BORIS FRANZ BECKER
Do you remember Boris Becker?
The young Boris Becker?
He was a 6’3” lithe carrot-topped whippet of a tennis firebrand, strong and powerful with a deep reservoir of stamina which seemingly could never be fully tapped.
(In the 1987 Davis Cup, Becker and John McEnroe played one of the longest and most grueling matches in the annals of tennis with Becker ultimately the victor 4–6, 15–13, 8–10, 6–2, 6–2. There were no tiebreaks in Davis Cup play then; the match lasted 6 hours and 22 minutes).
And he had talent.
Enormous talent.
Big serve (spawning the monikers “Der Bomber”, “Baron von Slam” & “Boom Boom”).
Eye-popping athleticism particularly at the net featuring his now-historic signature diving volley.
A former World №1 professional — for twelve weeks in 1991 — hailing from the Deutschland, he was a 6-time major singles champion with 49 career titles overall — along with 15 doubles titles — and the youngest Wimbledon winner in history at age 17 in 1985.
In so doing, he became the first unseeded player and the first German to wear the Wimbledon Men’s Singles crown.
(He also won the tournament in 1986 and 1989).
Singles was his bread-and-butter.
He was a singles winner in the year-end Masters/ATP Tour World Championships in ’88, ‘92,and ’95; the WCT Finals in ’88; & at the Grand Slam Cup in ’96. He won 4 singles championships at London’s Queen’s Club, tying a record and posted a 54–12 mark in Davis Cup play including a 38–3 slate in singles.
Becker has won singles titles in no fewer than 14 countries: Australia, Austria, Belgium, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Netherlands, Qatar, Sweden, Switzerland, United Kingdom and these United States.
He also found himself with Olympic Gold hanging around his neck in Barcelona (1992) as the Men’s Doubles Champion, partnered with countryman Michael Stich.
Most deservedly, the International Tennis Hall of Fame opened its heavy doors and hallowed halls to Boris Franz Becker in 2003.
And have I mentioned that Boris Becker is a bit of a whack-job?
Failed marriages, infidelity, kids all over the lot, divorce and paternity settlements, epic over-the-top house parties, a 2002 tax evasion conviction, other assorted and sweeping tax difficulties, massive unpaid debt, luxury property sell-offs and auctions, cash-flow problems, possible bankruptcies, and in spite of his “not especially clever business talent,” a reported net worth estimated at $29 million.
One of the greatest tennis players ever, a one-time revered sports figure the world-over has become the poster-boy for malice-laced ridicule.
Bonking Boom-Boom Boris.
The tabloids have run and continue to run wild.
And among his varied and diverse pursuits, perhaps his most perspicacious was signing on to coach Novak Djokovic in 2014.
Since joining forces, Becker has played a hand (no pun intended — he is a veteran of both the European and World Poker Tours) in 6 of his protege’s 12 Grand Slam titles & 13 of his 29 Masters 1000 crowns.
Hunky-dory…till yesterday (07/02/2016) at Wimbledon, courtesy of # 28 seed American Sam Querrey.
Sam Querrey stopped the rolling tide at Wimbledon yesterday — not to be confused with the periodic rains which have wreaked havoc with first week scheduling forcing middle-Sunday play for only the fourth time in the tournament’s storied past — also known as Novak Djokovic, stunning the top seed and World #1 in 4 sets 7–6 (8–6), 6–1, 3–6,7–6 (7–5) waging their own rain-delayed battle.
This match was interrupted Saturday three times by rain after being suspended in progress by the ever-present showers Friday evening.
Novak had won 30 consecutive Grand Slam matches and 4 consecutive Grand Slam titles — over 2 tennis-calendar years, sorry — and he was on a roll.
Twenty-eight Grand Slam quarterfinal appearances in a row also disappeared on the rock and shell-strewn shore.
So kudos to Querrey, #41 in the world. And there will be more about him from me at another time.
But back to Boris — or as my father, an avid tennis fan and great admirer of Becker referred to him, knowingly and jokingly (wishful, not wistful) Morris — as Novak’s coach.
Could he have imparted anything to stem this tide?
Did he, when presented with the opportunity?
And how much does it or would it matter?
In that regard, what good is a coach anyway in this esoteric world after the match begins, save for shooting an understood glance or a predetermined agreed-upon signal or two?
I mean is current coach, hitting partner, mentor and who-knows-what else Patrick Mouratoglou, really the driving force behind Serena’s nearly unprecedented successes on the tennis court?
It should be made clear that this piece is not intended to be an indictment of Boris Becker the tennis coach, the tennis player or more importantly, the man.
I mean what do I care?
I loved watching him, his joie de vivre and even some of his well-documented antics amused me.
And God bless him.
But when I see how the years and his personal travails have so deeply and indelibly etched themselves into his appearance, it saddens me a little.
This tennis icon’s and superhero’s once smooth and youthful countenance accented by those piercing blue eyes and orange mop has been replaced by a tired, ageing visage with a puffy hangdog look beneath some unnatural Trump-like blondish tresses.
Senescence demands and dictates that facial features among others widen and thicken a bit; that is normal, natural actually.
But Boris’ genealogy and whatever else, has brought this inevitability to a new and altogether different level…for better or for worse.
[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in September 2016.]
