There's no stopping mean green machine Andy Murray

It's a look-at-me sort of top: an invitation to the world to watch a master at his game. And why not? Murray has played some dominant tennis during this tournament and the green goblin of Dunblane had never walked onto a tennis court with a better chance of showing tennis fans around the globe that he had the stone-cold stones to win a Grand Slam event.

At 8.30am, all the omens were good. Last year's nemesis, Roger Federer, had his trousers pressed earlier this week by Novak Djokovic (who claimed that he'd be watching this match in bed, eating popcorn). Rafa Nadal, the world's greatest player, had followed last year's form by turning up to the tournament half-crocked. Today's opponent, David Ferrer, was a clay-court man whom Murray had made a habit of trouncing on hard surfaces.

There would have been habitual daytime TV watchers forsaking a morning watching Lorraine and Jeremy Kyle for this. Office desk jockeys tuning into set-by-set reports, or watching iPlayer on the lowdown.

In Melbourne there was decent vocal support for Murray among the watching crowd in the stands. They sang: "Let's go Andy, let's go!" There were bellows of encouragement, squeals of excitement. Even a giant flock of seagulls seemed to want in on the action. Towards the end of the second set, they circled low over the court, diving down for a close-up on Murray's serve. (Or possibly, dive-bombing him, to take revenge on the Murray clan - Andy's brother Jamie killed a seagull with a serve earlier this week.)

And with the eyes of the world upon him, Murray set about delivering what he does best: a nervy, slightly erroneous, hopelessly engaging match.
He may not play killer, metronomic tennis when he hits the business end of tournaments. But the British No1 usually delivers a spectacle guaranteed to keep you enthralled.

The first set was a ragged affair. Neither Ferrer nor Murray looked like they wanted to attack. There was a strangely polite feel to it. There were unforced errors aplenty - Murray hit double figures in that box by the sixth game of the first set.

Ferrer, meanwhile, showed no intention of playing the blue-court patsy that he had been billed as before the match.

The Spaniard dealt with the Murray serve well, grunting as he powered shots, making mistakes of his own, but determined that Murray would have it harder in this match than at any time in the tournament so far.

It was Murray who cracked first. He does nothing the easy way - not when he has a global audience to entertain. He threw away a clutch of break points in the ninth game of the first set, and in the 10th, which featured a blistering rally that attracted gasps from the Melbourne crowd, it got to him. One slip too many cost Murray a rare dropped set.

What the first set began, the second set developed. Murray's game grew not so much ragged as simply fatigued.

Halfway through the second set he was puffing, a weary look in his eyes. When Ferrer shaped himself to smash at a critical point in the fifth game, Murray just dropped his arm, as though it had gone suddenly numb, and conceded the game to love.

Yet a game later he had roused himself, firing down thunderous first serves that Ferrer simply couldn't handle. When the second set reached tie-break, he cranked out an impeccable six straight points, winning 7-3 to level the match at 4-6, 7-6.

Murray may not have as much mental discipline as the greatest players but he has bags and bags of dog. After looking exhausted in the second set - apparently carrying a niggle to his leg, he powered through the third 6-1.

The final set saw Murray win the opening 10 points as he took a 2-0 lead but Ferrer hit back to level and from then on it went with serve into a tie-break. Murray was not to be denied.

When he sat down between games, the key-lime attire was wicking sweat like crazy. It may not have been pretty but it was irresistibly eye-catching. Just like this fantastic Australian Open semi-final.

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