An Invasion Of Privacy

"Bud knows more about tennis than 99.5 percent of the population," says McEnroe, who won seven Grand Slam titles. "But what did he ever do in tennis that would make him know what's happening in the U.S. Open final? The same with Mary Carillo." McEnroe has an uneasy détente with Carillo, for the second straight year his CBS boothmate at the Open men's final (to be telecast on Sunday). "What would she know about playing in the final? She wasn't there."

McEnroe still takes heat for his 1993 remark that women aren't as qualified as men to call men's matches. "It's annoying that people don't acknowledge the reality," McEnroe says. He mulls this over a moment, then barrels on. "They pretend that [Carillo] knows as much about men's tennis as me. Why don't they have three-women broadcast the NBA Finals?"

McEnroe is not unlike Garbo: He wants to be alone. In a perfect, Mac-ocentric universe, he would be by himself in the TV booth and maybe take calls from viewers. "Just get some of these know-it-alls," he says knowingly, "and let me talk to them on the air. That would be far more interesting than hearing, 'He's got 80 unforced errors, and 22 percent of his serves are going to the left of the deuce court.' Eighty unforced errors! I honestly don't think people care."

McEnroe's tactlessness often obscures his passion for tennis. He wants a more coordinated tournament schedule that would build toward a year-end championship. He wants to speed up the game by eliminating lets on serve. He wants the tour to banish metal rackets and go back to wood. And he wants to replace the ranking system, which counts only a player's best 14 tournament results within a 52-week period, with a system that takes in every event a player enters. "The current rules encourage tanking," McEnroe says. "If every tournament counted, you wouldn't see as much half-assing."

He's passionate about the Davis Cup. He likes its camaraderie, its foot-soldier mentality. Though McEnroe is no longer campaigning for the Cup captaincy, he says, "I think I was the type of guy who should have been named captain." That's not a ringing endorsement of Tom Gullikson, who beat out McEnroe for the 1994 captaincy and seems firmly entrenched. Gullikson's squad won the Cup in '95, but this year the captain couldn't persuade any of the top U.S. singles players to compete in a second-round tie against the Czech Republic last April in Prague. The U.S. scrubs lost 3-2. "Tom is a really great guy," McEnroe says. But, he adds, "you want someone who'll bring energy and vitality to the team. Obviously, some sort of boost is needed. The players don't give a damn."

America's foremost tennis patriot (McEnroe played more Davis Cup matches than any other American) believes ties shouldn't be contested during Olympic years. "This year Andre Agassi was in the Olympics but not Davis Cup," McEnroe notes. "[Pete] Sampras and Jim Courier were in neither. Michael Chang played our first Davis Cup tie but not the second. He and Sampras get paid a ton of dough to play tournaments—they don't play Davis Cup, and we lose. What can you say? Chang is Mr. Nice Guy—'The Lord this, that and the other thing.' I don't know why he wouldn't jump to be in the Olympics. His parents are Chinese expatriates, he's making millions of dollars, living like a king...." McEnroe sighs, lowers his eyes, bites his lip. "Too bad."

He is no less despondent about how the international tennis establishment handled the competition in Atlanta. "Allowing six of the top nine men to skip the Games, playing best-of-three sets to the finals, not having a team concept, holding pro tournaments at the same time," he laments. "It was a complete joke."

Is Jimmy Connors's fledgling seniors circuit a joke too? "I wouldn't call it a joke," says McEnroe, who has called it the Dinosaurs Tour. "I mean, a joke's a little harsh. I did view it with some skepticism. I view senior golf as pretty much of a joke. So I guess I put [senior tennis] in the same category. But people love that. Why the hell would people love that? I don't know. So Lee Trevino can make some more millions? It's a farce."

A farce, a joke, whatever. Connors's 13-event Nuveen Tour, for players 35 and older, is a modest venture that plays out before small, country-club crowds. McEnroe occasionally participates, albeit reluctantly. "Let's face it," he says. "It's not Wimbledon." In the six senior events McEnroe has entered since last year, he has never won. "Connors told me clay would be easier on my back," Mac says, "but he forgot to mention Andres Gómez." Four of those McEnroe losses have come at the hands of the 1990 French Open winner.

"I haven't quite figured out how to enjoy losing," says McEnroe. "As you get older, the pain of losing is greater, and the joy of winning is diminished."