The demons he hoped he had rid from his system returned yesterday and Andy Murray’s hopes of reaching the quarter-finals of the Pacific Life Open ended with his side of the court in a deep, mournful shadow.

This was a real pity, a 2-6, 7-5, 6-3 defeat by Tommy Haas, of Germany, the man he had hauled himself from the floor to beat in the last eight here last year in a match defined by the Scot’s heroics when he was hurting in every part of his body. Last night, his heart was aching more than anything else.

Haas is on a roll, having beaten Andy Roddick in the opening round with a mixture of the cunning and craft that highlighted the early phase of a career that is enjoying a real renaissance as he approaches his 30th birthday. Those elements were in full flow again, with Murray left to rue the fact that he let four break points slip in the fifth game of the final set, when he looked to be in the driving seat.

Murray had concluded after his victory over Ivo Karlovic the previous night that he could not afford to plunge too deeply into self-criticism, and yet to spend even a few minutes burning in the heat at courtside yesterday was to endure more of the Murray monologues that afflict him at times of woe. “You are walking away from every single point thinking about why you haven’t got a first serve,” he admonished himself. The next point, he landed one. “Wow,” he exclaimed. Without that element of his game as a consistent ally, he is going to be in trouble.

And yet in the first set, Murray was in fluent control, caressing winners, defending brilliantly and drawing error after error from the German racket. He hauled himself back in the second set as well, but contrived to play with absolute certainty from the back of the court one minute and then slip into a period of sloppiness. This was a real opportunity lost.

The sky was simply too crystal blue for a second lightning strike. Haas was happy for that. It did not happen either for Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, who became the talk of the Australian Open not simply for reaching the final but for seeping into its every pore, a player stronger in the head than any other from France since Yannick Noah was its raison d’être in the 1980s.

Yesterday, Tsonga gave a taste of what the Americans had watched on television six weeks ago in their own desert backyard, though it was not enough to quell the determination of Rafael Nadal, the defending champion, to obliterate the anguish of Melbourne. It was Nadal who had suffered Tsonga at his exhilarating best at the Rod Laver Arena that tumultuous semi-final day; yesterday, with Laver fanning himself in the crowd, Tsonga almost repeated the feat.

There was a reminder of what makes the 22-year-old such a fabulous gift to his sport — the mood swings, the leaps, the bounds, the full-throated roars, the absolute self-confidence. And this was against the player who defines all those qualities every time he reaches Paris at the height of the clay-court spring. This time, though, the Spaniard refused to buckle, even when he stared defeat in the face trailing 5-2 in the final set.

When Nadal whipped off his headband and sank to his knees at the culmination of three hours and three minutes of edge-of-the-seat tennis, having won 6-7, 7-6, 7-5, it was as if he had won Roland Garros for a fourth time, not reached the quarter-finals of the first Masters Series event of the year.

Watching these two muscular titans of the sport locking horns, Laver must have wondered where the sport has gone since he played in crisp whites and with a cultured touch. These boys do not hold anything back and it was only that Tsonga tightened when he had the match by the throat that Nadal sensed he could move in for the kill.

Also into the last eight is David Nalbandian, the Argentinian, who took apart Juan Carlos Ferrero, the former world No 1, for the loss of four games.