How did that happen? Having dominated his first four matches at this year's Wimbledon, Andy Murray spent long periods of yesterday's quarter-final lying on the canvas. He was being pummelled mercilessly by Fernando Verdasco, a handsome Spaniard built like a UFC fighter.

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The new Murray, the assertive, commanding figure we are growing used to, was soon jettisoned as Verdasco streaked into a two-set lead. Instead we reverted to Murray Mk I - a scampering, scurrying figure with his "a--- on the back fence," as Murray has described his own style before the Ivan Lendl-inspired revolution.

But if Murray's game was patchy, his mental fortitude was magnificent. When he faced four break points in the fourth set - virtual match points, considering the level of his opponent's performance - he crunched down a big first serve on each occasion. He might not have been able to overpower Verdasco, but he outwilled him to sneak through 4-6, 3-6, 6-1, 6-4, 7-5.

The last five minutes were the only ones he spent in the lead. Having already seen Juan Martin del Potro recover from the most alarming fall of the fortnight to beat David Ferrer, the Centre Court crowd never lost faith in their man's ability to pull off a miracle. In all the eight tournaments Murray has played at Wimbledon, it is hard to remember a more fervent reception than this.

His name was chanted time and again, most rousingly when he scored the final, crucial break with a piledriver of an inside-out forehand. Before the tournament, Murray had sent a polite request to the all-too decorous patrons of Wimbledon to give him an uplifting welcome.

He used a football analogy - the advantage enjoyed by the home team - to explain the value of support, and there were moments when the 15,000 fans could have been responding to a winner scored in the 89th minute, rather than a sweetly-struck serve. "When I went behind," Murray said, "the crowd definitely got right behind me and made a huge, huge difference. I love it when it's like that. It was extremely noisy. They were right into it pretty much every single point." Most pundits were predicting a Murray victory in three or four sets. But he has had trouble before with Spaniards in the latter stages of Wimbledon.

Rafael Nadal - another left-hander whose game is strikingly similar to Verdasco's - has knocked him out three times. In last year's quarter-final, the unheralded David Ferrer served for a two-set lead.

Verdasco looked the part, his hair Brylcreemed so neatly that he never had a lock out of place. And when he launched his cobra strike of a serve, he had the ball under equally precise control. "He really went for it," said Murray, "going for the lines and coming up with some huge serves at big moments."

A second-serve ace at 15-30 down, deep in the final set, revealed a heart as big as Frankel's. You would not have anticipated such agonising tension during the first half-dozen games. In those early stages, Murray was able to keep the ball on Verdasco's backhand most of the time, and avoid the giant, seal-clubbing forehand that would do so much damage later on.

But then, as Murray served to stay in the first set, Verdasco threw in two clean winners and a lucky net cord to move to set point. Murray double-faulted. The second set saw more nervy and erratic play, as Murray took a 3-1 lead only to be broken twice in return. At this stage, his back trouble was bothering him, just as it had against Mikhail Youzhny.

Except that while Youzhny had brought Murray sprinting forward with a series of deft touch volleys, Verdasco was pushing him back with the sheer weight of his groundstrokes. Murray was taking the sort of physical beating rarely seen in this most genteel of sports. "My level dropped after I went ahead," Murray said, "and I was rushing. I gave too many free points away. So I thought about what I was doing wrong and the best way to get myself back into the match.I changed tactics a little bit, was more patient and took a bit longer between points."

There we see the value of experience. As a man who had already come back from two-set deficits six times, he knew he was not finished yet. In every grand slam event where he has reached the final, he has stood on the precipice at one stage or another. Not that anyone watching on TV would have recognised the serene and lucid description offered above, as he sat in his chair at the change-overs and turned the BBC's airwaves blue with frustration.

Commentator Andrew Castle had to apologise at one point, as Murray snarled "What the ---- are you doing?" at himself. Still, calm or not, the pep-talk seemed to work. After offering up 12 juicy unforced errors in that alarming second set, Murray barely threw Verdasco a scrap of cold leftovers for the remainder of the match.

Admittedly, this meant reducing his own level of ambition, and slipping back into his old habit of scavenging points from the back of the court. But at least he has that option. It is Murray's variety, his plethora of different settings, that make him so difficult to beat. How will this marathon affect him? "Providing I'm able to do the right things to recover properly, then you can feel decent the next day," he said.

And, as five-set matches go, this was relatively economical at 3hrs?27min. Of course there will be a few weary muscles as he goes into tomorrow's semi-final against the maverick Pole Jerzy Janowicz. But Murray has dodged a bullet here. As any champion will tell you, staging a comeback in a match you should really have lost can be a very freeing experience.