Secret fires ignite deep inside a Nordic Bambi;Stefan Edberg;Tennis
SIMON BARNES
London Times TUE 05 JUL 1988
There are fires that burn perpetually, deep beneath the surface of the earth.
This fact is not always easy to accept, I know, particularly on a chilly, windy
day on the centre court. But I believe that the subterranean fires exist: David
Attenborough told me so.
It is also true that there are fires that burn deep inside the Swedish psyche.
I find this even harder to believe normally: but Tony Pickard, coach of Stefan Edberg,
told us this was so a couple of days ago. One just had to take it on
trust.
We Brits find it hard to understand just about any sort of foreigner. The
further South, the more we typecast the people as hysterical, irrational types.
We talk about their ``fiery temperament'' disparagingly.
But we seem to find the Swedes and the rest of the Nordic types even more
confusing. We talk about their lack of fire: and we mean it disparagingly. The
nicest nickname Bjorn Borg ever had was ``the ice-Borg''. His calmness,
politeness, and utter relentlessness won him much admiration but less affection
than even that rascal Jimmy Connors gets.
Edberg has all the Swedish traits we Brits most completely fail to understand.
Where Becker plays up to his irrepressibly boyish self-image, Edberg seems to
play up to his own blandness. Many players make more waves by losing in the
quarters than Edberg has by winning.
You have to dig pretty deep if you want to lay your hand on the earth's
subterranean fires. And the Wimbledon final against Becker yesterday was a
profound excavation of the nature of Stefan Edberg. Edberg started the game
like a train, but unfortunately a train we all know too well: the one that
breaks down round about Watford Junction.
Becker then won five games off the reel, looking as strong as you could
imagine. ``It's like Tyson against Bambi,'' someone said to me. Edberg,
long-legged, and endearingly fragile-looking, did not seem to me to have the
stuff of champions.
But we Brits cannot read Swedes at all. The fires were there all right:
smouldering away, without blinding or dazzling any one: but hot enough to
consume Becker. ``He was more psyched up than me,'' Becker said afterwards this
from the master of stoked-up on-court aggression.
For it is Edberg's mental toughness that has always been in question when his
claims to greatness have been considered. ``I never really gave him a chance,''
Edberg said after the dispatch of Becker. ``After the second set, I knew I
could win. I felt I couldn't miss the ball. I was hitting big returns, I was
making trouble for him.
``I never had it in my mind to give up, not until the last point,'' Edberg
continued. From just about anyone else anyone not Swedish this would have
sounded insufferably bullish. From Edberg it sounded rather charming.
He feels he has acquired more and more mental strength as Wimbledon has gone
on (and on). He survived his first round four-set examination by Forget, and,
crucially, his semi-final against Mecir. After Mecir had twisted him like a
pretzel for two sets, Edberg won in five: ``That gave me confidence, that made
me feel very strong.
``I felt I would never give ... and I did it today. Mental strength, well, I
proved something to myself. And to other people. Before, I have hit
double-faults on important points. I never thought about that today. And by the
end, he didn't know what to do and that made me feel even better.'' Again, no
bullishness. This was said with a glowingly happy modesty.
Edberg is a man happy to have risen without trace, happy to live in Kensington
rather than Monte Carlo as an expatriate Swede should. ``That's not me,'' he
said.
``Well, Stefan, do you think Wimbledon will change your life?''
``I don't know. It hasn't changed so far.'' That is a Swedish joke, by the
way. And it will be hard to avoid changing his life, for all that, Edberg is a
devout believer that ``you make your own problems''. It is those that can solve
them too that have the seeds of long-lasting greatness, as the previous Swedish
fellow to win Wimbledon knew.
Edberg was asked if the cheery support of the centre court made him feel like
an adopted Brit. He laughed: ``I'm always going to be Swedish.'' Of that I have
no doubt.