At the Wimbledon quarterfinals, among those present in the eight players’ boxes will be three familiar faces – of men who were once young warriors, battling each other on these very courts. Together, they were some of the best grass court players of their generation.
In 1988, the cool, blond Swede, Stefan Edberg, faced off in the Wimbledon final against the fiery red-head German, Boris Becker. Becker had won Wimbledon twice before, and was favoured to take his third title but, in a match that lasted two days and survived three rain delays, Edberg got the better of him. Their contrasting styles – the Swede’s classic serve and volley game against the German’s nuclear serve and athleticism – helped establish their rivalry at Wimbledon. They went on to play three consecutive finals, winning the title in alternating years.
Off the court too, their lives proved suitably contradictory. While Edberg married his long time girlfriend Annette Olsen and lived a modest, low-key life, choosing to travel frequently on the London Tube, Becker acquired the affectionate nickname Bonking Boris, and was known for dating models, for posing nude (along with wife Barbara Feltus,) on the cover of Stern magazine, and for his flamboyant lifestyle.
Today, when I look back on how I became a serious follower of tennis, I can honestly say that it all really began with a schoolgirl crush on the handsome Swede – who was said to be so gracious and sporting that the tour’s sportsmanship award was named after him – and those Edberg-Becker matches on the green grass at Wimbledon.
Their generation of Wimbledon champions included Germany’s Michael Stich, the great Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, and the tall and lanky Croatian, Goran Ivanišević. Ivanišević lost in three Wimbledon finals first and seemed destined to be forever the bridesmaid. Ivanišević’s matches rarely lacked entertainment, both due to his erratic play and his volatile personality, and his propensity to choke during big moments often made him a loveable underdog. Which is why it seemed like poetic justice when, in 2001, ranked number 125, he beat Australia’s Pat Rafter to become the lowest ranked player and only wildcard entrant to win Wimbledon.
Between them, Edberg, Becker, and Ivanišević claimed six Wimbledon men’s singles titles and eight runner up finishes at Wimbledon before they left the game and the public eye. We may have caught occasional glimpses of them as they received honours or attended matches, but our attention had shifted, rightly, to those who now competed in their place.
Teaching today’s stars
The three men are back. Over the past couple of years, fans may have grown accustomed to seeing them – along with Ivan Lendl and Michael Chang – in players’ boxes, performing in the new roles as coach. But nowhere is this more poignant perhaps than here at the All England Club, where they had their sweetest and most memorable wins.
Edberg will sit in Federer’s box with his hair neatly combed, restrained and polite, clapping occasionally when his ward, himself a veteran now, hits an exceptional shot.
Becker will sit in Djokovic’s box, with his hair brushed back, his cheeks flushed and a little swollen, possibly with beer, egging on his charge with a lot more passion.
Facing Becker off yet again will be Ivanisevic, who made his Wimbledon debut before Cilic was born. He will be in the younger Croat’s box, still tall but no longer scrawny, sporting a goatee, while his darting eyes watch every move.
Interestingly, the three former players were hired to coach the current ones at around the same time.
Cilic was twelve when Ivanišević won Wimbledon. He idolised Goran and ended up hiring him as his coach in the middle of 2013, after he was suspended for a banned stimulant, which the player said he had taken inadvertently through glucose tablets purchased at a pharmacy. The nine-month ban was eventually reduced to four, and it was up to Ivanišević to motivate the dejected Cilic and get the former top-10 player back on track. Last year, under Goran’s mentorship, Cilic beat Federer in the semifinals of the US open, and went on to take the title.
The fact that of all the former champions in the world Federer should pick Edberg as his part-time coach (Edberg is usually only present at the Grand Slams, while Federer’s regular coach is Severin Luethi) in early 2014 perhaps seemed inevitable to many of us who have seen them both play over the years. The two epitomise a kind of classic elegance and unruffled calm on the court. They are almost too cool and too graceful to watch. Their reactions during matches are understated like their personalities. Since the partnership began, Federer has taken to serving and volleying more, especially on grass, a reminder of the good old days.
And then there’s the reigning world number one, Djokovic, coached by the equally expressive Becker, both of them usually charged up during matches, pumping their fists and shouting on key points. After losing the 2013 Wimbledon final to Andy Murray and the US Open final as well as the number one ranking to Rafa Nadal, Djokovic hired Becker as his head coach in December that year, hoping to resume his position at the top. Last year he was back to his winning ways at Wimbledon, where we had the delightful experience of seeing Becker pitted against Edberg in the players’ boxes. This year, we may well have a repeat but first Becker has to contend with his other old rival in the quarters.
Lessons from the masters
Obviously this generation of players thinks it has a lot to learn from their predecessors. Most likely, at this stage of their careers, it’s not basic skills but strategy. Federer has admitted that initially when they got together, they had discussed how to play his nemesis Nadal among other things. The former champions bring their experience and insight to the table. As far as the players are concerned, seeing in their corners during intense moments the same idols they once looked up to as kids must surely add some extra inspiration.
But as far we, the fans, are concerned, what they add to the matches is that extra bit of glamour. I find myself as interested in Edberg or Ivanišević’s reaction after a big point as anything else on the court. Besides, who can resist a slice of nostalgia served up with the tennis ball? A glimpse of those old foes offers a glimpse of our younger selves, of the posters on our bedroom walls when we were growing up, of a time that began as far back as the pre-cable era when Doordarshan broadcast grainy images of tennis a few times a year, a time when even doubles victories seemed unattainable for Indians.
A couple of years ago, when Andy Murray won the singles title defeating Djokovic, I found myself celebrating not for him but for his then coach Ivan Lendl who finally allowed himself a smile on that court where he had been thwarted so often. Surely, that moment for Lendl transcended the sheer pleasure of coaching someone to victory – a moment of vindication.
Lendl won’t be around at the quarter-finals, but, perhaps fittingly, among the coaches present will be the three former champions. While tennis fans will cheer for their favourite players to win and move on, some of us should be forgiven for actually cheering for their coaches, the original favourites, the ones who introduced us to Wimbledon.
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In 1988, the cool, blond Swede, Stefan Edberg, faced off in the Wimbledon final against the fiery red-head German, Boris Becker. Becker had won Wimbledon twice before, and was favoured to take his third title but, in a match that lasted two days and survived three rain delays, Edberg got the better of him. Their contrasting styles – the Swede’s classic serve and volley game against the German’s nuclear serve and athleticism – helped establish their rivalry at Wimbledon. They went on to play three consecutive finals, winning the title in alternating years.
Off the court too, their lives proved suitably contradictory. While Edberg married his long time girlfriend Annette Olsen and lived a modest, low-key life, choosing to travel frequently on the London Tube, Becker acquired the affectionate nickname Bonking Boris, and was known for dating models, for posing nude (along with wife Barbara Feltus,) on the cover of Stern magazine, and for his flamboyant lifestyle.
Today, when I look back on how I became a serious follower of tennis, I can honestly say that it all really began with a schoolgirl crush on the handsome Swede – who was said to be so gracious and sporting that the tour’s sportsmanship award was named after him – and those Edberg-Becker matches on the green grass at Wimbledon.
Their generation of Wimbledon champions included Germany’s Michael Stich, the great Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, and the tall and lanky Croatian, Goran Ivanišević. Ivanišević lost in three Wimbledon finals first and seemed destined to be forever the bridesmaid. Ivanišević’s matches rarely lacked entertainment, both due to his erratic play and his volatile personality, and his propensity to choke during big moments often made him a loveable underdog. Which is why it seemed like poetic justice when, in 2001, ranked number 125, he beat Australia’s Pat Rafter to become the lowest ranked player and only wildcard entrant to win Wimbledon.
Between them, Edberg, Becker, and Ivanišević claimed six Wimbledon men’s singles titles and eight runner up finishes at Wimbledon before they left the game and the public eye. We may have caught occasional glimpses of them as they received honours or attended matches, but our attention had shifted, rightly, to those who now competed in their place.
Teaching today’s stars
The three men are back. Over the past couple of years, fans may have grown accustomed to seeing them – along with Ivan Lendl and Michael Chang – in players’ boxes, performing in the new roles as coach. But nowhere is this more poignant perhaps than here at the All England Club, where they had their sweetest and most memorable wins.
Edberg will sit in Federer’s box with his hair neatly combed, restrained and polite, clapping occasionally when his ward, himself a veteran now, hits an exceptional shot.
Becker will sit in Djokovic’s box, with his hair brushed back, his cheeks flushed and a little swollen, possibly with beer, egging on his charge with a lot more passion.
Facing Becker off yet again will be Ivanisevic, who made his Wimbledon debut before Cilic was born. He will be in the younger Croat’s box, still tall but no longer scrawny, sporting a goatee, while his darting eyes watch every move.
Interestingly, the three former players were hired to coach the current ones at around the same time.
Cilic was twelve when Ivanišević won Wimbledon. He idolised Goran and ended up hiring him as his coach in the middle of 2013, after he was suspended for a banned stimulant, which the player said he had taken inadvertently through glucose tablets purchased at a pharmacy. The nine-month ban was eventually reduced to four, and it was up to Ivanišević to motivate the dejected Cilic and get the former top-10 player back on track. Last year, under Goran’s mentorship, Cilic beat Federer in the semifinals of the US open, and went on to take the title.
The fact that of all the former champions in the world Federer should pick Edberg as his part-time coach (Edberg is usually only present at the Grand Slams, while Federer’s regular coach is Severin Luethi) in early 2014 perhaps seemed inevitable to many of us who have seen them both play over the years. The two epitomise a kind of classic elegance and unruffled calm on the court. They are almost too cool and too graceful to watch. Their reactions during matches are understated like their personalities. Since the partnership began, Federer has taken to serving and volleying more, especially on grass, a reminder of the good old days.
And then there’s the reigning world number one, Djokovic, coached by the equally expressive Becker, both of them usually charged up during matches, pumping their fists and shouting on key points. After losing the 2013 Wimbledon final to Andy Murray and the US Open final as well as the number one ranking to Rafa Nadal, Djokovic hired Becker as his head coach in December that year, hoping to resume his position at the top. Last year he was back to his winning ways at Wimbledon, where we had the delightful experience of seeing Becker pitted against Edberg in the players’ boxes. This year, we may well have a repeat but first Becker has to contend with his other old rival in the quarters.
Lessons from the masters
Obviously this generation of players thinks it has a lot to learn from their predecessors. Most likely, at this stage of their careers, it’s not basic skills but strategy. Federer has admitted that initially when they got together, they had discussed how to play his nemesis Nadal among other things. The former champions bring their experience and insight to the table. As far as the players are concerned, seeing in their corners during intense moments the same idols they once looked up to as kids must surely add some extra inspiration.
But as far we, the fans, are concerned, what they add to the matches is that extra bit of glamour. I find myself as interested in Edberg or Ivanišević’s reaction after a big point as anything else on the court. Besides, who can resist a slice of nostalgia served up with the tennis ball? A glimpse of those old foes offers a glimpse of our younger selves, of the posters on our bedroom walls when we were growing up, of a time that began as far back as the pre-cable era when Doordarshan broadcast grainy images of tennis a few times a year, a time when even doubles victories seemed unattainable for Indians.
A couple of years ago, when Andy Murray won the singles title defeating Djokovic, I found myself celebrating not for him but for his then coach Ivan Lendl who finally allowed himself a smile on that court where he had been thwarted so often. Surely, that moment for Lendl transcended the sheer pleasure of coaching someone to victory – a moment of vindication.
Lendl won’t be around at the quarter-finals, but, perhaps fittingly, among the coaches present will be the three former champions. While tennis fans will cheer for their favourite players to win and move on, some of us should be forgiven for actually cheering for their coaches, the original favourites, the ones who introduced us to Wimbledon.
