Men's Tennis "Rewind" 1980: Borg-McEnroe: The Day the Earth Stood Still

Prelude

July 1980—a magnificent summer filled with sizzle and smoke. Earlier in the year, President Carter had signed a bill to bail out Chrysler Corporation to the tune of $1.5 billion. Hmmm…sounds vaguely familiar, doesn’t it? He had also decided to boycott the 1980 summer Olympics to be held in Moscow. 

1980 also saw the release of Back in Black by AC/DC, as well as the much anticipated debut of The Empire Strikes Back–installment No. 2 of the George Lucas’ Star Wars trilogy. 

Ronald Reagan won the Republican Party’s nomination for President of the United States...swept in by the Religious Right, whose party platform backed away from the Equal Rights Amendment...a backwards move indeed.

But for this especially enamored teenage girl at age 15, the highlight of the summer was watching her idol Bjorn Borg win another grass court battle royal against the American hot-head, John McEnroe.

The Match

The awakening of my tennis passion began with the Swedish God, Bjorn Borg. How could you not love him? He was great looking, blond, with penetrating eyes, and an impenetrable demeanor. 

His movement around the court seemed effortless. He remained a mystery, self-contained. He had secrets. Underneath the cool, however, were deep convictions and a ruthless spirit. He expected to win until he lost. Losing was abhorrent. Winning was everything. Anger was internal. Vulnerability was universal. 

Watching him play on my tiny TV was a revelation. It wasn’t just that Borg was tremendously sexy, because he was—as a teenager, Borg was my introduction to fantasy.

It wasn’t just that he was an outstanding athlete with the physical and mental accoutrements that appealed to those of us who appreciate the artistry of the game–yes, there was all that. 

But add in Borg’s mystique and you have a superstar...a James Dean in tennis whites or a young Marlon Brando chewing on his lower lip pacing the baseline.

Borg was the first true “hunk” of tennis. For this tanned and supple teenager with an overactive libido, my heart did triple time watching Borg dig out McEnroe shots fired at his feet. 

The match became a battle of epic proportions of good vs. evil; of cool vs. hot. The match spun on its axis, tilting toward one conqueror–then the other.

During the match, McEnroe’s hair seemed to expand, held in place by the bright red headband. As I watched him serve, I understood why he was plagued by back problems throughout his career. That serving motion he used for years had to erode his spine. I knew all about John McEnroe...having seen his histrionics either live or in replays. 

I loved Borg. I wanted him to win. John was a boy and Borg was a man—at least in my estimation. It showed itself in demeanor, in poise and in movement. John was petulant and self-absorbed. He seemed to pout. He was America. 

Borg was larger-than-life. He was smooth and seemingly unfazed by the score that tipped against him as he lost the first set [6-1]. In real time, when the match was tense—I had to look away. 

The second set was equally unimpressive, as Borg tightened his game and McEnroe lost his edge. Borg squared the match at 7-5 in the second set. Then he seemed to sail through the third 6-3. 

I was breathing much easier as my hero continued to advance and overtake McEnroe.  Borg was closing in on another Wimbledon crown.

Things really got interesting during the fourth set. As the match progressed, the quality of the tennis heightened. The match had rhythm as the points ticked off one after another with rallies intensifying the drama. 

As part of the action, McEnroe scorched it right down the middle, but Borg waited on it and smacked it past him down the right side. McEnroe stared at the spot—then at Borg. 

Later, Borg fired a serve right into the body. McEnroe popped it back to Borg’s forehand. They exchanged a couple of cross-court shots and finally McEnroe hit a soft chip-drop shot as he rushed forward to cover the net. 

Borg somehow managed to catch up to it to hit a back hand lob down the line—McEnroe lunged to slice it cross court—whereon Borg sailed  it just past him, winning the point. You just don’t see that kind of subtle play much anymore on grass.

Borg earned a break at 5-4 in the fourth set after McEnroe volleyed into the net. It looked like the match was over. But Borg proved himself to be human and he choked, allowing McEnroe back into the match. 

Thus began the most talked about tiebreaker in the history of tennis. It took 22 minutes, just five minutes less than the entire first set. 

The crowd, as well as the entire viewing audience, was held in anguished suspense through out the tiebreak. There were untold amazing shots blistering the court’s browning and barren surface as momentum see-sawed between two equally-matched opponents. 

Match points and set points alternated through out the tiebreak in agonizing repetition, with no let up of tension.

Finally, McEnroe served his way into history. He watched, stunned, as Borg netted a forehand volley. McEnroe took the tiebreak 18-16 and the fourth set 7-6. 

Most players would have caved after such a disappointment but not Borg. His powers of concentration remained supreme. Borg lost the first two points on his serve in the fifth set but quickly reverted and dominated on his service games, losing only one more point while serving at 77 percent in the final set. 

McEnroe fought brilliantly against this all out assault but finally lost the fifth set, as Borg won 8-6, falling to his knees.

The Wrap Up

Now, of course, I can watch the match knowing that in the end, Borg wins...but it was unbearable in 1980. The match lasted three hours and 53 minutes and included the best-played tiebreaker in the history of the game. 

I was there—I couldn’t watch and I could not bear not to watch. I was in agony, wringing my hands and pacing. Like Borg, I sank to my knees sobbing, not on Wimbledon grass but on shag carpeting after he won 8—6 in the fifth and final set.

The relief that flooded over his features as he sank down and yelled to the heavens was cathartic to me, as well. I couldn’t have stood it if he had lost. 

What a contest—I had never witnessed anything like it. When Borg lost the tiebreaker—I thought my head would explode. A player with lesser talent and resolve would have folded. But that was not in Borg’s nature, despite all the pressure applied by McEnroe. Borg won his fifth Wimbledon in a row. 

“That is my biggest ambition,” he said.  “I want to be remembered as the greatest.”

So said Borg after the epic match concluded. Borg considered it the best match of his long and illustrious career. Yet, even as the scene faded and the accolades began to recede, the seeds of doubt manifested themselves in the residue of McEnroe’s power and in his growing confidence. 

As a fan of Borg—I remained elated. I needed to re-live the tributes, the words of praise, the photos and the dreams of the future. Borg was the fittest athlete on the tour, who worked hard at his game and was willing to change—hence the forays into the net. 

Unlike the baseliner he was, Borg attacked, often surprising McEnroe on the other side of the net. McEnroe was younger but not fitter physically or mentally. 

McEnroe’s final comment before his match with Borg, “No matter how bad I am, they’ve got to want someone else to win this tournament. He’s won it four times in a row. It’s not going to be such a bummer if he loses. If they want him to win, that’s just ridiculous. This could go on forever.” 

But as fans of Borg we did want it to go on forever. We were not ready for the likes of John McEnroe to topple our hero. Borg needed to win, to carry on his records, his titles, his stretch at the top of the game. 

Borg alone was worthy of winning in our estimation. We would never be ready for him to lose on the grass at Wimbledon or the clay of Roland Garros. We were witnessing the best ever and we needed him to keep advancing his game and the game of tennis. 

As long as Borg won, all was right with the world.