John McEnroe is Serious: A book review

Jul 1981: John McEnroe of the USA returns a shot during his match against Bjorn Borg in the finals of the 1981 Lawn Tennis Championships at the All-England Club in Wimbledon, England. McEnroe won the match 4-6, 7-6, 7-6, 6-4.

Like any normal tennis fan, I’ve heard a lot about him.

He was one of the protagonists in the greatest Wimbledon Championship Match of all time. Greatest match till 2008, that is. He was the lefty with the unique serving action and masterful skills at the net. He was the champion who had been refused membership in the All England Club due to ‘bad conduct’. And his on-court tirades were legendary. He was the original Superbrat. I’ve always felt that if I had followed his fortunes, I would have loved to hate John McEnroe; that I would have found it impossible to connect with him as a fan to a sportsman. In spite of this, or maybe because of this, when I found a tattered copy of his autobiography ‘Serious‘ lying around at a friend’s place, it was an instinctive reaction to pick it up. And I wasn’t disappointed.

The book is written in an engaging, frank and friendly tone. None of the distant formality of Sampras’ ‘A Champion’s Mind’, but at the same time, none of the excruciating introspection of Agassi’s ‘Open’. Of course, the expected topics are discussed. And a few insightful thoughts emerge on the international tennis world of three-and-a-half decades ago.

His explanation for his temper doesn’t proceed much further than the simplistic “I am a New Yorker”, but his description of those moments when the fuse blows on the tennis court are well articulated, and make for good reading. Each such episode is followed by a conscious note on how he regrets the outbursts now (sometimes, even immediately after the incident), but always balanced by the acknowledgement that his temper was a key ingredient to getting him to the top of the tennis hierarchy. Interestingly, his best attempt at explaining his memorable on-court tirades is the me-against-the-world attitude he always seemed to carry into a tennis match. And this, according to him, was aggravated by the very individual nature of professional tennis. Maybe all he needed was a team-mate to drill some sense into him. Maybe that’s why he loved the Davis Cup so much.

The vague feeling I’ve always had of vibrant personalities dominating the tennis scene of the late 70’s just got strengthened after reading this book. After all, there was the blonde Ice Man, Bjorn Borg, with women at his beck and call. There was the even blonder Vitas Gerulaitis and his rock-star lifestyle. There was Guillermo Vilas, spouting poetry all around. There was Jimmy Connors with his mood swings and a fiery temper of his own. And to top it all, there was John ‘Superbrat’ McEnroe. Today’s male tennis generation does seem to pale in comparison, with players like Federer and Nadal being the squeakiest clean sportsmen possible, and shining role models for kids everywhere. I guess we should be grateful for that, although a part of me does root for the bad boys in sport. Perhaps this is a commentary on the requirements of the modern game itself. It is hard to imagine a ‘personality’ breaking through and establishing himself at the top of the tennis ladder today, running on pure talent and passion alone. The emphasis on conformance, discipline and efficiency has put paid to that, which may not necessarily be an entirely good thing. But that is a discussion for another day.

ohn McEnroe (left) of the USA and Bjorn Borg of Sweden chat before their match during the Honda Challenge for ATP Senior Tour of Champions

Predictably, McEnroe’s description of his tennis relationships is quite complex. His strong admiration, bordering on fervent adoration, of Borg is in striking contrast to his relationship with Connors, which was cool at best, stormy at worst. And the closer the person is, the more the upheavals in the ties, as with his long-time doubles partner Peter Fleming which he calls “one of the most complicated relationships in my life”. Once again, it seems to be the high pressure at the pinnacle of an individual sport which is to blame.

But perhaps, the book is most enjoyable when he personalizes events and explains the inner workings of his mind and, in the process, allows us to relate to him as a normal everyday man rather than a tennis icon. One of my favourite parts of the book comes towards the end, through an anecdote in which the connection between sport and the ordinary fan is brought out. It might probably be also because it concerns one of my favourite sporting moments. 2001, Goran Ivanisevic is at the climax of his magical run at Wimbledon, and McEnroe is in the commentator’s role with the BBC. McEnroe’s personal life hasn’t been very smooth, and he is worried about his wife whom he hasn’t seen for quite some time. But a truly special sporting moment can serve to alter your perspective on all aspects of your life.

“Goran threw himself to the grass and looked up to heaven when he won the fifth set and his first Wimbledon. I knew exactly how he felt.

I flew back to New York that night with a smile on my face the whole way. Patty flew from Johannesburg the next afternoon. The moment she walked in the door, my eyes filled with tears. I had never loved her so much.

This, I thought, was what it was all about.”