His Own Worst Enemy

The lefthander was still feeling his way through the first set, playing well but not brilliantly with the deft, almost effortless touch that is the trademark of his game, when suddenly it happened, and in an instant, there he was again--Peck's bad boy of tennis. After blowing a key shot, John McEnroe hurled his racquet. The offending piece of equipment landed at the feet of McEnroe's surprised opponent, Hie Nastase, the acknowledged prince of the tennis temper tantrum.

Whether his shots were dropping for winners or thudding into the net, McEnroe continued to pout his way through the match, projecting the air of a sullen young man seething with resentment at a world arrayed against him. He once demanded of Umpire Mike Blanchard, 71: "Did you see that one? Can you see that far, Mike?" Smirking broadly, Nastase cleverly exploited the situation. At one point he waited for the crowd to stop booing McEnroe, then declared: "He's only 19."

Game, set and match for Nastase in the contest of theatrics, but unfortunately for the dashing vulgarian, they were playing tennis with a ball last week in the sultry heat of Montego Bay, Jamaica. And McEnroe, once he settled down, was magnificent, defeating Nastase in three sets, his first tournament victory over the old campaigner. For his two hours of work at the World Championship Tennis Challenge Cup, McEnroe earned $10,000, raising his earnings to over $200,000 since he dropped out of Stanford University just six months ago, gave up washing his own socks and turned pro with a vengeance.

The money, and the hours, would be hard to beat, but McEnroe had other good reasons to be pleased. On the previous weekend, his temper well under control, he had led the U.S. team to victory over the British in the Davis Cup matches in Rancho Mirage, Calif, winning two singles without losing a set and overwhelming Buster Mottram in the key contest. No one in the 68 years of competition for the Cup had ever taken two singles matches so decisively in the finals. The win was the first in six years for the American team, which has been shunned by top pros, such as Jimmy Connors, who prefer to play elsewhere. (The Cup pays only $2,000, plus expenses.) But McEnroe thoroughly enjoyed the role of patriot athlete. "When you see your flag and they play your national anthem, it's a little different," he says. And McEnroe also liked the sensation of contributing to a team victory: "That's really a nice feeling. There's not really that much of that kind of thing in tennis any more."

There sure isn't. The game is dominated by strong-willed individualists, led by the fiery Connors, 26, and the icy Bjorn Borg, 22, his great Swedish rival, who compete in a series of tournaments round the world for big money that is getting bigger all the time. Borg has earned $661,000, Connors $519,000 and Vitas Gerulaitis $425,000 to date this year.

What is surprising is that McEnroe has come so far so fast matched against such opposition. He has beaten the likes of Roscoe Tanner, Adriano Panatta, Eddie Dibbs and Corrado Barazzutti and on one glorious occasion even managed to knock off Borg, 6-3, 6-4, in Stockholm, of all places. Still, quite understandably, McEnroe has a long way to go before he can be ranked with Borg. Or Connors, whom he has never beaten and who destroyed him in the semifinals of last September's U.S. Open. McEnroe likes to have some fun paraphrasing what Connors used to intone about hunting down Borg: "I will follow him to the ends of the earth."

Son of a successful Manhattan lawyer, McEnroe played plenty of tennis as a boy, but he was not raised in the kind of hothouse, year-round pressure to succeed that produced Connors or Chris Evert. He even went out for soccer at school. Yet tennis was obviously his game--that touch was always there, that feel for the ball that cannot be taught--and he made a superbly dramatic entrance to the big time: gaining the semifinals at Wimbledon in 1977 at the age of 18, the youngest male ever to do so, before losing to Connors.

For all his sudden success, he had his pout even then, and his tendency to pop off. McEnroe on Paris: "It would be a nice place if you took all the people out of the city." McEnroe on London: "I would go sightseeing but I don't think there's much to see in this place." But beneath the brashness and the bravado there seemed to be a nice kid struggling to get out. There still does. At Montego Bay last week, fans interrupted McEnroe regularly off court to get his autograph and his response was often downright embarrassment. He rarely said thank you to those who congratulated him, not because he is insensitive but because he is shy and still does not know how to handle fame.

Lamar Hunt, the soft-spoken Texas mogul behind the pros' World Championship Tennis, feels that McEnroe's rudeness on court is really his way of goading himself on, a theory that the subject confirms. But the technique sometimes works against him. After beating Nastase last week, McEnroe faced Peter Fleming, who is ranked only 27th. And although Fleming is his best friend on the circuit, McEnroe nearly picked a fight during the match, lost his concentration and was whipped in three sets.

The old pros laud McEnroe's ability to disguise his shots and alter his style. Predicts Borg:

"He's going to be one of the most dangerous players next year." But there remains that worry about the rookie's uncertain temper. "He needs to learn some humor," advises Nastase. McEnroe, who has been told to straighten up by his father, realizes his shortcomings. "I'm still in the process of learning, of trying to forget about the spectators and the linesmen," he says. "I do want to change."

The southpaw with the curly brown hair, the baby face and the marvelously balanced game will have to if he is to realize the potential so evidently there.

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