by Robert Philip
A happy 40th birthday to Stefan Edberg, perhaps the nicest man to wield a tennis racket (it is no coincidence that it is the Swede's name which graces the ATP annual sportsmanship award, a trophy he twice collected while world No 1.)
Now living with his wife, Annette, and children, Emily and Christopher, in the countryside outside Vaxjo, Edberg won six grand slam singles titles (two Wimbledon, two US, two Australian), the same tally as Boris Becker without attracting - or courting - the same level of celebrity.
No on-court histrionics, no off-court scandals, Edberg was forever the consummate gentleman. "Some players want to be big stars and act like they think big stars should act," Edberg once told me. "I'd rather not be known by anybody. But it would be pretty boring if tennis was populated only by Stefan Edbergs. As a public person you should always reflect once or twice before doing or saying something. To say nothing is better than too much." Stefan Edberg: superstar without a super-ego.
by Emma Westwood
Stefan's name in a comedy. An Australian comedian, Michael Chamberlin, represented a show in which he gives a comical interpretation of the tennis world
There's going to come a time when people realise Michael Chamberlin is as talented a comedian as the Dave Hugheses and Wil Andersons of this world.
Playing in a small room at the Melbourne Town Hall, this Skithouse regular betrays his boyish appearance - accentuated by a trademark lisp- with a sharp, intelligent and quick-witted mind. The irregular rhythm of Chamberlin's jokes and the unexpected punchlines give his performance a refreshing unpredictability.
For this show, Chamberlin has mined the comic-rich quarry of professional tennis, which is full of characters and caricatures some of us may have forgotten - almost. Even though his hero, Stefan Edberg, features in the title, it is the larrikin Frenchman, Henri Leconte, who provides the best fodder for laughs.
from Times Online
Interview by Barry Flatman
Roger Federer, newly crowned Indian Wells champion and world number one, talks about his relationship with the Edberg-Becker rivalry
TEARS and Wimbledon finals: I guess for me, after failing to keep a grip on my emotions as Sue Barker interviewed me minutes after collecting my first title on Centre Court, the two will be forever linked.
Yet I'm informed by my parents that I was crying about the outcome of a previous final 15 years before my 2003 triumph. The reason? My first sporting hero, Boris Becker, had been beaten.
To a six-year-old, defeat all seemed so tragic. How was I to know that Becker would go on to win his third Wimbledon title a year later? Or that he would also collect the champion's trophies at the Australian Open twice and the US Open? Or that five-and-a-half years after he first threw himself to victory on that most beautiful of tennis lawns, he would finally become the world's No 1 ranked tennis player? I hadn't even started playing tennis back then, but I knew that where I came from, Boris was everybody's favourite player.
by Jim Courier
In this nice article, former world number one Jim Courier recalls his four set winning final at the Australian Open 1992 against Stefan Edberg.
It's 7am and I have been awake for an hour, but have yet to get out of bed. The men's final of the Australian Open is starting in about seven hours and I have already hit hundreds of winners in my mind's eye.
My ball toss is perfect, the backhand passing shot spotless and the forehand, my real weapon, is on fire. I would make time speed up so those shots were real instead of imagined, if I could.
I can't, so I do the next best thing - continue to visualise. My coach and I have a scheduled appointment with the Yarra post-victory and I desperately want to attend. It is 1992.
There will be millions of people around the world turning on their television sets to see Stefan Edberg and me go to battle for the title. Hundreds of journalists will record the result for their readers to peruse the next morning. More than 15,000 spectators will be at Melbourne Park to watch the match live. None of that means anything to me. There is only one person that is on my mind - my opponent. I am otherwise unaware.