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Who is the second-best?
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Rod Laver was undoubtedly the best post-war tennis player. But who comes next? Most people would plump for Pete Sampras but ARVIND SUBRAMANIAN argues for Bjorn Borg.
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IF tennis greatness is measured by success in the four major championships, Rod Laver is the uncontestable answer to the prior question: who is the greatest? Laver's eleven titles were fewer than those of Sampras (14) and Emerson (12) and as many as Borg's. But his credentials to inhabiting the pinnacle are beyond argument. By virtue of his two grand slams, a feat achieved only once before and never since. But more importantly by the recognition that he would almost certainly have amassed many more had the rules not kept Laver out of the majors during his prime years. Indeed, his two grand slams straddled these years in the wilderness. Laver had it all. Serve, ground strokes, wristy lobs, the intimations of top spin, athleticism, and attitude, and was therefore master of all surfaces, from the slow clay of the French Open to the pacey, unpredictable grass of Wimbledon.
But who is the claimant to the throne in the tennis world just a notch below? If you are American, that claimant is, self-evidently, Pete Sampras. After all, by the yardstick of success in the majors, fourteen exceeds twelve and eleven.
Sampras' claims do trump those of Emerson, whose achievements are diluted by the fact that six of his twelve titles were at the Australian Open, the lesser of the four majors. Moreover, a vast majority of his 12 titles coincided with, and most likely caused by, Laver's absence from the majors. With Emerson out of contention, we are down to Borg vs. Sampras. But Borg over Sampras I claim. That verdict is close and controversial because I have to confront the tyranny of numbers and demonstrate that Borg's eleven is greater Sampras' fourteen.
To be sure, Borg had fewer major titles than Sampras. But Borg loaded the dice against himself by disdaining going to the Australian Open after two visits very early in his career.
But Borg over Sampras is founded not on the conjecture that he would have had more titles had he so desired, important though that is. Rather it is based on one single fact: that he won eleven major championships on, and dominated the, two diametrically opposed surfaces, each of which demand completely different attributes as a tennis player. Amazingly, for three of the four years when he won back-to-back French and Wimbledon titles the transition from clay to grass had to be made in a week.
It is well known that grass — the faster surface — favours the serve and volleyer while the slower clay rewards the baseliner, the grinder who keeps the ball in play, stroke after tedious stroke. What is less well known is the asymmetry between the two: clay is more severe on the serve and volleyer than grass is on the baseliner. Over the last 30 years, only one serve and volleyer has won the French Open: Yannick Noah. Newcombe, McEnroe, Edberg, Becker, and Sampras between them won, well, 0 French titles. But quite a few non-serve and volleyers have won at Wimbledon-Borg, Connors, Agassi, and Hewitt.
There is a technical reason for this asymmetry. With a stretch, one might even say that clay is the socialism of tennis while grass embodies capitalism. Clay seeks to equalize, levelling out advantages, especially the big serve and the big ground stroke, and is a contest essentially of not losing rather than winning. Grass, on the other hand, favours aggression, rewarding the big serve and volleyer and the risk-taking inherent in venturing toward the net.
Borg (above) and Sampras (top): Fighting for second place.
Sampras won seven Wimbledon titles and none at Roland Garros. Borg won many times at each — not once or twice but six at the French and five at Wimbledon. On the achievement criterion, Borg wins hands down. But herein lies the irony. Sampras had the more complete game. His serve and volley, of course, stand out. But ask the tennis cognoscenti, and they will salivate at the purity of his ground strokes, the classic, free-flowing single-handed backhand, and especially the running forehand cross-court whipped across the body in full stretch.
Borg on the other hand was an incomplete player. He had great ground-strokes but lacked an overpowering serve and was not a natural volleyer. Yet, Borg could win five consecutive titles on grass. Sampras could not win one French Open title. Evidently, when the clay neutralized his big weapon-the serve--the rest of his game was simply not good enough for him to win a title or even to be a serious contender. That is a fatal blemish on his record, leaving behind the ineradicable doubt that his game was overly reliant on that magnificent serve. Sampras, the greatest grass court player, possibly. The greatest server, very likely. The greatest second-server, unquestionably. But not the greatest. That mantle is Borg's, the most complete incomplete player in the post-war era.
I have only considered grass and clay court performances. What about hard surfaces? What about the U.S. Open, the other major championship? Sampras won four times at Flushing Meadow, whereas Borg had no U.S. open titles. Isn't Borg's failure at the U.S. Open comparable to Sampras' at the French?
Borg never won an U.S. Open, but he did reach the finals four times. In that sense, he was less a failure at the U.S. Open than Sampras at the French. But the doubt endures. Was Borg unable to win the U.S. Open because there was something about the surface — hard courts — that his game was unable to contend with? The answer must be, albeit less definitively, in the negative. While closer to grass, and hence favouring serve and volleyers, hard courts lie between clay and grass, in terms of their demands on a tennis player. If one dominates the grass and clay, the two extreme surfaces, there is no reason why something in between should not also be mastered. The fact that Borg didn't do so — when many lesser baseliners achieved success — is more an inexplicable mystery rather than reflecting an underlying deficiency. Sampras' failure at the French can be explained in a way that Borg's failure at the US Open cannot.
Which of Borg's achievements was greater: winning six French Open titles in the gruelling, levelling sands of Roland Garros or, as a baseliner, winning five consecutive times on grass? That Roland Garros has been a leveller, jealously distributing its spoils rather than granting it to a few is reflected in the fact that there have been far more winners (and hence fewer multiple winners) at the French than at Wimbledon or the U.S. Open. And yet, Borg had six titles, three greater than anyone else in the post-war era.
But Borg's exploits at Wimbledon are also awe-inspiring because his game was so ill adapted to grass. What accounted for his success? In dubbing Borg the greatest athlete tennis has ever seen, John McEnroe identifies one of his two attributes. His athleticism and movement around the court were exceptional, allowing him to overcome the disadvantages on grass of not having a great serve or a good volley. On clay, the slow bounce provides oodles of time to prepare for, and execute, the ground strokes. But on grass, with the ball coming on faster, Borg's quickness allowed him the time to set himself up and play as if it were clay.
Borg's second great attribute was mental toughness, the ability to grind away match in and match out regardless of the situation and to erase what can be the crippling psychological burden of the recently transpired. Borg extricated himself from many tough situations. None was more dramatic than winning the fifth set in the epic 1980 final with McEnroe after having lost seven match points in the 34-point tie-break in the fourth set. That fourth set loss and the consequential collapse of momentum would have destroyed the balance and composure of almost any athlete in any sport. But Borg prevailed thanks not to the ice that was purported to flow in his veins but more likely the steel that substituted for nerves in his brains.
But Borg over Sampras can also be sustained on grounds of spectatorship. Sampras delighted us on many arenas, but he did extinguish the joy of Wimbledon as a spectator sport. Wimbledon, in his time and when he played it so efficiently, was above all a serving contest, with the tennis itself deprived of drama and duration for being so abbreviated and staccato.
On the other hand, there was something so arresting about Borg's ability to walk away from it all at the very top, when people asked why rather than why not. Many great sportsmen hang around long after their peaks, succumbing to the delusion of future success or desperately trying to postpone the emptiness that is often the aftermath of adrenaline-, testosterone-filled lives.
Our remembrance of great champions is often sullied by the memories of pity or vulnerability that are evoked when as fans we are forced to witness the long fading years, the sad, inexorable decline of once-great skill. Borg spared us that.
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