The Beard Has Begun

The hotel elevator door opens and a long-haired fellow inside the car points at another long-hair standing outside it. "Say, aren't you Veyetus Jere-you-teyelus." It is Borg, inside the car, joking.

"I used to be," says Gerulaitis.

In 1977 these two quickalikes and the best of friends contested a Wimbledon semifinal that for sustained drama and brilliant shotmaking over five sets may have been the best match ever played at the All-England Club. Gerulaitis, who's 0-17 against Borg, hasn't come close since. Nonetheless, for the fourth straight year the two are practicing together. This time Gerulaitis, having gone through several coaches while in a prolonged slump, has brought along the venerated transplanted Aussie coach, Harry Hopman. "The beauty of these boys' workouts is that they get so much match play in," says Hop. "Other people might have different aims or goals when they practice, but Vitas is confident enough to go for the lines and battle just like in a tournament. This is exactly what Bjorn needs. There is a sense of urgency in their games."

The personalities of the two players couldn't be more different, and that's the attraction. They draw from each other things that they can't provide for themselves. Gerulaitis, the disco kid, begs for some of the control and discipline Borg symbolizes. In turn, Gerulaitis seems to keep Borg loose, opens him up to the social glitter and often elicits the high-pitched, soprano Borg giggle that comes as such a shock to anyone vaguely familiar with his tedious public stoicism.

"This Oakland guy, Billy Martin, he is always getting in trouble," Borg says.

"So, anyway, listen, the guy bumps umpires and, listen, throws dirt and...." Gerulaitis raps on in his staccato narrative. "So, listen, just think what would happen to us if we threw dirt on a guy?"

The Borg giggle goes on and on.

FRIDAY, JUNE 12: The Bionic Man returns. Lee Majors—whiskers, shades, snakeskin boots, six million dollar tan—shows up for Borg's first day of practice with Gerulaitis under Wimbledon conditions. Wet-on-green. "I'm third seed in this crowd," Majors says.

In a blue Saab, Bergelin, driving, operates the window like a robot: shut when moving, down at stoplights. "He must not take the breeze," Bergelin says of Borg.

Stevie Nicks wails Rhiannon from the tape cassette. "Too loud," Bergelin says.