Mornin', everyone. How about that trophy presentation ceremony Sunday night in Melbourne? That surely was one for the ceremony hall of fame, not least because the obligatory sponsor-thanking and commercial presence was kept tight and brief, as it should be for everyone's benefit, including said sponsors.

My favorite moment of that touching, extended emotional moment occurred not when Murray revealed his anguish at failing to to reward the long-suffering British fans with a Grand Slam title after so many decades of frustration. It was right after Murray, overcome with emotion, abruptly relinquished the microphone.

Roger Federer took it over, and as he began his remarks he suddenly tried to turn and re-position the entire mike stand, so that he could face Murray as he made his remarks. It was one of those telling, spontaneous moments in which a man reveals something about himself - in this case, Federer's decency and heartfelt compassion. Roger wasn't just going to sleepwalk through another variation on the "well played, you're a talented guy, better luck next time" speech. He instinctively wanted to connect with Murray - let the guy know he really did feel his pain, and offer comfort and consolation.

Then that hand of officialdom intruded, and forced the mike stand - and Federer - back into a position suitable for television.

I enjoy having a little fun at Roger's expense now and then; I'll be the first to admit it. It's important to keep things in perspective with this guy, or else you may end up falling to your knees in his presence and offering him your first-born child. But there isn't a player out there more deserving of our respect, or one who, despite his glorious game and remarkable achievements, so frequently and thoroughly acts in a way that reminds us that he's as regular, in the best and deepest sense of the word, as you or I. Who implicity rebukes us whenever we're so overwhelmed by his talent and the sheer beauty of his game that we look upon him as a god among mere mortals.

Most mortals, in their wildest fantasies, aspire to be gods in one way or another - as parents, poets, colleagues, lovers, missionaries. Federer is a god, Mercury at loose on a quarter-acre of cement, who might be said to aspire to be human - but for the fact that there's nothing "aspirational" about it. He just is. The word that keeps popping into my mind isn't very sexy, but it's gold: Decent.

Video   Federer victorious Feb. 1, 2010: After congratulating an emotional Andy Murray for a great tournament, Roger Federer says he thinks he played some of the best tennis of his life in winning the Australian Open title.

So on to the tennis.

After the women's final, I wrote almost exclusively about the critical importance of the serve as the anchor of anyone's game. I thought the men's final underscored the point as well, albeit in a less conspicuous and far richer way. Male pros, because of their strength, are more inclined to appreciate the real value of that opening stroke; women, because of the lesser role power generally plays in their games, are more inclined these days to focus on the return. Breaking serve is so much the grail in tennis that the WTA ladies sometimes ignore that the ability to break means little if you don't also have the ability to hold. The reigning mindset leads to some highly entertaining shoot-outs, but you're left thinking: That was fun, but it wasn't good tennis.

In the deciding third-set tiebreaker yesterday, Andy Murray missed his last three first serves; it had something to do with the outcome. It was hardly surprising that he missed, though, for throughout the match Murray seemed to be adjusting to the toss of the serve on the fly. He often looked off-balance, like a tower toppling sideways as he struggled to win the race to make contact before he was canted so far out of position that the ball would end up in Mirka Federer's lap instead of Roger Federer's service box.

On the whole, Murray's artless (as in awkward, and sometimes almost painful to watch) serving was of a piece with the rest of his game, and for the first time I saw him in a slightly different light. Murray can look an awful lot like that very tough but rough-edged and clearly unschooled recreational player who becomes the bane of local tournament rivals because of his extra-technical qualities - raw athletic ability, a robust appetite for competition, a talent for concentrating and fighting off nerves.

Slideshow   Action from Australia Take a look at the best shots from the Australian Open. more photos

This shouldn't be surprising, given Murray's history. He's from Scotland, not exactly a hotbed of tennis, and his career was supervised by his mother, Judy. Murray is a DiY tennis player, but that's not automatically a limitation - would any parent or coach teach his daughter to play like Steffi Graf? Would any parent or coach turn down her resume? A good temperament beats technically superior strokes any day; it's one of the things that makes tennis great.

And then there's Federer, who has both - the temperament and the beautiful strokes (except for that one forehand he sometimes sets up for with the racket at a right angle to his arm, like a carpenter holding a framing hammer, but let's not quibble). Add to that a nimble athleticism that made Murray, despite his anticipation and speed, look lumbering and flat-footed, all arms and legs, not always working in perfect harmony.