Having just finished reading Agassi’s book, I’ve started to view tennis in a completely different light. If Agassi’s words are to be believed then it’s fair to say that he was never really outplayed by an opponent, with the exception perhaps being Sampras.

Instead he defeated himself either mentally or physically– he was injured, he was afraid his hair piece was going to fall off, his trainer’s kid was sick, his mum was sick, he tanked on purpose, he hated the sport, etc. About halfway through the book it started to remind me of things I’d heard my whole life.

Everyone knows a player that never loses. The sort of guy that gets soundly outplayed by a vastly better player and then walks of court and says his toe was sore.

Even better than this is the player that prepares his excuse in advance – the old pre-match injury trick. As a junior I remember a certain player who “struggled” for at least two summers with a knee injury. When he was winning the knee was fine and when he was losing the pain was excrutiating. It was entertaining to see him transform from an energetic 12 year old, into a hobbling old man and back again, all within the space of a few points. His wins were made all the more miraculous by this terrible injury and his loses were easily brushed away with the “I was injured” excuse.

Tennis players are supposed to be relatively fit and healthy yet you’d be hard pushed to find a bigger group of cripples than at my tennis club.

Some of the senior players look as though they are literally being held together by tape and straps. Of course it’s generally the worst players that are the most wrapped up.

There’s a man I remember from one of the singles teams who started the season wearing an ankle and elbow strap, but as the league progressed and his loses mounted, an alarming transformation began to take place.

First it was a matching strap for the other ankle (an unfortunate sprain during a 6/0 6/0 defeat), then the knees got the same treatment following a hard fought whitewash on some unforgiving hard courts, next tendonitis overcame his shins forcing him to tape them up Rafa style.

Through it all the brave warrior struggled on, even as injuries crept further up his body and tape threatened to engulf him. A lumber support took the strain of his back which had received a nasty twist in the midst of a 6/1 6/1 battle, and some tape helped shore up his right shoulder which had been forced to overcompensate for his mangled spine.

Long before tendinitus incredibly spread to his wrist and fingers, he had already become known as Tutankhamun, at least in my mind. In the final match of the season, with his body disintegrating and failing beyond belief, he withdrew after going a break up in the third set. I could hardly believe it.

It was the closest he’d ever come to a victory and he’d walked away from. Perhaps I was wrong, maybe I should have given him credit for holding out through the season as long as he did. I felt a trace of guilt which was quickly erased by what I witnessed the following week.

Entering my club I couldn’t help but notice a young boy who was playing on one of the far courts. When he wasn’t swinging and missing he was hitting wild shots that were landing anywhere within the area of the four enclosed courts.

Something about his complete lack of hand-eye coordination seemed oddly familiar and, sure enough, as I approached the fence, who did I see on the otherside of the court but Mr Tutankhamun himself – a nice father and son practice session – except this wasn’t the Tutankhamun I once new.

This was a newly reviltalised Tutankhamun playing with clothes instead of bandages and happily chasing after every ball like an overgrown puppy before freely belting back an equally uncoordinated return. Gone were the multiple sprains, the twisted back, the bad knees, the terminal tendonitis and the bad shoulder.

So if he had been faking all this time then why did he pull out a break up in third when he was on the brink of his first victory of the season and maybe even his life? I can only assume that the thought of victory scared him. After going a whole season contently losing and making excuses, here he was presented with a opportunity which, if taken, would potentially throw his injury claims into doubt. The only solution? Forfeit.

So how is this relevant to anything? Well the point is that a lot of players fake injury when faced with defeat or make excuses post defeat.

Obviously there are times when these excuses are genuine and times when they are not. As I neared the end of Agassi’s book I began to ask myself what if everything he said was true?

There’s no doubting his talent so maybe his explanations for unexpected loses to lesser players were genuine. No pro wants to tip off their opponent by admitting that they are injured before a match, likewise most pros keep their private life pretty quiet and so they’re unlikely to tell you if they’re having relationship problems or a family member is sick.

Agassi, by his own account, lost several important matches because of an injury or, more often than not, because his mind was somewhere else.

Tennis is such a mental game and reading Agassi’s book made me realise this more than ever. How many great players have underperformed because their mind has let them down?

Concentration and unwavering focus is paramount, which is why I have an incredible amount of respect for Isner and Mahut who recently completed the longest match in tennis history – an astonishing 183 games lasting 11 hours and 5 minutes.

What must have been running through their heads during the marathon fifth set? The temptation to give in must have been overpowering. Both would have known that after the exhausting encounter they would have little left for their next round match, likewise both would have been well aware that their chances of progressing far in the tournament, based on past performances, were already slim at best, nevertheless both refused to yield.

It is thoughts like these that can make or break a match. A mental lapse as your mind drifts to your potential next match can be all that your opponent needs to snatch a break, which is what makes the final set between these two players all the more remarkable.

From now on, I will be careful analysing the players in a way which I have not done before. I will be studying their walk to see if they’re carrying a slight injury; I’ll be watching their swing to see if it looks tight; I’ll be looking to see if they’re trying to finish points early because their stamina is waning; I’ll be taking note of their facial expressions to see if they look defeated after dropping a set or conceding a break point; and I’ll be listening carefully to uncharacteristic outbursts to see if they hint at some problem off the court which the player may secretly be dealing with.

Already I have some high-profile targets: Federer was a little shakey at Wimbledon, and that follows on from his shock defeat by Hewitt a few weeks back. Is he past his best physically or is there something more to it? Could it be that his motivation to keep giving 100% in matches and training day in day out is waning? Or could it be that he has undisclosed personal problems?

Likewise Nadal didnt exactly light up the courts with his tennis in the early rounds despite his comprehensive final win. Maybe he takes time making the adaption to clay after his French Open win or perhaps there’s something more going on behind the scenes.

There are so many factors involved in every match that, unless every top 100 player publishes an indepth biography at the end of their career, we are unlikely to ever know the whole story.

Agassi’s book reminded me of the hard work and dedication which goes into making it as a top player but above all it reminded me that this hard work is just a small part of what makes a winner. It is a combination of talent, training, luck and mental strength which creates a true champion. If any of these things are lacking then it’s unlikely that a player will be able to make it to the top or maintain a place there for any length of time.

With this in mind I have even more admiration for Federer’s grandslam record and Sampras’ record run as number one. These are players who managed to hold everything together but who knows how many other players could have been champions had it not been for injury or off-court problems.

Maybe I’m a cynic and I had Tutankhamun all wrong. Perhaps in another world he would have been a Federer or a Nadal – unfortunately in this world his collection of injuries let him down or at least that’s the excuse he likes to use!