"Has he maimed him?" That thought must have entered a billion minds when Rafael Nadal began to dismantle Roger Federer's game in the Wimbledon final on Sunday. When it was two sets to love for the Spaniard, the thought seemed to crystallise into belief. He seemed a champ with a secret sorrow -- Federer was listless, he was distracted, he was not on the ball. Had he left the fire burning and the garden untended at his chalet somewhere in the Swiss Alps? Could it be that he could hear the din of the men chasing him for the kill?