When he was king
Sunday June 5, 2005
'I think Björn's greatest victory was not the way he came to master his ground strokes, but the change he underwent, with terrible determination, to tame his passionate spirit.' Lennart Bergelin, Borg's coach
Was ever a great champion so misunderstood, even in the broad light of his glory, as Björn Borg? By the time of the Wimbledon championships of 1980, when he was 24, he had won the grass-court competition each of the four preceding years, as well as the French Open, on clay, five times. On contrasting surfaces that required radically different approaches, this was an achievement without precedent. And yet the calm young master was widely regarded as an automaton, a robot. The Swede had is i magen: ice in his stomach. In the British press he was the 'Iceberg'. His admirers no less than his critics described a man with cold blood running through his veins.
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Born on 6 June 1956, Borg was brought up in Södertälje, an industrial town of 100,000 people 30 minutes drive south-west of Stockholm, the only child of Margarethe and Rune, a clothes-shop assistant. He first appeared at Wimbledon in 1972, winning the junior title, a lanky Swedish youth with a straggle of blond brown hair. He had blue eyes that were so close together they appeared slightly crossed. He kept them averted from other people, betraying the shy evasion of a teenager who believes everyone is looking at him - the one object he focused on was a tennis ball when about to hit it. He had a sharp nose in a thin, feral face, with a long pointed chin; his wide shoulders were stooped and he walked with a rolling gait. And yet everywhere he went he was pursued by mobs of schoolgirls. Less a Viking, really, than an Arthurian knight, Borg was embraced by England. We were drawn to his modesty.
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Borg, meanwhile, was rising fast. He had already won the French Open twice when he came to Wimbledon in 1976, aged 20. He scorched through the fortnight without dropping a set. It was the hottest summer of the 20th century - the final was played in 41°C - and the baked turf, giving the ball a higher, truer bounce, helped the young baseliner. In the final he met the gifted trickster Ilie Nastase. After a nervous beginning, when he went three games to love down, Borg found his range. He chased down every drop shot and passed Nastase with ease. At one point, Borg was at the net and the frustrated Nastase, sensing his last chance of the championship being tugged away from him, belted the ball straight at his opponent. Borg barely flinched as it flew past his ear, and out; he stared at Nastase, who had turned towards the baseline before he registered what Borg was doing and so then conducted a comical doubletake, to turn back to face him again.
http://observer.guardian.co.uk/osm/story/0,6903,1496703,00.html