The week before Wimbledon this year, I popped the official DVD of the 1980 All England final—perhaps you’ve heard of it, Bjorn Borg vs. John McEnroe?—into my computer. I’d just seen Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal play the French Open final and was anticipating a rematch in London, and I wanted to do a little compare and contrast. I had also never seen Borg-Mac 1980. I was a rabid Borg fan as a kid, but for some reason I had gone to a Little League practice the morning of that match. My only memory of it is the awe in my dad’s voice as he described it while driving me home. For some reason, I don’t remember being all that upset that I’d missed it, even though I’d sat transfixed the year before as Borg held off Roscoe Tanner in another five-set final.
So here was my chance after all these years, and it couldn’t have been more convenient. Borg, Mac, their headbands, and their short shorts appeared in the corner of my computer screen; I could check in on it as I worked. (The fact that my boss came by to see some of it with me is a definite perk of working at a tennis magazine.) Now that Federer and Nadal have given the world their own version of Borg-Mac, it seems like as good a time as any to look back at what I sometimes think of as the Match That Ruined Tennis. The sport has spent 27 years trying to recreate it, and only this Sunday did we get something even remotely comparable. It’s a lot to live up to. Was it really that special? How does it measure up to Fed-Nadal 2007? I’ll transcribe the notes I took as the match progressed.
Locker room before match: Borg and McEnore are the only guys in there—that must be a weird feeling after having the other players around for two weeks. Literally, in tennis the more you win the lonelier you get. They carefully avoid even a hint of eye contact even as they walk onto the court. This year I noticed Fed and Nadal did the same thing, except for the moment when Nadal offered to let Federer walk out first and Federer shook his head. Still, that’s more than Borg and Mac give each other. Even before he steps out there, Borg seems utterly detached and deep in some other place.
McEnroe’s clothes: These were the days of his red, white, and blue shoulder stripes. Thinking back to 1980, I remember seeing McEnroe’s ascendance and enthusiastic pro-American attitude as part of the move toward Reaganism (he’d be elected at the end of the year). McEnroe had the rat’s nest of hair and a punk’s reputation, but he was part of the general cultural trend as the 80s began away from the counterculture that had dominated the 70s. This was a patriotic, Davis Cup-playing, suburban kid at heart. I think when he won beat Borg the next year, on July 4th, he came over to Bud Collins and said Happy Birthday, America.
Borg’s clothes: This was his apogee—green Fila pinstripes, green-and-gold wristbands, Diadoras, black-and-orange Donnay, fingers covered in little bandages. He never looked more Borg. His physique would fit in well today; he must have been intimidating strictly as an athlete back then.
The broadcasters: This is the BBC tape, I believe of John Barrett and Dan Maskell (I know you know his deep, murky voice). The first word either speaks is at 40-15, and I think it’s just to say the score. It’s perfect.
Changeover: In those days, the two players would get water out of the same machine behind the umpire’s chair. It’s funny to see McEnroe and Borg wait, almost in line, for each other to get their drinks.
Crowd: The camera keeps finding a group of strange characters wearing Edwardian jackets, smoking cigars, and rooting loudly for Johnny Mac. There was a more rambunctious atmosphere in Centre Court than there is today.
Borg’s behavior: The announcers mention more than once that Borg is the ultimate gentleman and an exemplar of how tennis players should behave. This was obviously the way the world thought of him at the time. Do we still see his absolute silence and reserve that way? I feel like now we see it as a little odd and repressed, more about mystique than behaving like a gentleman—would we really school young players now to be as utterly impassive as Borg? Maybe I say that because while watching this, I know that in another 14 months or so he loses to McEnroe at the Open, pretty much snaps, and leaves the sport forever.
Between points: McEnroe was Nadal-like in the amount of time he took. He was slow getting the balls, then in his service motion he rocked back and forth for an extended period before tossing the ball. One memorable and oft-repeated camera shot came from directly behind McEnroe when he was serving. His upper body would rock left and right as he stood sideways to the baseline, while Borg did the same as he waited to return, stepping back and forth on each foot as he went into his ready position—lots of nervous energy out there. But all that motion made McEnroe’s serve hard to read, like the herky-jerky motion of a baseball pitcher. Perhaps that accounts for the number of missed returns from Borg, despite the mediocre pace McEnroe was generating.
Borg trying to play Mac: The Swede is baffled by McEnroe in the same way that Federer often is by Nadal. It doesn’t look like Borg knows how to play this guy with the corkscrew lefty serve. The ball is always leaving his strike zone, and Borg is always trying to catch up with it, but it’s hard with that two-handed backhand.
Early play: I’m amazed by the amount of times Borg comes in. He seems to consider it a race to the net; whoever is stuck at the baseline is doomed to try to deal with the awful bounces on this worn-down Centre Court. But because Borg is at the net, where he's only semi-comfortable, he doesn’t look like he’s playing his best tennis. Still, he’s more adept at winning points with volleys than he’s given credit for today, though his overhead was startlingly weak. He has trouble getting them past McEnroe, even on grass.
Borg’s serve: This was truly a thing of beauty, as relaxed as Federer’s but somehow even simpler. The story I’ve heard is that in 1976 Borg’s coach, Lennart Bergelin, made a very slight shift to Borg’s foot position, Borg worked hard at it for a couple weeks before Wimbledon that year, and then won the tournament for the first time, in part because his serve had improved so much.
As this match goes on, it’s clear Borg won it because of his serve. He was lights out on it that day, while the rest of his game was a little inconsistent. Grass really wasn’t his surface, and despite his stone face, he really did appear nervous much of the time. In the final set, I believe he won 26 of 28 points on his serve. In fact, the match as a whole shows that the serve has not become more important through the years; it was far and away the most crucial element of this match for both players. Neither guy could handle the other’s delivery.
Returns: These have become much more aggressive over the years. Neither Borg nor Mac took theirs early; Borg stood way behind the baseline and took a full swing. I’m surprised by the amount of times both guys shank seemingly makeable returns. The bounces on the grass must have had something to do with that.
Borg like Federer: McEnroe pretty much controls the first two sets but only comes away with one of them. At the very end of the second, Borg, who has been sluggish, comes to life, breaks serve for the first time, and sneaks out the set 7-5. The crowd also comes to life—it’s a match now; the sleeping giant has stirred. The whole thing plays out much like Federer’s 2004 final against Roddick, where he grabbed the second set with a couple surprise winners.
McEnroe like Nadal: Just like Rafa this year, McEnroe faltered when he could have taken a commanding lead—he still didn’t quite believe he could win. Serving at 5-6, 15-0 in the second, McEnroe flubs an ill-advised drop volley. Maskell wonders whether this could cost him the set. He’s exactly right, as Borg rips a passing-shot winner and goes on to win the game.
Linesman: They didn’t bend down to see the lines better; they sat in chairs in blue suits with their legs crossed. I thought they might start smoking.
McEnroe's groundstrokes: They were longer than what I remember at this point. At his peak, he shortened them into little no-backswing flicks, but here they were full strokes and pretty inconsistent. As for his touch, he definitely had it, but mostly he hit straightforward volleys; he showed his skills off with a number of topspin lob winners, the same ones that would send Borg out of the U.S. Open and out of the game a year later.
Fourth set: The sun comes out at this point; it looks like a different day entirely. The early part of the match had been played in a sort of nervous gloom. Now it appears that Borg is going to win and all is right with the world. In fact, Borg very nearly wins much earlier than he eventually will. He serves for the title at 5-4 and goes up 40-15. His first serve wide appears to be in and McEnroe misses the return. But the line judge makes a late out call. The crowd is already screaming, but Borg just walks back to serve and eventually gets broken. If the linesman doesn’t make that call, this match is barely remembered today. (I’m certainly not writing this post.)
The tiebreaker: This is when the great shots start coming, terrific running passing shots and stab volleys at absolutely crucial times. No Wimbledon men’s final had been decided in a tiebreaker (the breaker had only been introduced at the tournament a few years earlier) and there does seem to be an almost novel tension to the whole thing—as if everyone is asking, “Can Wimbledon really be won like this?” For the record, the famous shot of McEnroe flat on the ground came at 8-8, after he lost a set point. McEnroe also saved a championship point with a net-cord winner—no apology given or expected at the time. (Imagine if that happened today?) After dumping the final volley in the net to lose the set, Borg flashed a look at his box for the only time all match; it’s barely perceptible and lasts about a nanosecond, but you can feel the emotion coming from him.
Borg questioning call: He just looked up at the chair umpire for a second, wordless, like a mute.
Fifth set: The play is very high now and the service games go quickly until Borg goes up 7-6. Then it ends just as quickly and severely, with Borg hitting two backhand pass winners and suddenly dropping to his knees. The crowd is on its feet in that I-can’t-help-it-I-have-to-stand way that’s usually reserved for team sports.
Borg drops to his knees in spontaneous emotion—really, has there ever been, in any sport, a cooler victory celebration than this? it’s raw emotion in a contained and elegant form—but then he’s back in total control of himself a second later. He walks to the net looking down at the ground, walks around the net post, sits down, and flashes just a bare smile to the camera. It looks like he says one word, but I don’t know what it is (somewhere I’ve heard that it’s “incredible” in Swedish).
Overall, the level of play was far more primitive than Federer vs. Nadal—points were quick and almost perfunctory, up and back rather side to side, quick and clipped rather than long and loopy. But watching this I get the feeling that it was essential that new racquet technology come along soon. These guys were changing the game—Borg with his topspin, McEnroe with his all-court touch—but they didn’t quite have the tools to do all they could with their skills.
Whatever deficiencies it seems to have today, Borg-McEnroe makes up for in theater, and the drama comes across 27 years later. These guys were perfect adversaries and iconic personalities; they made tennis matter more than it ever has before or since. Will we look at Federer and Nadal the same way when we watch their Wimbledon DVD in 2034? I’m going to say yes.
PS: I'm going to be offline next week—at the beach!—and the blog will be offline as well, starting Monday. The following week, I'm hoping to bring it back with a new name (it's no longer a "wrap" really) and hopefully a slightly different format (more, shorter items, not all about tennis, is the idea; we'll see if it works).
Any suggestions for the name? Right now I'm thinking "Concrete Elbow." Can you beat that?
