Henman is dazzled in the gloom by Grosjean

The rain that so often seems to pour directly into Tim Henman's soul at Wimbledon gave him vital relief as he lived so precariously at the edge of the tournament yesterday.

Indeed, without a monsoon supply of it in early afternoon the prospect was of a swift and humiliating departure from the scene of so many glorious failures. Henman was at the mercy of the brilliant wiles of the accomplished Frenchman Sebastien Grosjean for 15 nerve-wrenching minutes before the first drops came just before two o'clock.

Grosjean had defeated Henman at Queen's on the run-in to the tournament and was nobody's idea, and least of all Henman's, of a comfortable ride into the semi-finals on Friday. That estimation of the level of threat was confirmed so sharply that the billing of the Frenchman as an authentic musketeer was swiftly underlined. The curly-haired swordsman produced moves as dazzling as any made by D'Artagnan.

For Henman the thrusts were just too much to cope with and he trailed 4-1 at the end of that brief exposure to Grosjean's easy, smooth touch. It was a formidable opening statement from a man who had been left under no doubt of his nation's expectations by the morning edition of the French sports bible, L'Equipe.

One headline told him that in England he was public enemy number one. Another banner said that the light was on green and he faced the whole nation of England. If this was so, he made it look like one of the lighter burdens of a competitive life that has yet to bring a major title but for some years has suggested one of the sharper, deeper talents on the circuit.

Before the match he had cheerfully gone along with suggestions of one local that for the sake of European harmony and British history he should consider playing very badly. "Maybe,'' he smiled, but behind his expression was a very tough resolve indeed.

He added: "You know I will have to try to play a good game for my own people. Hey, I know everybody will be for Tim and that the people think he has a really good chance to win this year. But a good game from me can spoil that. I like the English grass and have worked very hard since going out of my own tournament at Roland Garros in the second round.''

Grosjean went briskly to work to make a reality of his words, and his beautifully placed returns of serve - and some quite exquisite drop-shots - left Henman befuddled and glassy-eyed.

But that was a theme which was shattered - at least for a while - when the rain came again after just five minutes of the resumption, just time enough for the Frenchman to break Henman's serve for a second devastating time.

After 63 minutes Henman came back into the battle like a man purged of all his doubts. Though there were still moments of unaccountable frailty, they were now surrounded by a much more consistent body of work and as Grosjean's steps became leaden and his brow furrowed, Henman quite astonish- ingly roared back to a tie-break. Again, though his concentration proved flawed as he missed three set points at 6-3 and allowed Grosjean to take it 10-8

But the Centre Court has one article of faith. It is that somehow, and under the most discouraging circumstances, they will preserve their boy's fighting instincts. It happened yet again when Henman rallied strongly in the third set - his fists beginning to clench in that slightly mechanical way which is still guaranteed to bring roars of approval to SW19 - and the Frenchman appeared to be running those L'Equipe headlines back through his head.

He lost the second set 6-3 and the grace notes that had made his play so bewitching in that first rush of ascendancy disappeared, Henman's supporters presuming for good.

The ultimatum, however, lasted only so long as the latest deluge. This time Grosjean marshalled himself well and came out for a fourth time with a firm set of resolutions. One was to harass the local hero quite relentlessly, and in another 45 minutes of fiercely compressed action he gained the third set and a potential stranglehold on the match.

Henman, of course, had been to this taut place often enough and the memory of his psychological decline while watching the rain fall in the middle of his match with the eventual champion, Goran Ivanisevic, had to be rearing itself again. Henman was saying the other day that he had learned important lessons from that experience and it was a statement that Wimbledon was solemnly building its hopes upon as the damn gloom descended again last night.

It was, though, something of a desperate belief, and made more so by the suspicion that a beautifully gifted Frenchman had finally come to terms with the English climate.