During Communist times there was a joke that Czechoslovakia had the largest cow in the world because its head was in Prague and it was milked in Moscow. And in tennis it had the tallest player in the world because Petr Korda's head was perpetually in the clouds while his feet were forever sinking in the quagmire.

Czechoslovakia has gone, and so have the jokes at the old Soviet Union's expense, but until yesterday Korda's name was still prone to the sly dig or ungenerous innuendo. He had, after all, a long record of underachievement.

So when he won the Australian Open, beating a dispirited Marcelo Rios of Chile 6-2, 6-2, 62 there was immeasurable relief and joy from Korda, and a slight feeling of guilt from those who, even at the last, suspected he might conjure up some totally unexpected way of losing.

But on this occasion the force was with him from the opening round. Korda, who was 30 years old on the tournament's first Friday, had announced this would probably be his final year in tennis. By saying so it seemed he shed every cloying weight from his shoulders and every self-doubt from his mind.

Lists are often compiled, during slack moments in the tennis or late nights at the bar, of those players who should, but never have, won a Grand Slam. Korda's name was usually one of the first mentioned.

Not any more. He arrived in Melbourne in splendid form and even when he was placed in the same half of the draw as Pete Sampras, the reigning champion and number one seed, there were many who believed he could repeat his victory over the American at the US Open last year.

So when Sampras fell to Slovakia's Karol Kucera, Korda's path to the final was clear. It appeared he could only beat himself. And this was the worry.

He duly defeated Kucera last Thursday, a day before Rios's semi-final victory over France's Nicholas Edcude. "It was the worst 48 hours of my life," said Korda yesterday. "I was so nervous I could not eat on Saturday." But by the morning of the match he had determined to be both positive and aggressive. "It was as if all the pieces of the mosaic came together."

Whatever Korda might have been thinking, his supporters were immediately put through the wringer in his opening service game. Two glorious passes on both forehand and backhand were followed by a wild smash (a good metre out), a forehand error, and a double fault. Rios had break point, and the Korda contingent could barely watch.

If only they could have tapped into his mind they would not of fretted in the least. "I was not all nervous. Okay, I missed a couple of shots but that was because of an unlucky bounce and me wanting to be positive."

But few over the years have ever been sure enough about the state of Korda's head to offer any conclusive view of his chances in any match.

What had been somewhat overlooked in the equation was that Rios himself, eight years younger than Korda, was also been prone to collapse in a heap at critical time. Korda had already played in one Grand Slam final, losing the French Open to Jim Courier in 1992, whereas prior to these championships Rios has never progressed beyond the quarterfinals of a Grand Slam.

Chile, a country which hangs down the west coast of South America like a twisted net chord, is long on geography but short on tennis history. Rios frequently speaks of his homeland as being thousands of miles from anywhere, so perhaps he feels at home in Australia which has similar hang-ups concerning its isolation.

The Chilean is not a readily likeable man, even to his countrymen. During the past 12 months, spurred by a large contract with Nike, he has attempted to be a little more civil. But he continues to alienate more than he befriends.

However he is an extremely gifted player who from the back of the court can conjure angles and release a depth of shot that can overwhelm all but the best. On this occasion this ability almost totally deserted him.

"I felt tired and mis-hit too many balls. I think your body relaxes a bit after a semi-final, and then you have to force it." As Rios forced, and missed, so his confidence dwindled. By the third set he had appeared to visibly shrink.

Korda believed the key was his serve. Indeed he only lost it once, while Rios was able to hold his serve only five times out of 12. "I knew I was a better fighter, and I knew he sometimes gives up," said Korda, who at the end sank to his knees in a position of prayer, rather as Bjorn Borg used to do.

Later came the scissor kicks, a cartwheel, and a rush into the crowd to embrace his wife, Regina, and to lift his daughter, Jessica. And later still he paid a moving tribute to his father, Petr - "the man who put tennis in my hands".

This morning Korda will wake up 615,000 Australian dollars richer and ranked number two behind Sampras. He will also wake up as a Grand Slam winner - at last a true reflection of his talents.