LONDON -- The night before, he was all over BBC television. Actually two of him -- the inner one and the outer, the bad one and the good, the rhythmic, missiles-serving monster and the tormented, nerves-boggled maniac, the young, carefree Croatian and the old, washed-up world citizen. The network actually tricked up the picture, having both of his alter egos talk, face to face, about each other. But on Friday afternoon in the crucible of Wimbledon's Centre Court -- where he had lost the biggest tennis title in the universe three different times -- it was only one, the one-and-only Goran Ivanisevic, who came all the way back.

Quickly and corrosively swatting his left-handed deliveries from somewhere above the Tower Bridge, Ivanisevic was the same enchanting character who ripped a record 206 aces across the greensward of this tournament in 1992 before losing the final to Andre Agassi; the same guy who scared Pete Sampras silly in all those tiebreaks and finals in '94 and '98; the same delightful quote-machine who's as funny off court as he is dangerous on it. The occasion this time was a rain (surprise)-delayed, third round encounter. The opponent was 18-year-old Andy Roddick, Wimby's It Kid, who was in the process of banging down 20 aces and a bunch of superlative stuff himself. But Stormin' Goran, two months short of his 30th birthday -- who'd won exactly one Grand Slam match in the past two years and whose ranking had fallen to No. 125 -- took Roddick apart.

Folded him: When the teen-ager brain-froze and tried a ridiculous drop shot in the first set tiebreaker, The I Man pounced on the point and then rifled a 112 mph second serve ace to finish it. "(Roddick) is gonna be a great player," Goran said. "But he gives you some strange points ... drop shot, middle of the service line ... I said 'thank you.'" Spindled him: Stringing six service games running at love to the end of the second set, Ivanisevic surrendered only one point to Roddick on his own deliveries, and that one a double fault. "Sure. (I was) too good. He was just walking ... left ... right," And, of course, mutilated him: After Roddick rallied and finally broke through to win the third set, Ivanisevic reverted to, he said, "(being) perfect. No complaining. No throwing racquets. But then I have to make my life little bit tougher."

That would be the fourth set denouement when on two match points Goran double faulted and then whaled a backhand practically to the strawberry tents. At 5-3, break point against him, though, Ivanisevic paused and, as cool and composed as the tour's schizoid comedy king can be, ack-ack-acked a triad of aces -- up the T on the chalk, flat past Roddick, then into the corner. Those were aces number 39, 40 and 41 in Goran's 7-6 (5), 7-5, 3-6, 6-3 victory -- and he ripped off his shirt, threw it into the crowd, pounded his chest and screamed to the heavens for good measure.

"This was just a lesson," Roddick said later, "on how to serve and how to play on grass. The guy made my serve look like a schmuck serve. I don't know what else." Well, what of Roddick's coach, Tarik Benhabiles, saying the key to the match was his charge's lack of concentration?

"The key to the match might have been his serving," laughed the loser. "Maybe I should have concentrated harder on watching the balls go by me."

In truth, the game was what seemed to have passed Ivanisevic by recently before he suddenly parachuted (well, was wild-carded) into London SW 19, and hurled 35 aces at former World No. 1 Carlos Moya in the previous round. His 41 bombs on Friday gave him another Wimbledon record -- 76 in consecutive matches -- and was only the fifth time a player has struck 40-plus in one match here. If you guessed Goran has three of those, not to mention the record (46, against Magnus Norman in Wimby's second round in 1997), you win an all-expenses paid opportunity to split to Split, Ivanisevic's beloved coastal hometown in Croatia.

A day following the extradition of Slobodan Milosevic, the Serbian architect of the Balkan wars that destroyed his homeland of Yugoslavia, Ivanisevic was doubly joyous. "Mr. Milosevic in (The) Hague. Is perfect," Goran said. "Is gonna be his home for the rest of his life."

As for Ivanisevic's tennis life, it seemed to be concluded in 2000 when he lost in the first rounds of the French, Wimbledon and U.S. Opens and finished the year going zero for six in ATP tour events. This season he's suffered first round defeats to the likes of Julien Boutter (no relation to Julienne Ham), Albert Montanes (no relation to Joe or Tony Montana) and Cristiano Caratti (no relation to Jennifer Capriati) -- although "when I play bad," Ivansevic acknowledged, "then I cannot even beat some womans on the tour." He had sunk so low in the rankings he had to try to qualify for the Australian Open. He didn't, losing to Petr Luxa, who might as well have been Peter Pan. Goran didn't even bother trying to qualify for the French.

"But grass is different," Ivanisevic explained the other day. "Is strange surface. Doesn't bounce. Bounce. More you play, worse you play. You know? I play Queen's, which is very nice court. Go to Rosmalen (in Holland), which are terrible courts. Come here, another perfect court. After two years of not great tennis, you know, I just come here and try to play well. Doesn't matter who I play; it matters only how I play. When I play good, then I think I can beat anybody here."

Sometimes, that may require beating himself, a chaotic Yugo who a few years ago ordered up a tattoo on the back side of his right shoulder -- there for all to see when he tore off his shirt on Friday -- defining his schizophrenic tendencies: a shark and roses draped over a cross. "A cross is a cross," he says. "A rose, which means love. And a shark, which is a mean, mean animal. All together, it is me." Well, of course. How odd can it be when somebody from Split presents such a split personality?

"Actually, they're both good," Ivanisevic said on the eve of his meeting with Roddick, referring to his two selves. "They're both thinking the same way. They both in London, which is very important because when one is and the other is, I don't know, somewhere else, is not good.

"I decided just to start, they can travel together, you know," he continued. "So they traveling together now. They being good friends, which is good because then I can lose my concentration a little bit, because that's me, but not lose the match."

The I Man, significantly, didn't lose the match in that last game when he was blowing those match points. "They both were nervous," said Goran of the Gorans. "I said 'Guys... guys.' One has to be under control, but they both were ... going ... a little bit. One was rushing, the other one was rushing even more. Then the third one came and said: 'Guys, relax. It's a lovely court. Just calm down.'"

A third Goran?

"He's the emergency one. Emergency 911 call," Ivanisevic said. "And he came on deuce. Calm down. Two aces. Thank you. He is like the brain man. He's controlling."

On Friday, all the Gorans controlled the runaway express that young Roddick is riding to stardom and made him feel, in his own words, "helpless. It's tough. I mean, when you don't feel like you even have a chance in return games ... it's not fun."

Only for Andy.

Because The I Man beat the It Kid and looks like he may have a ton of mileage left in him -- Ivanisevic plays Greg Rusedski next Monday, whom he has pigeoned eight straight times -- the rest of the Wimbledon fortnight might turn out to be a whole lot of fun.

Curry Kirkpatrick is covering Wimbledon for ESPN The Magazine, E-mail him at curry.kirkpatrick@espnmag.com.