jsackmann – Page 16 – Heavy Topspin

June 7, 1973: Boycott

Boy, that escalated quickly.

Two days after the International Lawn Tennis Federation (ILTF) upheld the ban on Yugoslavia’s Niki Pilić, a group of nearly 100 top professionals made it clear that if Pilić couldn’t play Wimbledon, neither would they.

The voice of the Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP) was Cliff Drysdale, a veteran South African player who served as the body’s president. Drysdale represented almost every notable player in the game: Rod Laver, Arthur Ashe, Ken Rosewall, Stan Smith, and more. Just a few pros stood outside the ATP’s ranks, like Jimmy Connors. Both Jimbo and his manager, Bill Riordan, had decidedly independent streaks. Some Eastern Europeans answered only to their national federations, and a handful of youngsters–such as Björn Borg–had yet to sign up. That was it.

Drysdale said that the suspension was a mistake, and that the ILTF couldn’t prove otherwise. The Yugoslavs claimed that Pilić had “refused” to play a recent Davis Cup tie. The player said he had never committed to suiting up for Yugoslavia. In the union’s view, there was no evidence that Pilić ever promised anything, and that was that. The South African claimed to be optimistic that upcoming meetings between the two organizations would result in a solution. But the general readiness to forgo the biggest event on the tennis calendar suggested otherwise.

The next few weeks would be the first real test of the ATP’s strength. The players’ union had been formed only nine months earlier, during the 1972 US Open. Two powerful factions–the ILTF and Lamar Hunt’s World Championship Tennis (WCT)–had just reached a peace pact of their own, divvying up the calendar and ending the prohibitions on some types of players at certain events. The players needed to be at the negotiating table, too. They were, as Ashe put it, “tired of being stepped on by two elephants.”

Ashe took an officer role alongside Drysdale. But the force behind the union was former player and promoter Jack Kramer. Kramer had won Wimbledon in 1947 by perfecting the serve-and-volley game, then gone on to dominate the professional ranks. He quickly moved into management, recruiting amateur stars and running the pro tours. Traditionalists demonized him for soiling the game with dollar signs, but Big Jake simply wanted the players to get their share of the action. There was lots of money in “amateur” tennis.

Kramer liked the tell a story about getting called into the office of one of the USLTA’s chief administrators. The man had heard that Jack–still an amateur in those days–was making a healthy living collecting “expenses” from tournaments beyond the amount necessary to keep him fed and sheltered on the road. It was common practice, but everyone was expected to go along with the charade of playing wholly for the fun of it. Instead, Kramer told the man: Yes, absolutely, he was earning more than he spent. He had a wife and sons to feed. In my situation, he asked, wouldn’t you do the same?

The federation bigwig sent Kramer on his way. The matter was dropped.

From the mid-1950s onward, Jack fought for Open tennis, and he made at least a handful of his fellow players rich. He saw far into the future, predicting a sort of Grand Prix tournament schedule a decade before it came to pass. His pros played tiebreaks long before the majors did. Most of all, he realized that the health of the sport depended on the players–a truism now, but a radical notion at the time. Long before 1973, he knew that the athletes needed their own organization. He told Billie Jean King that the women ought to have one, too.

Kramer’s story is important because his motivations were so often misconstrued. Tennis had given him a comfortable life, so detractors saw him as a money-grubber. His involvement in the Wimbledon boycott caused some–especially in Britain–to accuse him to trying to destroy the game entirely. History has cast him as a villain for different reasons: His support for unequal men’s and women’s prize money inadvertently triggered the formation of an independent women’s tour. But for all of his faults, Kramer pushed for a vision that was awfully close to what professional tennis ultimately became.

Ultimately, Big Jake would play only a supporting role in the drama of the 1973 Wimbledon Championships. While he had a front row seat, the decision–and the sacrifice–of a boycott was up to the players themselves. The ATP’s stated mission was to “unite, promote and protect” the interests of its members. Pilić was one of them, and it sure felt like he was being trod upon by an elephant. The ILTF didn’t recognize the resolve–or the power–of their new adversary. That would soon change.

* * *

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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June 5, 1973: The Brigands Final

*Ilie Năstase (left) and Niki Pilić ahead of the 1973 Roland Garros final*

“The greatest thing about the French,” said John Newcombe, “is that it’s so bloody hard to win.”

The greatest thing about Ilie Năstase was that he made everything look so easy.

The 26-year-old Romanian was, by all accounts, the greatest clay-court player on tour. He had cruised through six rounds in Paris without dropping a single set. Only one man–Roger Taylor, in the quarter-finals–earned a set point against him. Năstase erased it with a sharply-angled backhand that few other men would’ve dared attempt.

The surprise of the tournament was the other finalist: Yugoslavia’s Niki Pilić. Pilić had begun the fortnight in the news for other reasons, after his national federation suspended him for missing a Davis Cup tie. The ILTF allowed him to play the French and delayed a decision on his appeal to June 1st. “Somebody would be embarrassed,” wrote the New York Times, “if by then Pilić was in the final.” Oops.

Pilić, a 33-year-old lefty who hadn’t reached the quarter-finals of a major since 1967, took advantage of a soft draw, then turned in the match of his life to defeat Adriano Panatta in the semi-finals. “He must have been annoyed at me for serving so well,” said the southpaw. “The way I played today, I could beat anyone.” Even Năstase?

A week of rain pushed the schedule back two days, and the final was at last contested on Tuesday, June 5th. The Romanian came out tense, and he dropped the first three games. The embattled Pilić appeared capable of an enormous upset.

“I can always tell after the first two or three games how I will play,” Năstase told Laurie Pignon of the Daily Mail. “The feel of the ball on the racket; the way my body moves, and if my eyes take in everything. When I play badly I get cross with myself for I know I am not giving the people what they have paid to see.”

At the second change of ends, Ilie must have known something that wasn’t yet apparent to the rest of the stadium. He unleashed backhand after backhand to win six games in a row and 11 of the next 12. When Pilic shifted tactics and attacked his forehand in the third set, Năstase hit a string of winners off that wing as well. Final score: 6-3, 6-3, 6-0.

Pilić might have repeated the post-match summary of Năstase’s semi-final victim, Tom Gorman: “Not a good enough volley. Not a good enough second serve. Too good an opponent.”

One French newspaper called the championship match “A Brigands Final,” referring to Pilić’s limbo and Năstase’s on-court antics. The Romanian often veered between charming character and combative cad, but on this day, he kept the theatrics in check. He struck an off-key note only after the match, when he told the crowd that his US Open title the previous year had meant more. With the French title in the bag, he was ready to take on Wimbledon, where he had come within two games of victory the year before. His idol, Manolo Santana, had ridden clay-court expertise to a title at the All-England Club, and Năstase was ready to do the same.

* * *

As if an 80-minute drubbing wasn’t bad enough, Pilić’s day got worse after the match. The ILTF delivered its judgment. It wouldn’t uphold the entire nine-month suspension sought by the Yugoslavian federation, but it assessed a one-month ban. That would keep the Croatian out of both the Italian Open–already underway in Rome–and Wimbledon.

Astute observers recognized that this was only the beginning. David Gray of the London Daily Telegraph reported various retaliatory proposals mooted by members of the Association of Tennis Professionals, the new players’ union. The men could boycott the Davis Cup, or perhaps they would no longer cooperate with the ILTF’s tournament schedule, essentially unleashing an outright war between the old guard and newer pro circuits like Lamar Hunt’s World Championship Tennis.

Gray felt that the ILTF had overplayed its hand. “They still apparently feel that they can control the destinies of the players without proper consultation,” he wrote. “They are likely to find that they are living in the past.”

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June 4, 1973: Cross-Court Crossovers

*Basketball star Artis Gilmore (left) with miler Jim Ryun*

In 1973, tennis was all the rage. But wouldn’t the game be even more fun with stars from other sports? That was the thinking behind the third annual Dewar Sports Celebrity tournament at Kutsher’s Country Club in Monticello, New York.

While the 12-player field was all men, parallels to the recent Battle of the Sexes spectacle were obvious. 62-year-old baseball Hall of Famer Hank Greenberg–a Bobby Riggs pal, no less–was the defending champion. The contrasts were not just between the old and the young. Three of the invitees were basketball players, including seven-foot, two-inch Artis Gilmore, while track and field athletes like Jim Ryun might have passed unnoticed on the street.

Players were picked for their celebrity, not their tennis prowess. Ryun said that he began running because he “couldn’t do anything else,” and he swung and missed on at least one serve. Gilmore’s groundstrokes were softer even than Riggs’s, and Miami Dolphins running back Jim Kiick* griped that the rackets weren’t big enough. Heavyweight boxer Bob Foster was on hand as an alternate, and he was perfectly happy to remain on the sidelines.

* Kiick’s daughter Allie has fared better. She has won seven ITF singles titles and peaked at #126 in the WTA rankings.

The whole tournament took place in one day: June 4th. Hoopster Rick Barry took the individual honors, flashing a big serve and an intensity that suggested he couldn’t simply turn off his competitive streak. After players cycled through a doubles round robin, switching partners throughout the day, the group was whittled down to four. Greenberg and basketball star Gail Goodrich would play for the title against Barry and the man who had just broken the NFL’s single-season rushing record: O.J. Simpson.

In addition to his speed, Simpson had what the New York Times called a “tricky forehand.” But Greenberg and Goodrich were the class of the group, perhaps the only two men present who regularly played tennis. They took the final in a single pro set, 8-2.

Greenberg, his playing days long behind him, was the most accustomed to this kind of half-serious exhibition. He closed the day with a one-liner worthy of a Catskills comedian.

“It’s not so much how you play this game,” he quipped. “What counts is whether you win or lose.”

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June 3, 1973: Half Grand

*Margaret Court (left) and Chris Evert in the 1973 French Open final*

When Margaret Court was in form, playing a full schedule, the Grand Slam watch began on the first day of the season. She entered the 1973 campaign with a record 21 major titles, including the complete set in 1970. Number 22 came when she beat Evonne Goolagong for the Australian championship in January. She got past Goolagong again in the French semi-finals for a chance to play for her 23rd.

The final hurdle was the most hotly anticipated match of the women’s tennis season. Court and Chris Evert had dominated their respective tours. Evert was riding a 23-match win streak; Margaret had won 59 of 62 since the beginning of the year. Despite Court’s experience, there were reasons to favor the 18-year-old Chrissie in her first grand slam final. She had won three of four meetings, with a game better suited to clay. And Evert hadn’t just suffered an embarrassing defeat–with the world watching–to a 55-year-old man.

On June 3rd, the top two women in the game played a match for the ages. It was clear from the start that this wasn’t the same Court who had flubbed an exhibition just three weeks before. “I wish [she] had been in this form when she played Bobby Riggs,” said Chrissie afterward. “She would have hit him off the court.”

A week’s worth of rain had pushed the final back a day; it also delayed the start time. Tournament organizers, showing their usual gender preference, scheduled two men’s quarter-finals first. Evert was visibly jittery and lost four of the first five games. “It took me two or three games to find out where I was,” she said. “I had never seen so many people there before.” But the teenager warmed to the 12,000-strong crowd, dragged Court into longer rallies, and evened the score at 5-all. Margaret failed to convert two set points, then recovered to take a 5-2 lead in the tiebreak. Here Evert showed that she wasn’t overawed by the setting: She reeled off five points in a row to take the first set.

The second frame developed in the opposite fashion. Chrissie rode her baseline game to a 5-3 advantage, but failed to serve out the match. The set was decided by another tiebreak, this one perhaps the best tennis of the season. Both women aimed for lines and hit their targets. “In cold blood,” wrote David Gray for the Guardian, “no one would have taken such risks.” Court eked out the breaker, 8-6.

As the match passed the two-hour mark, Margaret finally took command. Neither woman had much left in the tank. Even Chrissie began to come forward in an effort to shorten points. That was all the opening that the veteran needed. The cramps that had taken her out of the Family Circle Cup threatened once again, but this time she could manage. “If my legs can hold out,” she told herself, “I can win.” They did, and she claimed the deciding set, 6-4.

“I must confess I didn’t know Margaret could play so well on clay,” Evert said. “It’s no disgrace to be beaten by Margaret.”

Chrissie was still slam-less, but more than ever, it was clear that she’d change that soon. Could Court hold her off for two more majors? She was now halfway to a second career Grand Slam.

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June 2, 1973: Mary Carillo’s Debut

The Eastern Women’s hardcourt championships in Woodbury, New York was a far cry from the French Open. The growth of pro tennis had seen many once-prominent regional events fall in status. A tournament that might have once attracted the best players in the area–perhaps a national top-tenner or two–was now limited to women who lacked the time, inclination, or talent for the pro circuit.

This effectively turned many smaller events into showcases for rising juniors. Mary Carillo, a 16-year-old left-hander from nearby Douglaston, chose the Eastern to make her adult debut. Among 16-and-unders, she was ranked fifth in the east. She had little trouble with the step up: Unseeded in her first open bracket, she beat third-seeded Adria Price in the quarters, then straight-setted the ambidextrous second seed, Sue Allen, in the semis.

Moving through the draw at the same pace was another junior, 18-year-old Ruta Gerulaitis. Armed with a forehand of “unladylike power,” Gerulaitis was more accustomed to adult competition than Carillo, though she still played junior events as well. Ruta’s mother, Aldona, appreciated her daughter’s relaxed demeanor on court. Mrs. Gerulaitis sometimes had to leave her son’s matches when 19-year-old Vitas lost his temper.

On June 2nd, Carillo and Gerulaitis met for the Eastern title. It was a bruising battle, played mostly from the baseline. Ruta seized the first set, but the younger woman outlasted her. “She was steadier,” Gerulaitis said of her opponent. “She never tired.” Carillo took the match, 4-6, 6-4, 6-4.

Both finalists did double duty that week. Carillo played the 16-and-under draw, while Gerulaitis entered the 18s. Mary had little time to celebrate, as she capped her victory in the adult final with a preliminary match in the junior event later the same day. She won that one, too.

But neither woman could sustain their momentum for another day. Gerulaitis lost the 18-and-under final to Barbara Goldman, and Carillo faltered in the 16s, losing 6-1, 6-1 to Debbie Campbell. Perhaps Campbell was particularly motivated: It wasn’t every day you could take aim at the adult champion in a junior match the next day.

Mary’s mother, Terry, was content to focus on the positive. “I’m going to have outrageous phone bills,” she said as her daughter lifted the trophy. “I’m going to call everybody, people I haven’t seen in ten years. I’m going to say, ‘How have you been? Oh, by the way, have you read your newspaper lately?'”

* * *

Across the Atlantic, the French Open sputtered its way toward a conclusion. Rain wiped out parts of several days of play, so on Saturday the 2nd–one day away from the tournament’s scheduled conclusion–the men were still wrapping up the fourth round. Björn Borg, who had won on Tuesday, didn’t return to the court until Saturday, when he lost to Adriano Panatta. The men’s final would be pushed back to Tuesday.

The women were only one day behind, thanks in part to the extreme efficiency of Chris Evert. Evert had yet to lose a set, and she finished off her semi-final opponent, Françoise Dürr, in 37 minutes. Dürr managed just one game. Evert would finally face Margaret Court, who survived a tougher test against Evonne Goolagong, coming through her match, 6-2, 7-6.

As players were belatedly eliminated from the Roland Garros draw, they hurried straight to Rome. The first Italian results came in on this day as well, before the French quarter-finals had even begun. Organizers at the Italian Open had a tournament to run, and they weren’t about to wait just because it was raining in Paris.

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May 29, 1973: The Super-Swede

*Björn Borg shaking hands with Dick Stockton after their 1973 French Open match*

The 1974 World of Tennis annual noted in its capsule biography of Björn Borg that the Swede had never been beaten by a younger player. That was hardly a surprise. He didn’t turn 17 until June 1973, so he didn’t face many younger players. And he wasn’t in the habit of losing to anybody.

Still, the adult game had its learning curve. Borg won the Orange Bowl junior event in both 1971 and 1972, and he picked up the Wimbledon boys’ title in 1972. He made his Davis Cup debut as a 15-year-old and upset New Zealand’s veteran Onny Parun. He was less consistent on tour, reaching the Monte Carlo final one week, losing a first-rounder in straight sets the next. He made his share of youthful mistakes, but the signature two-handed backhand and the unnaturally calm demeanor were already in place.

The 1973 French Open was his coming-out party. Borg began the event with a 6-2, 6-3 defeat of 9th-seeded American Cliff Richey. In the second round, he outlasted the veteran Frenchman Pierre Barthes, 3-6, 6-1, 8-6. “I didn’t expect to even win today,” said the young man. “He should have beat me.”

When Borg took the court for his third-round match against Dick Stockton on May 29th, he already had a fan club. The “long, fair hair flopping round his neck” won over scores of young women, and his acrobatic game appealed to the rest. Parisian fans were treated to a hard-fought battle in the first best-of-five-set round. Stockton was steadier, but Borg snuck away with the big points.

The 16-year-old advanced with a four-set victory, 6-7, 7-5, 6-2, 7-6. Stockton had four set points in the final tiebreak. Borg needed to run down a smash to save the second one. He awed the crowd one more time on his own match point at 10-9, which he secured with a lob winner.

No young player had a brighter future than the Swede. Adriano Panatta, the flashy Italian waiting for him in the fourth round, had beaten him twice already in 1973. Borg would be the underdog in that encounter, but he was playing the long game. “Now it all depends on me,” he said. “I think I can go all the way.”

* * *

The day was not so rewarding for Virginia Wade. Though the third seed wasn’t known for her clay-court prowess, she had reached the quarter-finals the year before. There was no reason she couldn’t do it again.

She lost anyway, to little-known Frenchwoman Odile de Roubin, 1-6, 6-2, 6-3. “I hate playing bad players and she was so bad,” Wade said. “Then the stadium was empty and there was no atmosphere and I played so stupidly.” No one was prepared to argue the point.

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May 27, 1973: Behind the Scenes

*From the May 27, 1973* New York Times Magazine

The rapid growth of women’s tennis was about more than sport. Everybody knew that. The burgeoning Virginia Slims tour was dubbed “women’s lob.” Equal prize money, once unthinkable, was now a proposition that had to be taken seriously. Whatever Bobby Riggs might have to say about it, these ladies were damn good athletes, and their prominence had ripple effects across the culture.

It wasn’t just die-hard fans who wanted to know more. Press coverage of tennis had always tended toward the matter-of-fact: A recap of a notable match or two–usually between men–followed by a long list of results in microscopic print. Only in the 1960s did newspapers begin to venture the occasional feature story about a rising star or local hero of the courts. Diligent readers would learn that Margaret Court was a mother and that Chris Evert wore pigtails, but not much else.

An article in the May 27, 1973 New York Times Magazine was one of the first efforts to turn women’s tennis stars into multi-dimensional characters. Baseball had Jim Bouton’s 1970 tell-all, Ball Four, and Sports Illustrated employed a team of adventurous journalists filing features about football, basketball, and even–occasionally–men’s tennis. Grace Lichtenstein’s piece for the Times, “Perfume in the locker room,” did the same for the Slims.

Lichtenstein took the reader into the locker room after the final of the Max-Pax Classic in Philadelphia, where Rosie Casals puffed a cigarette and Court sipped a beer. She described life on the road, where players stayed with local families and some–like newcomer Martina Navratilova–struggled with the temptations of fast food.

It was easy to see athletes as a single movement. But as the article was quick to point out, “The players themselves were thoroughly individualistic.” They “never seemed to forget their dual roles as women and athletes,” even if each one handled the balance differently. The young Evert claimed, “No point is worth falling down over,” and she never took the court without makeup. Evonne Goolagong, on the other hand, earned the respect of her male colleagues with a different sort of attitude. One of them said, “she’s the only one [of the women] who wears a jock.” It was a compliment.

In this first major effort, Lichtenstein had to grapple with the relationship between the men’s and women’s games. But as she expanded the article to a season-chronicling book, A long way, baby: Behind the scenes in women’s tennis, the men–apart from husbands, boyfriends, and hangers-on–increasingly disappeared from the picture. Women’s tennis could stand alone. It was time for sportswriters to catch up, and Lichtenstein showed the way.

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The Highest-Ranked Slam Qualifier

Today, Aslan Karatsev plays for a place in the French Open main draw. He is the top seed in qualifying on the strength of his ATP ranking of 62. A top-70 ranking would normally guarantee main draw entry with room to spare. But when the list was finalized about six weeks ago, Karatsev lingered outside the top 120. Since then, he reached the semi-finals in Madrid.

It is rare for such a high-ranked player to appear in qualifying. (Or to put it another way, it is unusual for a player outside the top 100 to make such gains in just a few weeks.) But it is not unprecedented. Here are the 13th highest-ranked top seeds in men’s slam qualifying since 2000:

RANK  Year  Tourney        Player              
57    2013  US Open        Federico Delbonis   
59    2017  US Open        Leonardo Mayer      
62    2009  Roland Garros  Fabio Fognini       
62    2023  Roland Garros  Aslan Karatsev      
67    2004  Roland Garros  Albert Montanes     
68    2000  US Open        Harel Levy          
69    2007  US Open        Frank Dancevic      
69    2009  US Open        Thomaz Bellucci     
70    2015  Roland Garros  Hyeon Chung         
75    2005  Roland Garros  Andreas Seppi       
75    2008  Roland Garros  Eduardo Schwank     
75    2022  US Open        Constant Lestienne  
77    2007  Wimbledon      Nicolas Mahut

I extended the list to 13 for a reason: to include Wimbledon. The top 12 spots are monopolized by the French and US Opens, because there are so many ranking points available in the weeks leading up to those events. We have to go much further down the list to find someone at the Australian Open: Taylor Fritz was ranked 91st when he played 2018 Aussie qualifying.

While Karatsev has progressed smoothly this week, a high rank is no guarantee of success. Federico Delbonis was ranked 57th when he began qualifying rounds at the 2013 US Open. He was fresh off a run to the Hamburg final the month before. He lasted just 55 minutes against Mikhail Kukushkin, then headed home a first-round loser.

Vijay!

I’ve only gone back to 2000 because I don’t have full qualifying results for tournaments before that. But we can find some qualifiers from earlier years, because we know which main draw players came through the preliminary rounds.

Peter Wetz ran this query for me and found a surprise. In 1982, 35th-ranked Vijay Amritraj reached the Wimbledon main draw as a qualifier. 35! Arguably, he was even better than that. He had finished the 1981 season ranked 20th, in large part on the strength of a quarter-final showing at Wimbledon, where he couldn’t convert a two-sets-to-love lead on Jimmy Connors. Amritraj was considered one of the best grass-court players in the world.

The 28-year-old Indian star was stuck in qualifying because he was at odds with the tennis establishment. The men’s Grand Prix–roughly speaking, the equivalent of today’s ATP tour–established a new rule, that players must commit to at least ten Grand Prix events in order to be eligible for the slams. Another protester was Björn Borg, who wanted to keep playing only if he could pick his spots more carefully.

Amritraj had a lot of things going on, and he didn’t like being “press-ganged” into playing all those events. He was pursuing an acting career and would appear in the 1983 James Bond film Octopussy. Still, this was Wimbledon. He claimed he had received hundreds of letters from fans begging him to play. In India, he said, the only two events that mattered were Wimbledon and Davis Cup.

So Vijay went to qualifying. He was the biggest story of the event, which typically didn’t make headlines at all. He opened his campaign with a win, something he had waited 11 years for. He hadn’t entered qualifying since 1971, when he was 17 years old and failed to clear the first round.

He won his second match with ease as well, straight-setting Christo van Rensburg. He learned that day that he had already earned a main draw place thanks to a withdrawal. In those days, there was no lucky loser lottery. When a main draw position opened up, the highest-ranked loser from the final round got in. So Amritraj would make the 128-man field either way.

As it turned out, he earned his ticket–but just barely. Vijay overcame an unheralded American, Glen Holroyd, 6-7, 3-6, 6-4, 7-5, 6-2. “I will need to be better than this,” he said, “if I am to do anything at Wimbledon.”

He did something, but not as much as he would’ve liked. The 35th-ranked qualifier came back from a two-set disadvantage in the first round to beat Jeff Borowiak, then he straight-setted Pascal Portes to reach the round of 32. There, he capitulated to Roscoe Tanner in what must have been a fine display of grass court tennis. Tanner, the 14th seed and 1979 finalist, beat him, 6-4, 6-4, 4-6, 4-6, 6-3. For the fifth year in a row, Vijay exited the Championships after a five-set loss.

Amritraj never did give up on his favorite event. He returned to the main draw for the next five years, reaching the fourth round in 1985 when he upset Yannick Noah. In 1988, his streak came to end when he lost in the final qualifying round to Heiner Moraing, 7-6(3), 4-6, 6-7(3), 7-5, 8-6. Players didn’t call qualifying “heartbreak valley” for nothing.

In 1990, he came back one more time. 19 years after his first attempt to crack the main draw, Vijay got through. Ranked outside the top 300, the 36-year-old was lucky to have a place in the field at all. But he beat Éric Winogradsky, Stéphane Grenier, and Stephen Botfield to qualify. He lost in the first round, but as usual, it took five sets to stop him.

May 25, 1973: Unbroken

*Ion Țiriac in the 1972 Davis Cup Finals*

Here’s a trivia question for you: What was the first grand slam singles match without a break of serve?

In 1973, it hadn’t been possible for long. The US Open was the first major to adopt the tiebreak, in 1970. Before that, every set would continue until someone broke serve and established a two-game lead. Only in 1973 did the other slams follow suit. There weren’t any zero-break matches at the Australian Open, just as there hadn’t been in the first three years of tiebreak tennis at Forest Hills. Even with sudden death shootouts in place, it would be unusual for two men to string together a minimum of three unbroken sets, 36 consecutive holds of serve.

The 1973 French Open made it easier. The tournament experimented with best-of-three-set contests for the first two rounds. Now 24 holds would be enough, even if the slow Parisian clay worked in the returner’s favor.

On May 25, Roland Garros delivered such a match. Two veterans–31-year-old American Frank Froehling and 34-year-old Romanian Ion Țiriac–locked horns for a second-round baseline slugfest that, somehow, never resulted in a break. Froehling advanced, 7-6(3), 7-6(3).

It was a strange outcome. Froehling, like most Americans of his generation, served big. Țiriac, despite his barrel chest and “Brașov Bulldozer” nickname, did not. When the two men faced off in a decisive 1971 Davis Cup match, only one of five sets reached 6-all; two others finished at 6-1. The Romanian had played both Olympic ice hockey and international-level rugby, yet on the tennis court he was a jackrabbit. He realized he didn’t have the strokes of a champion, but he was smart, he was stubborn, and he could run.

And if he couldn’t break your serve, Țiriac could usually break your spirit. No one in the sport practiced more gamesmanship, a polite term for what was often outright cheating. The Romanian’s antics in the 1972 Davis Cup final were flagrant enough that the ILTF suspended him. So obnoxious were the hosts in Bucharest that the United Nations gave a “Fair Play” award to Stan Smith, one of the Americans who withstood it all. Smith’s citation: sportsmanship “in the face of a hostile, chauvinistic public, irregularities in the scoring and aggressive behavior by one of his opponents.” The UN was calling out Ilie Năstase, but Țiriac was probably worse.

By May 1973, the Brașov Bulldozer was wondering if it was worth it anymore. For eight years, he had mentored Năstase, now the best clay courter in the world and the top seed in Paris. Now, they were no longer on speaking terms.

“Năstase was becoming impossible,” Țiriac told a British journalist. “I am the sort of competitor who plays to win but, in doubles, Năstase just wanted to clown about. He let me down badly in the French Championships last year when we were the favorites to win the title. We lost in the first round.”

After the 1972 Davis Cup finals, the Romanian quit the national team. He told the same journalist that he’d retire after the 1974 season. It was clear to another spectator at the Froehling duel that “his heart was clearly not in the match.”

No one knew what Țiriac would do once he gave up full-time competition, but he was always a man to watch. Behind his perpetual glower was a brilliant mind, capable of idiosyncratic conversation in six languages. He had raised Năstase up from what he called “a nothing in the streets of Bucharest.” Perhaps he could do it again.

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Coincidentally, Țiriac’s next project was also in action on May 25th, 1973. 20-year-old Guillermo Vilas of Argentina was little known outside of South America, but that was about to change.

In the second round, the young left-hander drew seventh seeded Spaniard Andrés Gimeno. A year before, Gimeno had become the oldest first-time major champion when he won the French at age 34. This isn’t to say he was a late bloomer: He signed up for the professional ranks when he was 23, after a sterling amateur season in 1960. He held his own against Rod Laver, Ken Rosewall, and the rest for seven years before the start of the Open era. He faced Laver at least 120 times between 1960 and 1971, winning nearly one in three.

But after a four-title 1972 season, Gimeno suffered a meniscus injury. He was a meager 5-4 on the season coming into the French Open, fading as fast as Vilas was rising.

The inter-generational battle was a dramatic one. The Argentinian finally triumphed, 6-2, 5-7, 8-6. Țiriac would later say that Vilas lacked a killer instinct–“This guy not capable in life to kill a fly”–but he was always able to exhaust opponents into submission. For the second year in a row, the lefty had reached the third round in Paris.

Soon, Vilas’s accomplishments would be measured not in match wins, but in finals–often against rival Björn Borg. The coincidences multiply: Yet another match on May 25th was a delayed opening-round tilt, 16-year-old Borg’s first-ever appearance at the French. He, too, made a statement that day, handing a routine defeat to 1971 Roland Garros quarter-finalist Cliff Richey, 6-2, 6-3.

While Țiriac’s two-tiebreak loss to Froehling was the quirkiest result of the day, tennis history was in the making all over the grounds.

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May 24, 1973: All Together Now

It was even more exciting than usual to look over the draw for the 1973 French Open. 128 men, 64 women, and no senseless divisions. Margaret Court, queen of the Virginia Slims circuit, in the same bracket as Chris Evert and Evonne Goolagong for the first time all year. Ilie Năstase and Jimmy Connors, flashy standouts of the USLTA’s winter indoor circuit, alongside Stan Smith and the pros of the World Championship Tennis tour.

“This is the way it should have been all the time,” said Jimbo. “We should all be together to find out the best in the world.”

The field wasn’t quite complete. Billie Jean King and Rosie Casals stayed home and would headline an event in Alabama instead. Rod Laver was injured. Ken Rosewall opted to rest, saving energy for what the 38-year-old believed would be his final shot at a Wimbledon title.

On the other side of the ledger was a surprise: Niki Pilić, suited up and ready to play. Suspended by the Yugoslavian federation for missing a Davis Cup tie, the French Open allowed him to enter while he waited for the ILTF to decide on his appeal. Most insiders just wanted the problem to go away. One journalist suspected that the tournament committee “will probably root for him to lose.”

Pilić was drawn to face Connors, the 12th seed, if both men reached the round of 32. On May 24th, they began their campaigns. Pilić had little problem with Hungarian qualifier Géza Varga, winning 6-4, 6-4. The tournament was experimenting with the rules: The first two men’s rounds were best-of-three, and for the first time, French Open sets would be decided by tiebreaks at 6-all.

Connors, however, wouldn’t last long enough to meet the Croatian. Making just his second appearance in Paris, Jimbo drew a tricky first-round opponent. Raúl Ramírez, a 19-year-old Mexican who had upset Tom Gorman to open a recent Davis Cup tie in Mexico, was probably no secret to Jimbo–he was the star freshman for the University of Southern California Trojans–and his comfort with the slow Parisian clay was enough for an upset. Ramírez played hard, competing for every point. Connors reached 5-3 in the second-set tiebreak, but a string of errant forehands gave away the lead and the match, 6-4, 7-6.

At the top and bottom of the draws, though, there were no surprises. Năstase, who was already 25-1 on clay courts for the season, straight-setted Chilean Jaime Pinto-Bravo. Smith overcame an early stumble to advance against Frenchman Georges Goven.

For Court, Goolagong, and Evert, the early going was a mere formality. None of the trio lost more than two games in a first-round set. Chrissie, making her first appearance at Roland Garros, was the most impressive of all. She disposed of Australian Marilyn Tesch, 6-1, 6-0, missing a double bagel only because of a pair of double faults.

Connors would have to wait to prove his mettle against the established order. But a long-awaited Evert-Court showdown was shaping up nicely.

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