Letter From Australia: Australia's curious relationship with its best tennis player, Lleyton Hewitt, continued last week when Hewitt again returned from a two-set deficit to win in five sets, in this case over Argentina's Gastón Gaudio in the French Open at Roland Garros.

Hewitt has now won four matches on the international tennis circuit from two sets down. One of his victims in those games was the best player of recent decades, and arguably the best player in tennis history, Roger Federer, whom Hewitt overhauled in a Davis Cup match in 2003.

Hewitt has won 12 of his past 13 matches to go to five sets, a record unmatched on the international tour. With every come-from-behind victory, he renews the admiration for his mighty spirit, a spirit that has led even to comparisons with Ned Kelly, a totemic figure in Australian history.

Kelly, an Irish Catholic and therefore an outsider in early colonial life in Australia, was hanged in Melbourne in 1880 after a battle with authorities that was as much about politics as law and order.

Kelly's hatred for Australia's Protestant ruling class had led him to propose a breakaway republic in the north-east of the state of Victoria. While he failed to live long enough to have the chance to enact his plan, its sheer gumption is among the factors that have made him a hero to many and a figure of contempt for others.

Hewitt is like Kelly in the sense he relishes a fight and is divisive.

Nobody has a problem admiring Hewitt's tenacity. He's of medium height, about 180 centimetres, and built like a whippet, so he's less powerful than most of his rivals. He has a pop-gun serve and no ground strokes that invite superlatives. His main characteristic is his willingness to retrieve. Given the tepid temperament of most Australians on the international tennis circuit, it's a trait that separates him.

For all Hewitt's renowned grit, it's his lack of grace that defines him in the eyes of most. If Hewitt loses, he's as likely to blame the courts or officials as praise the performance of his opponent. When, in the 2001 US Open, he suggested the black American James Blake was favoured by a black linesman, it confirmed to many he was a twerp, a term that might translate loosely, though not so effectively, as brat.

In recent years, Hewitt has engaged in a debate with Tennis Australia officials over the surface used at Melbourne Park in the Australian Open since 1988, the Rebound Ace surface. Hewitt hates this surface because it's inconsistent and retains too much heat, which is a problem during Melbourne's periodic heatwaves. Most of all, Hewitt hates it because it lessens his chance of winning his home grand slam

Hewitt has argued long and hard, and occasionally bitterly, with Paul McNamee, an Australian tennis great who's now the popular head of the Australian Open tournament, that the surface should be changed. McNamee's refusal to yield to such parochialism led Hewitt to withdraw from a Davis Cup tie.

Last week, Hewitt expressed his approval when it was announced the Australian Open no longer would be played on Rebound Ace. In a decision that some have argued means the Australian Open will have little difference from the US Open, apart from geography and a preference among spectators for meat pies ahead of hot dogs, Australia's grand slam is to be played on a surface known as plexicushion.

This surface is reportedly more consistent and retains less heat; hopefully, fewer players will now threaten to self-combust. By Hewitt's reckoning, he will now have more chances of winning his home grand slam. He will certainly be under more pressure to do so.

Perhaps it's instructive that, in the week Hewitt again revealed his bloody-minded refusal to accept defeat, it was announced the Australian Open surface would be changed. Hewitt's grit and his displeasure with the Australian Open surface have long dominated Australian tennis news. The other big news story in Australian tennis last week put these stories in perspective.

The decision of Kim Clijsters, a Belgian who was once Hewitt's fiancée, to retire from the tennis circuit was given prominence in every newspaper in the country. During Clijsters's relationship with Hewitt, Australians were enamoured of her enough to call her "Our Kim". She was warm and gracious, and among the best players in the world. With Australian women's tennis in the doldrums, she gave Australians someone to support at the pointy end of the big tournaments.

Clijsters broke off her engagement with Hewitt reportedly when she realised she would be marrying not only Hewitt but also his somewhat overbearing family. She moved on with the same grace she's shown throughout her tennis career.

Hewitt was aggrieved, but landed on his feet when he met Bec Cartwright, an Australian "soapie" starlet (not a rare breed, it must be said). The couple are now married with a baby daughter, Mia.

Lleyton and Bec (they're big enough to be known entirely by their first names) now feature on the covers of Australian women's magazines more than is healthy. They're the ultimate celebrity couple.

Clijsters, meanwhile, last week announced her retirement with the same lack of fuss for which she was admired during her playing career.

For what it's worth, I love Hewitt's tenacity as a player and I accept his cussedness as part of a flawed but intriguing package. But I'm prepared to say I love Clijsters more. Unlike her former fiancé, she played as if she knew there was more to life than tennis. Like many Australians, I hope she shows the same balance in her life in retirement as she showed during her life as an international tennis player.