As a Briton who has been lucky enough to follow two decades of National Lottery-funded success featuring World Cup wins, Olympic domination and even two victories in that most alien of concepts, the Tour de France, it is easy to forget how difficult it is to do this.

Last week, I listened in awe to radio commentary on a dodgy Wi-Fi connection as Britain’s Heather Watson closed in on scaling the greatest summit in tennis, a Wimbledon triumph from a set down over world number one Serena Williams. The Channel Islander had reacted with almost teenage giddiness to the prospect of playing her idol for the first time, but roared on by a fanatical home crowd, she had raised her level three notches, and then some more.

With huge serves, bold groundstrokes and an array of impulsive winners, she was preventing Williams from settling into the rhythm which is usually so unmatchable. And despite a final set fightback from the American, Watson raised her level to break again and was poised just two points from victory.

Cue the return of reality and Watson falling agonisingly short. It took a combination of Serena’s willpower as she simply refused to succumb, together with Watson’s realisation of just what she was on the cusp of. Suddenly, the serves and groundstrokes stopped flowing so freely from the underdog’s racket as she was dragged down into a sizable club of Wimbledon near-misses.

In Paris watching the Diamond League athletics meeting the following day, I saw an even more brutal and literal example of failure within sight of the finishing line in the men’s 3,000 metres steeplechase. As the field set off with a suicidal 61 second first lap, hanging on to the back of the mass of Nike-vested Kenyan stars was a loping, long-hared American, Evan Jager.

As the field began to slow he held his position, growing in confidence as more established rivals fell by the wayside. He cleared the final water jump with all the ease of a seasoned race-winner and sprinted for home as the gap grew with every stride, closing in on a victory of huge significance for US distance-running following a torrid month of doping allegations.

Cue disaster, as he stumbled over the final hurdle and fell onto all fours, enabling Kenya’s Jairus Birech to come charging past with the slightly sheepish look of a man who knew he had won a race he did not really deserve to.

Jager got up to stagger home in a still-impressive American Record time of 8min 00.45sec, but he had faltered with a race-win and a sub-eight minute clocking at his mercy.

A lot is written in sport about “choking”, of essentially failing to perform due to the pressure of a situation. Yet neither Watson nor Jager had really choked. They had just failed to quite sustain the brilliance they had shown beforehand, and in top-level sport that alone can prove fatal.

To cite a third example, and another from Wimbledon. Jamaican-born German Dustin Brown produced the win of the first week by ousting two-time champion Rafael Nadal in four mighty sets. On match-point in the penultimate game he had choked, leaving the easiest of mid-court balls at the net before turning to watch it arc and land inside the baseline. Yet after losing that game he had put this out of his mind, dusting himself down before coming out and serving the match out with nerves of steel.

To do that, to win after such a missed opportunity against a player of Nadal’s stature, cannot be underestimated, even if the Spaniard was well below his best and Brown’s natural game seemed tailor-made to overcome him.

Even the very best struggle to overcome every challenge. Novak Djokovic for example, has never won the French Open, while Lionel Messi is still yet to win a major international football trophy. However good they are, they still sometimes succumb to the same blemishes that hindered Watson and Jager.

Winners in sport come in many forms. In rising golfing star Jordan Spieth we have someone with all the innocence and vigour of youth. The 21-year-old has never really experienced failure so why would he feel pressure?

Then there is Formula One world champion Lewis Hamilton, who won his home Grand Prix in Silverstone yesterday after pulling off an audacious pit-stop gamble to switch to wet tires at the first sign of rain. The Briton has experienced plenty of failure yet won by using his race-craft, and backing his instinct, team-support and ability to get the job done.

And while Messi’s Argentina fell short in the Copa América final, Chilean match-winner Alexis Sánchez showed remarkable composure under immense pressure to nonchalantly chip home the winning penalty. He is one of those rare breed of athletes who gives the impression of treating every game as if it was a kick-a-bout in the local park. But, as with someone like Usain Bolt, that coolness belies a tough sportsman who blends natural talent with willpower and relentless work ethic.

My two most abiding all-time sporting memories concern individuals who exhibited two vastly different facets of winning.

The first was cricketer Kevin Pietersen a decade ago to win England what was then a first Ashes cricket series over Australia for 18 years. His team had performed brilliantly over five tests but, requiring to bat out the final day to secure a series-winning draw, they were floundering with five wickets down and facing some of the greatest bowlers in the history of the game.

Cue Pietersen, and, after surviving by the skin of his teeth until lunch he opted for attack as the best form of defence and hit a majestic 158, one of the best innings anyone has ever seen.

It was his first year of international cricket, and the debutant blended the innocence of a Spieth with the calmness of a Sánchez.

The second example came two years earlier in 2003 and concerns England rugby union fly half Jonny Wilkinson. In extra-time of the World Cup Final on enemy-turf against Australia in Sydney, his team mates engineered the perfect drop goal play before he dispatched the ball magnificently through the posts with his wrong foot to secure the winning three points.

The ultimate perfectionist, Wilkinson, like Hamilton, backed his ability honed over years and years of practice to perform when it mattered most. It is often forgotten that he had missed a similar chance earlier in the match, but like all great winners he performed when pressure was highest.

So there is the finest of lines between success and failure in sport, but the trick of a great athlete, a champion, is to somehow raise one’s level rather than falter when the stakes are highest. This is not easy and unlike everything else cannot be coached, but achieving this, and getting over the finishing line, remains the great aim for any young professional striving to join the greats.