Jan Kodeš was on a mission to silence the doubters. Seeded just sixth at the 1973 US Open despite holding the Wimbledon crown, he succeeded: Oddly enough for a man with three major titles already to his credit, he was the discovery of the tournament. Journalists wrote breathless accounts of his “acrobatic wizardry” and marveled at his “sixth sense” for the dimensions of the court.
“Nobody pays attention to Kodeš,” said Pancho Segura, one of the savviest tennis minds around, after the Czech squeaked through the a five-set quarter-final. “But he can win this tournament the way he returns serve.”
He nearly did.
On September 9th, the other man vying for the title also had something to prove. John Newcombe, 1967 titlist at Forest Hills and three-time champ at Wimbledon, was seeded tenth, even lower than Kodeš. Splitting his time between the circuit and his “tennis ranch” in New Braunfels, Texas, he had played only nine tournaments since the beginning of the year. He hadn’t won a title, and three times he failed to win a single match.
Bud Collins thought the mustachioed Australian was spread too thin. “Newk seems to have thought he could be the Jack Nicklaus of tennis,” he wrote, “picking his spots, giving most of his time to business interests.”
Newcombe agreed. After winning just four matches in four tournaments in Europe, then missing Wimbledon due to the boycott, he went back to the ranch and practiced furiously. (He still had time for his paying campers, as well as the occasional honored guest. One doubles partner was a Texas politician named George Bush.) When he rejoined the circuit in August, there were no more early exits.
Throughout the fortnight at Forest Hills, Newk improved with every match. Andrew Pattison had upset Ilie Năstase but was lucky to snatch a set from the Australian. Jimmy Connors looked particularly strong headed into the quarter-finals… where Newcombe straight-setted him. In Saturday’s semi-final, the ageless Ken Rosewall–seeded fifth–was little more than a target for Newcombe’s booming serves.
The record crowd of 15,241 was treated to a battle royale, a contrast in styles between Newk’s power and the nimble shotmaking of Kodeš.
The Australian struck first. Kodeš, who had finished his semi-final victory over Stan Smith less than 20 hours earlier, was understandably sluggish at the start. Newk took a routine opener, 6-4.
Then the fireworks began. The Czech broke serve in the second game of the next set. “For the next hour Kodeš played like a man possessed,” wrote Richard Evans. “When he’s in full flow, there’s nowhere to hide.” Newk had one of the strongest serves in the game, and they were coming back even faster. Kodeš recovered from impossible positions and made it look easy. “Everything Jan touched turned to gold,” said his opponent.
“There is nothing cautious,” Evans wrote, “about this man from Prague.”
Newcombe found himself in a hole, down two sets to one. It wasn’t over; he had pulled out a victory from the same position in the 1971 Wimbledon final against Smith. But Kodeš was playing even better.
The Australian didn’t have much variety in his game. There wasn’t much he could do to change his strategy. However, he did have another gear. He cranked up his second serve, the delivery that Jack Kramer called the best he had ever seen. He tightened up his volleys. Only now did Kodeš learn what Connors and Rosewall had been forced to accept: Newcombe at his best was unplayable.
The Czech wasn’t willing to admit fatigue, though he did allow that “it is hard to play semis and finals on successive days.” Whatever the cause, he no longer had the answer for everything Newk sent his way. He managed only five games in the last two sets, despite continuing to play superlative tennis. The Aussie finished him off with his 15th ace of the day.
Evans judged the match to be “an awe-inspiring performance, probably the best of Newcombe’s career.” Collins got closer to the heart of it, relaying his mid-match disbelief: “Can anybody play as well as Kodeš and lose?”
Newk had lost a bit of his trademark swagger through the frustration of his 1973 campaign. Now he had it back. He announced that he was going to get back to the top of the rankings–big talk for someone who had just been rated seventh on the inaugural ATP list and had not been considered the top dog for six years. No more long spells at the ranch: He was going all-out to establish his supremacy.
Kodeš hadn’t managed to upset both of his predecessors as Wimbledon champions, but he certainly left Forest Hills with more respect around the game. People learned to stop underestimating Newcombe, too. He had never been the top seed at Wimbledon, despite winning the thing three times. By the time the 1974 Championships rolled around, Newk stood atop the ranking table, and even the tradition-bound committee of the All-England Club agreed.
The man with the mustache was number one.
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This post is part of my series about the 1973 season, Battles, Boycotts, and Breakouts. Keep up with the project by checking the TennisAbstract.com front page, which shows an up-to-date Table of Contents after I post each installment.
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