final