No one ever accused Ilie Năstase of being boring. In the course of a single match, he could go from total focus and brilliant play to such extreme grandstanding that he could put a victory in doubt. There was no way of knowing which Ilie would turn up on a particular day. The stakes were irrelevant: He might clown his way through a crucial Davis Cup rubber or buckle down and obliterate an early-round foe.
By October 1973, only two things were certain. The first: Năstase was the best clay-court player in the world. Since the beginning of the year, he had won eight tournaments on dirt against only one loss. Combined with occasional success on other surfaces, he sat atop both the ATP ranking list and the Grand Prix points table.
The other apparent certainty was that he couldn’t beat Tom Okker. Since their first encounter in 1968, Okker had won six of eight. The “Flying Dutchman” held second place in the Grand Prix standings, and his combination of intensity and blistering speed was a puzzle that Năstase couldn’t solve. The Romanian had won a Davis Cup tilt in straight sets back in May, but more recently, it had been all Okker. In the semi-finals at both Los Angeles and Chicago, the fastest man on tour had beaten Năstase–twice in three weeks.
Something had to give. On October 20th, the two men met in yet another semi, this time on the high-altitude clay of the Madrid Open. Năstase had been his usual inscrutable self, meandering through early-round three-setters with no-names Jose Guerrero and Julian Ganzabal, then brushing aside the much stronger Mark Cox and Niki Pilić. Okker hadn’t been much steadier, dropping two sets but turning in a confident win over the fast-rising 21-year-old from Argentina, Guillermo Vilas.
In the semi, Okker took the first set, 6-4, and Năstase stormed back to grab the second, 6-1. The Romanian kept streaking, all the way to 5-2, 40-0 in the decider.
There were no computers in the press boxes of 1973, but it didn’t take statistical proof to know that the match was in the bag. At a rough estimate, Năstase’s chances of winning, at triple match point with a two-break advantage, were 99.8%. Mercurial as he was, even Ilie couldn’t throw this one away.
And then he did.
Okker easily saved the first two match points, then took the third with a let-cord winner. Năstase had spent most of the third set distracted, griping about the chilly conditions, a less-than-enthusiastic crowd, and the state of the court. The unlucky dribbler pushed him over the edge. Even in such a mood, the Romanian could beat most players, but Okker wouldn’t be denied: He didn’t allow Nastase another game, and the match went to the underdog, 6-4, 1-6, 7-5.
The loss didn’t threaten Ilie’s status as the leader in the Grand Prix race; his lead was effectively insurmountable. Still, who would consider him the best player in the game while he was Okker’s pigeon?
This being Năstase, it wasn’t quite the end of the story in Madrid. He and Okker paired up for the doubles semi-final, facing the oddball duo of Ion Țiriac–Ilie’s former mentor and doubles partner–and Björn Borg. When Okker called Țiriac a cheat and crossed the net to check a ball mark, Țiriac swung a racket at him. The Romanian veteran was immediately disqualified, and the Năstase/Okker duo cruised to the title.
It wasn’t the championship Ilie had hoped for–or expected–when he arrived in Madrid. He managed much better when Okker was playing elsewhere–or, at least, on the same side of the net.
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This post is part of my series about the 1973 season, Battles, Boycotts, and Breakouts. Keep up with the project by checking the TennisAbstract.com front page, which shows an up-to-date Table of Contents after I post each installment.
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