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| A Bjorn Borg hollow face |
But hey, I won't discuss the said album. I'm taking a breather from music this time. For this entry, I'd like to take a look back at one of my boyhood heroes.
As a fourteen year old high school sophomore back in 1980-81, we didn't have cable TV yet. No ESPN, Star, and Fox Sports. In fact we only had five, I repeat, five channels on local television - 2, 4, 7, 9 and 13.
We tuned in most frequently to the last three channels for popular series like the Six Million Dollar Man, MASH and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. The channel that had the lion's share of our viewing though had to be channel 9, then known as RPN-9.
They had movies, hit series, specials and most importantly sports programs. They were the first home to Asia's first pay for play league, the PBA as well as to the widely popular ABC's Wide World of Sports that aired in the morning right up till noon.
One of the many oft replayed feature was the classic 1980 Wimbledon finals between John McEnroe and of course, the subject of this entry, no other than Swedish tennis hero - Bjorn Borg.
It was a finale for the ages. Many considered it to be the greatest in the history of the All-England Club. The brash, volatile and then young upstart from New York aiming to dethrone the then four time champ.
It was also a study in contrast - fire and ice they were dubbed by many sports scribes. You have the temperamental hot headed Yankee on one end of the court and the mild mannered, reserved Swede on the other. Mac was all out aggression while Bjorn was always cool and calculating.
It was truly a championship for the ages.
The two combatants split the first two sets. Mac was so dominant in the opener. I can still vividly recall that wicked McEnroe serve. The angles he created and the speed he generated gave the champ more than he could handle. Borg, who has one of the best, if not the best returns in tennis finally got his groove back in the third set and was conceivably playing better until the middle of the fourth. There I was in front of our old Zenith black and white television set saying to myself that it's just a matter of time.
But lo and behold. Borg squandered a match point and McEnroe forced the now legendary tiebreaker. It was "the" tiebreaker that gave us more drama than what the most popular soap operas could offer. Momentum shifted from one player to another. Just when you thought it's over, one player saves a set or a match point. One great shot only to be followed by an even greater shot. And after what seemed like an eternity, we go to a fifth and deciding set.
The fifth was another humdinger of a set but in the end as fate would have it, Bjorn Borg was able to whip that famous two fisted backhand pass and it sailed past a waiting McEnroe at the net for the win.
Bjorn then fell to his knees, fist pumped and shouted to the heavens. He has captured a then unheard of fifth consecutive Wimbledon championship!
That year, I bought a shirt from Bjorn's clothing line for my Christmas get-up. A trading card of his was on the cover of my notebook. I tried to emulate his demeanor and style when playing badminton or hand ball pelota with my brother. For an informal theme in our English class, I composed "The Wimbledon Champion."
I had no inkling whatsoever that it was my hero's last hurrah.
I thought Bjorn Borg was unbeatable. My grandfather saw otherwise. He said the match indicated that Borg's reign was about to end and next year would be a passing of the torch. I argued of course.
A year later, I realized that a fifteen year old's biased mind was no match against a fiftysomething's wisdom.
True enough, McEnroe claimed his first Wimbledon title that very same year and then broke Bjorn's and my heart again later at Flushing Meadows where I thought Borg would exact revenge, return the favor en route to capturing his first ever US Open crown.
I was wrong and my grandpa simply said: "I told you so..."
A year and a half later, Bjorn Borg officially announced his retirement.
Perhaps, Bjorn saw the writing on the wall the way my grandpa did. More than anybody, he knew that his time was up and maybe, just maybe, he couldn't bear the thought of playing second fiddle to anyone.
After Borg faded into tennis oblivion, I lost the desire to learn the rudiments and the love of the game.
