Das Wunderkind

In the fourth round Becker recovered from a twisted ankle to outslug a 1982 Wimbledon semifinalist, Tim Mayotte, 6-2 in the fifth. He hardly glanced at Mayotte on the handshake. By the quarterfinals all regularly scheduled television programs in the homeland were canceled for Boris in Limeyland. Wrote the man from the Times, "How odd Germany should have such personal interest in a court on which in 1940 they dropped a bomb."

Jarryd, the fifth seed, seemed in control of his semifinal match with Becker. Jarryd won the first set 6-2 and had two set points at 5-4 in the second. But then Boom Boom started unloading his sound effects. Trailing 3-1 in the tiebreaker, Becker thundered a return winner, served another bomb and then stalked around the net post to change ends. His stride took him straight for Jarryd, but the older man looked up just in time to lurch out of the way lest he be crunched unceremoniously to the ground. Jarryd didn't win another point in the breaker and went on to lose 2-6, 7-6, 6-3, 6-3. The Boomer patted Jarryd on the shoulder as if dismissing a puppy. "Boris never thinks about it; he just plays," said Henri LeConte, who had eliminated Ivan Lendl before falling in the quarters to Becker. "I see his plan. He just hit ball, make winner, win, say thank you and go bye-bye."

Indeed, you could say that was a fairly accurate assessment of Martina Navratilova's strategy at the championships. But before the Divine Ms. MN could claim her fourth straight Wimbledon singles title (tying Helen Wills Moody) and her sixth overall (tying Suzanne Lenglen), she had to meet the challenge of Chris Evert Lloyd on the bookshelves as well as on the court. It wasn't enough that for the first time the tournament created co-No. 1 seeds in honor of these two remarkable champions; both had new biographies to push as well. For every revelation published in Martina—she used to keep a gun under her pillow; she is intrigued with the idea of Wayne Gretzky fathering her children—Chris came up with a juicy tidbit in Lloyd on Lloyd, which she and husband John wrote with Carol Thatcher, who is the daughter of you know who. Example: The first time John was introduced to Chris, she figured he was gay because she thought only gay men said "lovely" to meet you.

Sad to say, this was the extent of the thrills emanating from the women's draw before Saturday's championship match.

On the heels of her dramatic victory over MN in Paris, Evert Lloyd merely played the best Wimbledon of her life—her scores were 6-1, 6-0; 6-3, 6-0; 6-2, 6-1; 6-0, 6-4; 6-2, 6-1; 6-2, 6-0; 6-4—until the second set of the final. In fact, she had to play pluperfectly—she made just three unforced errors—to win that first set against Navratilova, who was so nervous she could hardly keep the ball in play during the warmup. But Martina had toiled long on her serve since the French—Evert Lloyd had broken her nine times in Paris—and she had resurrected her old chip returns that are so effective on grass. Navratilova took command in the second set, pounding oppressive serves and slicing returns into the corners, and Evert Lloyd's responses were easily picked off at net. Early breaks stood up in both the second and third sets, during which Evert Lloyd found herself playing catch-up.

Compared with their exciting French final, Martina's 4-6, 6-3, 6-2 victory was routine. "It's not like I was avenging myself," she said. "But I did have something to prove. I've won this thing before."

Five times before, and now a brazen, grand new men's champion has won it as well. Victory, it is said, comes at the young "like a ghoul." But if one is brave, bold and Boris Becker, one glares it down. It also helps to know the time. At Wimbledon, the clocks were all set for Boom Boom.