Andy Murray faces the giant American, John Isner, in the fourth round at Melbourne Park. Photograph: Jon Buckle/PA

What Andy Murray carries with him into every grand slam are the weary expectations of a nation waiting for a successor to the last British male to win a major, Fred Perry, in 1936. It is one of sport's most tiresome statistics.

Again he is close. Again he deflects the expectations.

Murray has said in the past and rightly is not inclined to return to the subject that he doesn't feel this weight of history, that it is irrelevant to his efforts.

Mats Wilander, who won seven slams himself in the 80s, contributed to the subject clumsily on Friday when he said: "Well, hopefully he doesn't give a shit about Britain. I don't think he does, I really don't. I don't think there's pressure from the outside ... I think he has pressure to win a slam at some point in the next two years [only] to validate the fact that he was world No2 at some point. He is a work in progress. He is far from being fully developed."

Perhaps. But Murray does not see his career unfolding to someone else's timetable or expectations. For him (as for every pro), the only match is the next one. His next one happens to be against the American John Isner, who stands 6ft 9in and weighs 17st 7lbs. He is generally regarded as having one of the biggest first serves in the game, averaging 125mph, occasionally nudging 140mph.

But, however tall the order, literally and metaphorically, Murray will come up with his own solutions. His independence of thought is perhaps his most impressive trait, a player destined to be remembered alongside the likes of John McEnroe and Rod Laver as a brilliant court strategist.

If he does break through, Murray will be doing the game a service in more ways than one.

For maybe 20 years, the men's game has been locked into a cycle of big serve followed by heavy, thumping work from the back of the court, with rare excursions to the net. Increasingly, however, the most successful players are engaging in old-fashioned tennis-chess, not quite like it was in the days of wooden rackets and normal muscles, but getting there. The trend towards thinking tennis has been evident at these championships, where players have gone against stereotype - even the giant Isner.

He is no mere big-serve bully. He had to call on his wider game to come back in two tie-breaks against Gaël Monfils, and said, "I kept coming forward. I didn't play not to lose, I played to win. I kind of forced the issue in those tie-breaks. I was real proud of that."

What he will meet on Rod Laver here tomorrow is a player who will stretch his tennis intellect as much as those stork-like legs.

Born to fly

On one of the approaches to Melbourne Park, the walkway outside the MCG, stand two fine sculptures, one of Dennis Lillee midway through his delivery stride, the other of Bill Ponsford just after he has made one of his neat, cultured scoring shots.

What is striking about the images - and is testament to the skill of the sculptor - is the sense of perfect balance. Athletes who can hold their poise like this at the most stressful moment of high performance are set far, far apart from the rest of us. It is their gift. They rarely can explain it, and some times not rediscover it if it goes missing.

All great athletes - cricketers, footballers, boxers - are blessed with the ability to move with poise.

But few sports make such consistent demands on a player's talent for balance as tennis. And not many give the illusion of defying gravity with such ease as does Rafael Nadal.

For the rest of us, grounded to earth, it is still a wonder to behold.

Balancing act

Not quite so well balanced - at least in his young head - is the supremely talented Australian Bernard Tomic, whose other gift is for finding a way up most people's noses.

The only excuse trotted out for his churlish objection to playing after midnight this week (on Rod Laver on national television, it has to be said) was that he is only 17.

Well, cast your mind back. Just how big a prat were you at 17? Right. Not quite that big.