It can't be easy being John Isner these days. For one thing, he's no longer identified as "6-foot-9 John Isner" or "former Georgia Bulldog John Isner." His epic first-round clash at Wimbledon with Nicolas Mahut about a month ago has left him with a name so long it rivals that of some Austro-Hungarian blueblood or a character in American Indian folklore.

The fresh-faced 25-year-old is now officially identified in any first reference with a qualifying phrase: "John Isner, who gained fame by winning the longest match in Wimbledon history, a three-day, 183-game match …" You read the poor kid's name now and you have to stop halfway through to take a breath.

What's funny about the situation is that Isner has backed up this hard-earned accolade by becoming a guy who just doesn't go the easy route -- not for him that 7-6, 6-4 win, or even that 6-7, 4-6 loss. If a typical John Isner tennis match were a book, it would be Leo Tolstoy's "War and Peace." If it were a pop song, it would be Iron Butterfly's "In-a-Gadda-Da-Vida."

We might have seen all this coming when Isner first popped onto our radar in Washington D.C. in 2007. There, he accomplished an absurd record: five straight match wins in third-set tiebreakers, before he lost to Andy Roddick in the final.

Isner has worked that territory ever since, and he was at it again Sunday in Atlanta. This time, it didn't work out so well, as he lost to his resurgent countryman, Mardy Fish. But the final score had "Isner match" written all over it: 6-4, 4-6, 6-7 (4). The struggle lasted 2 hours, 45 minutes, and the on-court temperature hovered near 150 degrees Fahrenheit all the while.

The match featured what we can now identify as Isner's basic modus operandi. His strategy in most matches is a steady combination of aerial bombardment accompanied by tedious trench warfare: Give an inch, take an inch. Why should Isner be in some big rush to break serve, when he knows his own serve won't be broken unless he helps his opponent get the job done by doing something silly?

Tiebreakers smell like money to this kid; he can't resist the aroma. But his penchant for living dangerously has also revealed something unexpected about his personality as he's blasted his way into the top 20 (he's presently No. 19). He's proved many times over that beneath his soft-spoken manner and baby face lie vast reservoirs of stamina, tenacity and resolve.

OK, so Isner has lost three of the four finals in which he's appeared this year. That bugs him. So does the distraction posed by that borderline-surreal record-breaking match at Wimbledon, which he's taken to describing in less-than-reverent terms. "You want to win this tournament," Isner said after his loss to Fish. "But it was really pivotal that I was able to get four matches under my belt. I had other things I was doing [lately] because of that stupid Wimbledon match I played."

Well, the Mahut match is ancient stupid history. But it also looks more and more like an emblematic -- rather than merely freakish -- episode. So get used to Isner's storkish frame, that monster serve and those epic matches littered with tiebreakers. But let's simplify his name to one that still says it all -- Long John Isner.