8701310344
DETROIT FREE PRESS
870627
Saturday, June 27, 1987
METRO FINAL
1C
Photo Associated Press
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
AUSTRALIAN UNDERDOG BITES BECKER
THIS 'DAVID' USED TENNIS RACKET
WIMBLEDON -- He was staring at his racket the way David must have stared
at his slingshot. Did he really do that? Did he really just pull off the
biggest upset in the history of Wimbledon, beating defending champion Boris
Becker, in the second round? Glory? History? Infamy? All that with this little
stringy weapon? Whoo, boy. What should he do with the racket now?
"I guess I just sort of flipped it, huh?" Peter Doohan would recall. "The
crowd was going crazy and I felt like they wanted me to do something
spectacular. I thought of throwing it into the stands but I decided against it
-- I figured I might need it for the next round."
He laughed. The tennis gods laughed. And then they cried. Tell us your
name, pal. Then tell us what you're doing here? This is a guy ranked 70th in
the world, a guy who has won one tournament in his life (and that was three
years ago) a guy who has been knocked out in the first round of every other
Wimbledon he's tried and who struggled to get past somebody named Alex
Antonitsch just two days earlier.
This was the man who made Boom Boom go bye-bye? The man who shot down the
blond hero, the No. 1 seed, the ace who'd won this thing two years in a row?
Boris Becker. This guy beat him? What's his name? Doohan? Rhymes with "Who
Can?" Rhymes with "You Can?"
In four sets?
How fitting he didn't know what to do with his racket.
Nobody knew what to do with him either.
"What happened?" the stunned media asked Becker in the press room afterward.
After all, Becker had been heavily favored coming into this event, despite his
age (19), despite his dropping of coach Gunther Bosch, despite the recent
tumult that had strummed his personal strings.
"I didn't think Doohan could play like he did today," Becker answered
honestly. "I kept saying 'OK, one time he's going to crack. He can't volley
like this, he can't serve like this, he can't play the way he did . . . One
time he's going to crack and I will win easy."
No cracks. This was solid marble tennis by Doohan, a match where every
move seemed like destiny, where every serve seemed flawless, where every
volley seemed to sniff out Becker then fly away from his reach. A nobody
beating a superbody? In the second round? It was the sort of stuff that
inspires prayer, that makes you believe in rabbits' feet and and crickets
wishing upon a star. "Close your eyes, hit everything in?" mumbled Becker's
manager, Ion Tiriac, assessing Doohan's play. "Congratulations."
What more could he say? Here was Becker breaking Doohan to win the second
set and Doohan coming right back to break Becker in the next game.
Here were the two men tied in the fourth set, three games apiece, and
Doohan puts three shots at Becker's feet, and the defending champion can't
even hit two of them and Doohan wins.
Here was double-match point, Becker hitting a backhand wide, it's out, it's
over, the champion is gone.
No cracks.
Congratulations.
"He was like magic," Becker said, sighing. "He was guessing where I would
hit the ball and he was always guessing correct. If he guessed right, I hit to
the right, if he guessed lob, I hit a lob. The guy just couldn't miss."
No cracks. Two years ago Becker was the unseeded player who rose to
unbelievable heights. This time, he looked down from his perch and, as if
looking at the gas gauge reading empty on his car, kept anticipating a
Doohan collapse. Consequently, he held back on the winning shots he normally
uses against tougher opponents, instead opting for hittable shots Doohan
should have put in the net or hit out. The collapse never came. The defeat
came instead.
And it hurt. This was the first match the West German heartthrob had ever
lost at Wimbledon (excluding an injury default to Bill Scanlon in 1984), the
first time he had ever faced the press here without a silver cup in hand or
on the way. The winner in 1986 and 1985, he was dubbed the boy-king of grass
courts, and the shock waves of defeat had yet to reach his young heart. He
answered questions calmly, rationally, admitting that "tomorrow I will
probably feel much worse."
And that may be good for him. Becker, who is level-headed enough, has
nonetheless become ridiculously huge in West Germany for his Wimbledon
success. As long as he was unbeatable here, the other flaws in his game (no
titles on clay, no other Grand Slam championships) were happily overlooked.
But tennis is nothing if not consistency, and perhaps Becker fans will be
reminded of that with this defeat.
"I am not immortal" Becker said Friday, a thought he seems to accept more
easily than those around him.
And a thought that Doohan will be reminded of soon enough. Face it. How
many mornings will he be able to wake up saying he just knocked off the No. 1
tennis attraction in the world? Doohan already is 26 years old. He is not
particularly well- known in his native Australia, and he played four years at
the University of Arkansas without causing many tennis writers to come and
visit. There is little doubt he is not of Becker's caliber. The two men played
two weeks ago at Queen's Club and Becker won handily.
And so what? All that counts today is the count from Friday, and the
numbers added up to upset, huge upset, the kind that had reporters scrambling
for a comparison. What was it like? Laver losing to Taylor in 1970? Connors to
Curren in 1983? Pasarell over Santana in 1967?
It was like none of them. This was bigger. This was more historic. The
second round? Never since they've allowed professionals in this tournament has
the defending champion been dismissed so early.
"People are naturally going to think that it was just a great win and we'll
never hear from Peter Doohan again," said Doohan afterward. "I don't hold it
against them for thinking that.
"Hey, when I drew Becker in the second round, I thought 'Here's another bad
draw,' and started thinking about plane reservations out of here . . . "
He can stay a few days longer, now. After all, he still has his racket.
So Wimbledon loses its No. 1 seed. Boris goes bye. And the David who slew
him tries his best to make people remember his name. That's, uh, Peter, not
David.
Peter Doohan.
Number 70.
With a bullet.
"What about your next match?" someone asked him in the crowded press room
afterward.
"To tell you the truth," said Doohan, "I didn't even think past the Boris
Becker round. I think I play Leif Shiras."
Oh.
Who?
CUTLINE
Australia's Peter Doohan raises his arms in victory Friday.
Boris Becker pauses for a breather against Peter Doohan