There are times when Novak Djokovic really shouldn’t be allowed on court; it’s just not fair. There he is with his 19 Grand Slam titles and his record for the most weeks spent at the top of the rankings and he is shoved out on court against a normal fella with nothing more to protect him than a racket and a clean pair of shorts.

Marton Fucsovics, though, is no normal fella – he is the 48th best player on the planet and he is the self-proclaimed fittest man on tour. But he was still cut down to size by the defending champion 6-3, 6-4, 6-4 in two hours and 17 minutes. Djokovic was through to his 10th Wimbledon semi-final and his 41st Grand Slam semi-final overall. It’s not fair, Novak – off you go and play with the bigger boys.

“I am aware of certain stats,” he said, looking a little bashful, “and obviously I love this sport with all my heart and body and soul; I’ve been devoted to this sport since I was four. Sometimes things do look surreal for me but I try to live in the moment, don’t take anything for granted, be grateful for every opportunity I have on the court and, obviously going for history is a huge inspiration for me and, you know, let’s keep it going.

“I think it was a solid performance. I started off extremely well, I didn’t do too many things wrong in my game in the first six games of the match. I managed to close it out at 5-3. I guess one break of serve in the second and third set was enough to clinch the victory today.” 

There is no delicate way to put this (and we like to be polite) so we will just have to be blunt: no one was giving Fucsovics a meringue in a mangle’s chance on Wednesday. No way. Not going to happen. Don’t be daft. He’s playing Djokovic, for pity’s sake. 

Ah, yes: Djokovic. The all-conquering world No.1; the champion of Australia and Roland-Garros and the man who has made it his mission to complete the Grand Slam proper. The Golden Slam, even (he has his eyes set on the Olympic gold medal, too). And the man who had beaten Fucsovics in their two previous meetings. Yes, him. 

But if the Hungarian was looking for a bit of encouragement and inspiration, he could have thought of Andrey Rublev. From Roland-Garros last year to the Miami Open at the end of March, he lost to Rublev four times. In Dubai, after the third defeat, he told the Russian “I hope I don’t play you anymore this year!”. He did not get his wish. 

They locked horns again on Manic Monday but this time, Fucsovics got his revenge: he won in five sets. Perseverance, a much better feeling for the grass and a willingness to take his chances had finally brought its reward. If he could beat Rublev after all those disappointments then maybe he could do the same to Djokovic. The pundits were not convinced. 

Fucsovics is what might be known in football parlance as “a big unit”. Standing 6ft 2ins, he weighs 181lbs – and every ounce of it is muscle. He looks not so much ripped as quarried. Although when someone pointed this out to him the other day, he looked slightly hurt. 

“I wasn't born like this,” he said (a fact that, when it became apparent 29 years ago, must have come a huge relief to his mother). “I was working every day to get this physiques.” 

Not that muscle power makes much difference against Djokovic. The No.1 is the master of turning defence into attack, of soaking up pace and using it to his advantage and of taking any serve and dismantling it as easily as if he were dismantling one of his son’s Lego toys. 

As for physiques – Djokovic’s is remarkable. He is 11lbs lighter than the Hungarian and about 100 times more flexible. Then again, he is about 100 times more flexible than a rubber band. To watch Djokovic warm up on the practice courts is to see a contortionist in full flow; the things he can do with his body makes the eyes water (although the ability to scratch his right ear with one of his left toes may be of limited use to him in later life). 

This flexibility proved invaluable in the first set as he took a couple of tumbles. For the first 20 minutes, they were the only messy moments as the defending champion skipped to a 5-0 lead. At the other end of the court, Fucsovics looked tentative and tight – at this rate, he was on his way to an absolute sploshing. 

And then Fucsovics held serve. After 24 minutes, he was finally on the scoreboard and the crowd was cheering. Suddenly the backhand looked crisper, the forehand had more bite; Hungary’s finest was beginning to relax and enjoy himself. 

He was having an absolute blast when Djokovic then played the sloppiest service game he has produced in many a match in SW19. It was now 5-2. Then 5-3: Fucsovics was making a match of it. He couldn’t turn the set around but it did take Djokovic six set points and 42 minutes to win it. Now it was game on. 

As we got to the meat of the second set (plant-based alternatives are available), Fucsovics was serving first and keeping his nose in front. Now he was showing off his grass court credentials – he won the junior title here 11 years ago – and Djokovic was having to work. Yet Djokovic’s grass court credentials, he with his five Wimbledon titles, are vastly superior to those of anyone else on tour (Roger Federer aside, obviously) and so it was only a matter of time before he proved the point. 

A couple of forehand errors cost Fucsovics dear as the defending champion broke serve and then, after 90 minutes of effort, Djokovic took the second set and roared at his support team. His exceedingly flexible toes were touching the doorstep of the semi-finals. 

After a couple of games to shake the disappointment of that set from his mind, Fucsovics rolled up his sleeves and got back to work in the third; he was not ready to give up the fight. Alas, by then he was already a break down – the damage had been done in the opening game. And this time it was terminal.

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