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Play begins on Centre Court at 2pm. Xan will be here from 1.30pm. While you're waiting, here are Kevin Mitchell's musings on how Rafael Nadal is on the verge of eclipsing a certain Swiss fellow as the greatest player in the history of the game ...

Rafael Nadal has Roger Federer's legacy in his sights

When they pack away the strawberries, calm the parched grass and close up this marvellous old institution for another year, Rafael Nadal's name should be written all over the 133rd edition of Wimbledon.

If he beats Tomas Berdych in the final this afternoon – as he should do on rising form and proven pedigree – the amazing Spaniard will be closing in on Roger Federer for the unofficial and hotly contested title of best player in the history of the game.

If that has the sting of blasphemy about it – and Nadal thinks it does – there are reasons to at least wonder if he could unseat the Swiss, winner of six Wimbledons among his 16 Grand Slam titles, a whopping nine in front of Nadal, who has won here just once and been runner-up twice – both to Federer.

As Federer maintained after an imperfect exit from these championships at the quarter-final stage, he is still hungry to resume his trophy chasing. He does not accept there is even a hint of a decline in his game, and it would indeed be a brave bookmaker who offered a price on his not winning more major titles, maybe even another handful, which would probably put him out of sight of the rest of the field, and certainly he remains the prime threat on grass.

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The preview: Final Sunday, end of days and these championships are drawing to a close. It is the cruel logic of the gentlemen's singles draw that it eventually gives us one winner and 127 losers. The opening round provides a mass cull of 64 hopefuls, a bloodbath in tennis whites, after which the survivors are ushered through, wearied and relieved, only to find themselves picked off at a slower (though no less remorseless) rate until there is just one more victim to find. Today, the thinking goes, that victim will be Tomas Berdych.

The 24-year-old Czech has exceeded the world's (and possibly his own) expectations at this event. He demolished six-time champion Roger Federer in the quarter-finals and put Novak Djokovic to the sword in the semis. He is possessed of a fearsome serve and a monster forehand and has shown, time and again, that he can keep a cool head in a crisis.

But facing him across the net is Rafael Nadal, the world number one, who missed the chance to defend his title last year and is now in the final stages of his mission to reclaim the kingdom. Nadal and Berdych have met 10 times before, with the Spaniard carrying a seven-three lead. Once, some years ago, the Czech was able to dominate Nadal with sheer, brutish power. Since then, it's been one-way traffic. They have met once before on the lawns of Wimbledon, in the 2007 quarter-finals. Nadal won that one 7-6, 6-4, 6-2.

How to sum up today's men's singles final? Kevin Mitchell, the Guardian's tennis correspondent compares it to a tussle between a bull and a matador except that on this occasion, he says, the bull will win. Similarly, you could view this one as a contest between the boxer and the puncher. Nadal is the former; quick, clever and industrious; working his man over with a flurry of body-blows and using swift footwork to keep out of danger. Berdych is the puncher. His plan is to plant his feet, bring back his arm and throw hay-maker bombs off either wing. If he can connect with enough of these, he might just knock the number one to the turf.

The past three finals have served up five-set classics (Federer over Nadal in 2007; Nadal over Federer in 2008; Federer versus Roddick in 2009). But I'm not sure this one will quite go the distance. Random prediction: Berdych will belt more outright winners than Nadal, but it won't be enough to bring him victory. Nadal has too much in his arsenal. His work-rate is too lively. He should grind the Czech down, wear him out and win in four.

The knock-up: Tomas Berdych is first out of the locker room, with Nadal trailing just behind. The Czech slumps in his seat and hands a quartet of bottles to a ball-boy. The bottles are full of a cloudy yellow liquid and are no doubt urine samples, handed over in advance ahead of the obligatory drugs test. Berdych hands them over willingly, with the hint of a sheepish smile. It is a smile that says: Hey, I have nothing to worry about. But this is a bit embarrassing all the same.

Rafael Nadal runs to the baseline to begin the knock-up, bouncing on his feet to get the juices flowing. It is a clear, warm day on Centre Court, but the wind has picked up and the breeze blows the top-soil off the ground. The general feeling is that, assuming the wind is a factor, it will effect Berdych's big-hitting, precision game more than it does Nadal's. We shall see.

At the baseline, the 12th-seed Berdych limbers up with half-speed forehands and backhands. He is the first Czech to reach the men's singles final since Ivan Lendl, arguably the greatest player never to win this title. Lendl battled through to the final Sunday twice, in 1986 and 1987, but his angular game was fatally unsuited to the slick courts and low-bouncing ball. These days the ground is firmer and the balls are slower and Nadal enthuses that there is not much difference between the grass and the clay. That works to Berdych's advantage too. He is a big man and likes a ball that sits up high, hanging in the air and waiting for him to hit it.

First set, Berdych* 1-0 Nadal: Tomas Berdych barrels quickly out of the blocks. His serve is working and his forehand is in the groove and Nadal is left to scramble about the baseline, still in search of his rhythm. Love game to the Czech.

First set, Berdych 1-1 Nadal*: "I love you, Rafa!" shouts a man in the stands. It may be Uncle Toni, who controversially coached his nephew during a torrid five-set victory over Philipp Petzschner in round three. Or maybe not. The Spaniard is a hugely popular figure out here and the crowd applauds warmly as he coasts through a love game of his own.

First set, Berdych* 2-1 Nadal: An encouraging early sign for Nadal. He catches the Berdych serve on his forehand, flicking his return back deep to catch the 12th-seed napping. But finding a rhythm is tough against Berdych, who hits fast and deep, going for the winner at the earliest opportunity. The Czech holds to 15.

First set, Berdych 2-2 Nadal*: Rafael Nadal's serve may well be his most underrated weapon. It comes through quick, with kick and disguise, and Berdych struggles to get a reading on it. But he makes some crucial inroads here, scrambling into position to test the Spaniard with a lob and then clobber him with forehand drives to either side. At 30-all he has a chance, yet the chance comes and goes, kicking off the turf and out towards the stands.

First set, Berdych* 3-2 Nadal: The 12th-seed decides to press forward and kill Nadal at the net. He chugs north like a battleship, his guns blazing, unconcerned when the Spaniard laces him with a forehand pass. Keep going, keep going. Take the fight to the world number one. The tactic works and Berdych holds to 15.

First set, Berdych 3-3 Nadal*: But now, with a grunt and a crack, come the ominous signs that Nadal's game is slipping into gear. His forehand, comparatively muted in the early games, abruptly starts zipping through and rearing off the baseline and the kick serve comes good with ace number-three. And with that we're level: three-all in the first.

First set, Berdych* 3-4 Nadal: Panic stations, panic stations! The sirens are wailing, indicating that the battleship is holed below the waterline. Berdych rolls forward again, only for Nadal to tear him apart with a forehand pass down the line to bring up love-40. Already, several crew members are seen dragging out the life-raft. Berdych saves one point with that big, clubbing forehand but he can't salvage the next. Nadal breaks and pulls ahead.

First set, Berdych 3-5 Nadal*: Now a stretch of clear blue water opens up between Rafa Nadal and lumbering Tomas Berdych. The Czech is pegged back on the baseline, unable to move his feet and control his drives. On the last point, Nadal gives him the run-around, sending the Czech off to the right as he hooks a sugar-sweet forehand back behind his man.

NADAL WINS THE FIRST SET, 6-3: Just what is Berdych's game-plan today? Has he lost the map or is he merely reading it upside-down? If the Czech stands at the baseline, feeding Nadal balls like he's doing right now, then he'll be on the ocean-bed in about an hour's time. He has to try something different; has to take his chances; has to knock Nadal off his stride. The Spaniard breaks again to put the opening set in his pocket.

Second set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 1-0: Run, thinks Tomas Berdych. I can still run at least. So Berdych runs, hauling his heavy frame around the back-court until one, two, three break points bob gloriously into view. Can he grasp them? No he cannot. The number one promptly knocks him off-course with a flurry of swinging serves and kicking forehands, and the Czech is still floundering.

Now the wind is picking up, whipping white-caps off the court. It blows Nadal's hair across his brow and disrupts his ball toss. Might it blow some good news in Berdych's direction? Again, no. The Czech blasts a forehand wide to slip one game behind.

Second set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 1-1: A-ha: here at last is a glimpse of the Berdych who whopped Federer and flattened Djokovic. He opens his shoulders and tilts at the lines, crowning a love game with a thunderous ace down the middle.

Second set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 2-1: Now it is Nadal's turn to run - run! - around the back-court, scampering this way and that and inviting Berdych to hit just one more shot to finish him off. Did I say just one more? Make that two more, three more. One more than you can manage.

Second set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 2-2: A fresh thought wafts through Berdych's head and he seizes at it, a drowning man. Hit aces, he thinks. Hit ACES! He hits aces and holds to love.

Second set, Nadal* leads Berdych* 6-3, 3-2: The Spaniard's pressure appears to be telling as Berdych blunders impotently off in pursuit of those probing topspin forehands. He reaches one and sends it off into the crowd. He reaches another and slaps it at his own feet. This was not what he meant to do.

Second set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 3-3: Bottle this game, it's Berdych in essence. Most of the time he just hits aces. Other times he hits heavy first serves, is gifted with a weak reply and is able to strike a winner off the forehand. It's a great bottle, an impressive bottle. But it is drifting, drifting miles from shore.

Second set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 4-3: Let's state the obvious: Berdych needs to get a handle on Nadal's serve very soon. The Spaniard is holding easily, firing that kick serve out wide and scampering in to nail a backhand volley.

Second set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 4-4: Aces, thinks Berdych. Aces! It is the only word rattling in his tormented skull right now. It is his north star, his lucky heather. Aces.

Second set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 5-4: The pugilists jab and parry but Nadal is quicker, cleverer; he makes Berdych looks clumsy. The Spaniard holds to love.

Second set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 5-5: Nadal jumps to love-15, making Berdych stoop low to dig out a volley and then lancing him with a clean forehand pass. The Czech's Wimbledon campaign is now hanging entirely on his first serve. It's the serve that is delaying Nadal's progress, the aces that are keeping Berdych in this match. He hits another out wide to the backhand and keeps level; five-all in the second.

Second set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 6-5: The 12th-seed would dearly love to get hold of some of these returns. He is angry and frustrated, his temper fraying beneath his baseball cap. If God were to give him just a split second longer, he could plant his feet and ram the thing right back down the Spaniard's throat. But he is being rushed and distracted and is one-step late on almost all of his shots.

NADAL WINS THE SECOND SET, 7-5: It's love-15, it's love-30 and Nadal scents blood in the water. In his fury, Berdych hits out (literally) and now it's love-40. The Spaniard duly takes set number two as another Berdych torpedo floats wide.

Third set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 7-5, 1-0: Tomas Berdych lines up his cannons for one last assault, blasting Nadal off court and then shunting forward to kill the point at the net. But what's that in front of him? Why, it is none other than Nadal, the man who a second ago was off way off in the stands. The Spaniard takes the ball on his backhand and rifles it for the pass.

Third set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 7-5, 1-1: Punch-drunk and weary, Berdych goes forward again. The back-court has been no friend to him in this match; maybe the net will be kinder. He reaches for a forehand volley, listing on one leg and sees the ball drop blissfully on a vacant patch of grass.

Third set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 7-5, 2-1: Now, through the murk and the seaweed, a bold idea washes like a miracle into the Czech's harried brain. Go forward, says the idea. Volley at the net. He follows the idea where it leads (north; forward) and abruptly arrives at break point. But this time Nadal gives him no chance to run forward, pushing him back until an exhausted backhand pops into the tape. And so Berdych trudges back to his seat, flapping his racket in fury. Not waving, but drowning.

Third set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 7-5, 2-2: Bliss for Berdych; salvation for Berdych. The Czech bags an easy game.

Third set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 7-5, 3-2: How much longer can Tomas Berdych stay afloat in these choppy waters? He kicks feebly and keeps dipping below the surface. He has yet to engineer a break of the Nadal serve and fares no better here. The Spaniard holds serenely to 15.

Third set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 7-5, 3-3: Boom, go the Tomas Berdych aces. Boom. Seldom has the noise sounded more poignant. The Czech has nothing more to give except booming aces and the occasional death-or-glory run to the net.

Third set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 7-5, 4-3: With a shuffle of feet and a flex of forearm, Rafa Nadal scurries into the backhand side to lash a lethal south-paw forehand, inside-out, to the far corner of the court. Berdych runs for it, but his pursuit is merely for form's sake.

Third set, Nadal leads Berdych* 6-3, 7-5, 4-4: At 40-15, Berdych gropes and fumbles and finds forward gear again. But at the net, he is abruptly passed by a high forehand, slathered with topspin that drops way inside the baseline. Nothing else for it: he falls back on his heavy first serve and ties the score at four-all.

Third set, Nadal* leads Berdych 6-3, 7-5, 5-4: Whip-crackaway, whip-crackaway. It's yet another love game for the Spanish Armada.

"This is obscene," says Shreela via email. "Give me something ... anything to justify my presence in front of the telly." I'm guessing our correspondent is referring to the tennis, and to the brutal bashing that Nadal is inflicting on Berdych. But Flog It is currently airing on BBC2 and Shreela may just as easily be referring to that.

NADAL WINS, 6-3, 7-5, 6-4: Is he down? Has he sunk? Does he sleep with all the fishes? The Berdych battleship lists to love-30, courtesy of a devastating pass from the Spaniard. He makes one last attempt, hauling himself back up to 40-30. But the legs are gone and the brain is soup, and a moment later it's match point Nadal.

Go forward, thinks Berdych. It's worked in the past and it may work again. It doesn't. Nadal catches him with a lashing, whip-crack pass on the forehand, the ball zipping cross-court and kicking happily off the grass. And Rafael Nadal is Wimbledon champion for the second time.

The presentation: Rafa Nadal's 2009 Wimbledon defence was killed off by a dodgy knee but he came this year as a man on a mission. His vital, vigorous game was too much for hulking Tomas Berdych. The Czech pretender sunk swiftly to the ocean floor where his big-hitting game sprouted barnacles. Try as he might, Berdych had no answer to the Spaniard's onslaught and promptly went down at the end of each set.

On court, Nadal steps forward to collect his trophy. This is his second Wimbledon title and his eighth grand slam in all. That puts him level with the likes of Jimmy Connors, Ivan Lendl and Andre Agassi on the pantheon of all-time greats.

In the meantime, the BBC TV coverage continues to excise some viewers. Mark Taylor's beef is with the cameramen: "Their obsession with zooming in on rich people groping and pawing at each other during the games is making me feel ill. Not a classic final by any means but surely they can find other things to show us."

Apologies, by the way, for the lack of email banter. I received a sum total of seven emails during the course of this match - five of which were from people requesting more email banter. And yes, I did consider cutting and pasting these missives, but it all felt a bit too meta and postmodern somehow. Thanks for sticking with me all the same.

So that's that; Wimbledon been and gone for another year. It was, as Mark Taylor points out, hardly a classic final. But it has at least provided a classic champion: a tireless whirling dervish who deals in a unique brand of non-malicious violence; a man who directs his fury at the ball but never at his opponent. So the bull gored the matador; the boxer out-thought the puncher. Rafael Nadal stands proud as winner of the 2010 Wimbledon championship.