The Beard Has Begun

Later, in the lobby, the same reporter approaches Borg with his requests. "For sure, no problem," Borg says. Honest. Borg told the journalist dat.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 10: Superstition envelops the Borg family like the shroud of a Swedish winter. In 1979 Borg's father, Rune, and his 72-year-old grandfather, Martin Andersson, were fishing off their private island of Kattilo while listening to a radio broadcast of the French final between Borg and Victor Pecci. After Borg's grandfather spit once, simultaneous with a Borg point, he continued to spit into the sea for the duration of the match and arrived home with a sore throat. Borg won in four sets.

That same year at Wimbledon, Borg's mother, Margarethe, eating candy for good luck in the competitors' stand, spit out the sweet when Borg reached triple match point in the final against Roscoe Tanner. When Tanner rallied to deuce, Margarethe fetched the candy off the grimy floor and put it back into her mouth. Borg won.

The elder Borgs go to the French only in even years, to Wimbledon only in odd ones—purely out of superstition. Likewise, the habits of their son. Borg has his rackets strung by only one man, Mats Laftman, in Stockholm. (During the two weeks of Paris this year Borg broke strings in 52 rackets. "My new record," he says.) Before each match Borg must have his tennis bag packed just so. He must have his 10 rackets lined up in descending order of "ping"—or tightness of tension on the strings. Mariana calls Borg's testing system the night before a match "a harpsichord recital—the music of the spheres." He must have a car with a stereo radio and must take the same road over the Hammersmith Bridge to Wimbledon. He must sleep 10 hours nightly, preferably with one of his hands under his head. "For relaxation," he says. "A productive stereotype must not be changed." The beard starts exactly four days before the All-England Championships. Then there's the Cumberland Club.

Guillermo Vilas brought Borg to the small, 1,000-member professional men's club in Hampstead in 1976. There Borg sparred with Vilas and Adriano Panatta and toiled two hours a day on his serve. He shifted his stance to correct an errant toss, the change enabling him to hit the ball out front. Slowly he gained rhythm, power, accuracy. And he won. "It is so private here," Borg says. "You pass the club and you can't see they even have courts. This is so good."

The resident stewards have retired since that magical beginning, but many of the reliables remain: Bill Blake, the club pro; Pepe, the groundsman; Peggy Kay, the nice woman who fixes Borg's lunch. Often Bergelin has words with Pepe over the playability of the constantly rained-on grass. But seldom does Borg's menu change: meats, salad, bread, coffee and a horrible drink concocted of black-currant syrup and carbonated lemonade. Borg swigs the stuff by the quart. "It helps my backhand," he says, grinning.

The workout is long and exhausting. Borg practices with Bergelin for five hours. The champion rallies, serves and volleys, gets accustomed to the surface. The session is interrupted only by two hours for rest and lunch. Mariana has a stomach virus and leaves. Bergelin, 56, a three-time quarterfinalist at Wimbledon, rips apart two nasty blisters on his racket hand. It is Bergelin's birthday. "Blisters and champagne," says Borg.

THURSDAY, JUNE 11: An overnight deluge has left the Cumberland courts under water and Bergelin out of sorts. It is always a scramble to get court time in London. During storm tides on the Thames everyone hustles indoors to the Vanderbilt Club in central London. The Vanderbilt is the only place Borg is likely to see any of his tour brethren. He practices twice here today.

Most players strike a delicate balance in the fortnight before Wimbledon, playing a tournament one week and practicing the other. John McEnroe, for instance, will win Queens on Sunday for the third year in a row. Borg gets his competitive edge by playing—and winning—all those matches in Paris. What he needs in London, then, isn't tests but time.

All official entrants are allowed to practice three days at Wimbledon. Former champions are welcomed any day. But everyone's playing time is limited, almost nonexistent in fact. And nobody is permitted on the Centre and No. 1 courts where Borg plays all his matches. So, the Holder makes only a couple of token practice appearances before the opening of the tournament.