Novak Djokovic doesn't miss much, or anything.
Few athletes cultivate the world-number-one's aura of imperious ease on and off the court. Notably, he does not seem to sweat. Ever. Two hours into any match, he's sleek as a ferret, like he just popped out of a barber's chair.
He used that meticulously groomed personality to beat Kevin Anderson on Tuesday. It's how he breezes past everyone these days.
Once the South African, a man so large and cantilevered he looks like he's made of Meccano, got a good look at the Serb, he gently folded up.
Afterward, Djokovic was in his element, holding court and allowing the media to gently tease him. Every time he gives a presser, it's an audience with a particularly indulgent king.
A woman lobbed up a question about playing without a 24-hour break – as Djokovic will have to do since his fourth-round match was completed over two days. Her English was heavily accented. She referenced his "experience" doing this before. To these ears, and to Djokovic's apparently, it sounded as if she'd said the word "excuse."
Djokovic stiffened. All the fun bled out of him.
"Just repeat," he said dangerously. "I didn't hear the first part."
This time, she stopped very purposefully and enunciated. Djokovic's internal weapons systems powered down, and he loosened again. No one else seemed to notice, but Djokovic had, without doubt. Alone amongst his peers, he is permanently locked on target.
At this level, the physical capabilities of one player versus another are relatively even. The great ones beat you with their minds.
Tennis, like golf, offers a surplus of time within the game to think about what's happening. Those recurrent pauses undo lesser competitors.
Anderson is one of those. He had plenty of time to think about his impending upset of the best player in the world.
On Monday, he jumped out to a two-set lead. In the third, he took a little breather. During the fourth, he began to reconstruct his game, but Djokovic had him disastrously cogitating. You can tell yourself you've got every chance of winning, but it's not the same thing as believing it will happen.
Play was halted by nightfall. The pair returned Tuesday afternoon.
Two small moments turned the match. After fighting off a break, Djokovic turned and began shrieking in the direction of his box. A nearby ball girl looked as if she might burst into tears.
The Serb said later the anger was self-directed, but it was also clearly a war cry launched toward Anderson, if not precisely in his direction. It demonstrably worked.
As the set lurched toward another tiebreak, Anderson hit two double-faults in the 11th game. It ended in that moment; Djokovic tidied up his mess in the 12th, winning 6-7 (6-8), 6-7 (6-8), 6-1, 6-4, 7-5. He moves on toward a final that's beginning to seem inevitable.
Anderson lost the game when he began to doubt his only difference-maker – his serve. Think of something you do very well, and then imagine doing it with someone you know is better than you. We can all feel Anderson's pain.
Afterward, he said he was "a little disappointed" by the collapse. He was wringing his hands hard enough to start a fire as he said it.
This is why Djokovic is now the only peerless member of what was once the troika atop men's tennis: He doesn't need to beat you; he knows you will eventually beat yourself. Sun Tzu had it best: "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
Roger Federer had this talent. Once his back betrayed him, he began to let it go gracefully. When he wins now, he does it with his all-round game rather than his psyche.
Rafael Nadal has been bleeding confidence for years. He intermittently summons it through force of will, but nobody else believes in it any more. He can't intimidate other men out of matches.
When the Spaniard was bounced last week, it prompted the sad realization that we've seen the best of him. He will continue to push forward for a while, but his path through every future tournament will always be tangled.
Andy Murray? Andy Murray is a fever you catch as you pass through the endless customs line at Heathrow. Everywhere else, he's incapable of raising your heart rate.
Serena Williams still has it, but occasionally pushes it aside either from indifference or weariness. On Tuesday afternoon, she showed up at less than her best. A great deal less. She looked as if she'd come out hoping to do a little light jogging, and had to play a match instead.
She frittered away the first set. Then she gave her opponent, Victoria Azarenka, the old Lance Armstrong peak over the shoulder and hit the afterburners. It ended in that stroll she'd been hoping for: 3-6, 6-2, 6-3. She's now won 26 grand slam matches in a row.
Most professional athletes can dazzle you. Only a few through history could do it when they weren't trying very hard. Williams has reached Muhammad Ali levels of extended dominance.
Djokovic and Williams – they're the last of tennis's current crop who can win matches while they're still getting taped in the dressing room. There is no one coming up who thus far suggests he or she is capable of assuming the title. But they're always there. They just haven't shown themselves yet.
After his loss, Anderson was asked to predict the final. He fidgeted in his chair a bit.
"It would be really hard to pick out of Andy, you know, and Novak. Obviously. If I had to pick one, I would just be guessing. You could probably guess as well as I could."
We could. What makes Djokovic special is that every player on the tour makes the same guess.