Okay, let's take a break from trashing Round Robin and go back to my recent visit with Andy Murray and Brad Gilbert, at Nick Bollettieri's. A day or two before that trip, I had been mulling over some of the issues raised by what seemed to be a sudden fascination with the most enigmatic of Open era champions, Bjorn Borg. I admit to either starting that particular fire or significantly throwing fuel on it by maintaining that the match of past vs. current champ I would be most interested in seeing would be Borg vs. Roger Federer.

The discussion triggered a flurry of comments on the way the game has changed since the wooden racquet era; specifically how much "faster" it's gotten. In a way, I've always felt this is a moot point, and that video isn't especially helpful. Sure, even Borg and John McEnroe (and even moreso, Chris Evert) look "slow" on tape. But the video reality is different from the ocular reality. I saw all those combatants play, and the raw, physical superiority of Borg, especially in terms of speed and quickness, was simply amazing.

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Still, when I was chatting with Andy Murray about this, he told he that he's convinced that the game has changed so much that comparisons of present players to past ones is useless. He's watched all the old tapes, and he thinks the Borg-era players simply played a different game, in terms of pace and power. The real question, I suppose, is the degree to which those players only appear to be slower, because of the difference in equipment and perhaps even the nature of video.

So, am I looking backward, through rose-colored Oakleys (from the Nostalgia line)? I don't think so.  My reaction to Borg wasn't all that different from the way some people more recently reacted to the emergence of Rafael Nadal, with his cat-like quickness, explosive power, and stamina.They eyes may fib, but they don't lie outright.

Oh, sure, equipment has changed, and court surfaces have changed (more on that in a later post). And while training and fitness programs have changed, too, the basic configuration of athletes hasn't changed all that much.

I don't believe today's players aren't that much more naturally "strong" or "fast" than the players of yore. Do you?

The X's and O's of the game certainly change - we're in the era of the New World Game, during which the transfer of information and technique has created a fundamental, universally embraced style - one that was popularized and spread by Nick Bollettieri, and perhaps personified in the game of Jim Courier. In the New World Game, you step into the court and you look to end points with two-and-three shot combinations, most often employing the forehand, with a new, special emphasis on the inside-out forehand.

What was once called "approach shots" have gone the way of the Dunlop Maxply (heh-heh-heh), replaced by "placements" - particularly forehand placements that are meant to be either winners or unreturnables. Or maybe its that ground strokes have morphed into approach shots that you aren't intending or meant to follow in to the net. Either way is fine by me.

Insert asterisk here: The Mighty Fed is, among other things, in the midst of demonstrating that the New World Game is always vulnerable to a game based in high skill and versatility, although the level of skill and versatility required to pull it off rules it out as a strategy for the vast majority of players - partly because they are products of the New World Game approach. I know, let's play "Find that Tautology!"

In any event, one thing that simply doesn't change, IMO, is the intangible: the will. In some ways, it comes down to this: A.J. Foyt's Indy race car was much slower than today's Speedway racers, but I still believe that if Foyt were racing today, he'd be just as formidable as he was back in the day. Human beings simply aren't that different from what they ever were.

This taps into one of our most agreeable running debates here at TW, whether greatness is more technique and the X's and O's than mental and emotional strength (for convenience, we frame this an Arm vs. Heart debate). And I always come down on the "heart" side, although part of having the will of a champ is being instinctively judicious enough to find the game that most effectively maximizes your chances to win. That partly explains why Borg's game was so one-dimensional. It served its purpose. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Nobody had less obvious natural talent than Evert; nobody had a game that was more beautifully designed to maximize her strengths and minimize her weaknesses, or a facility for playing the shot most likely to win her the point (rather than the approving gasp of the spectators). LLeyton Hewitt,in his heyday, came very close to having that same virtue.

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So let's get back to Borg and his rivals in the GOAT debate for a moment. Borg won his first Grand Slam title at Roland Garros in 1974; he was a child warrior of 18, playing in just his fifth Grand Slam event. The age at which he won is less impressive than the fact that he never looked back or failed to reach the fourth-round at a major starting with his successful defense in Paris the following year. This is something to both contemplate and factor into our evaluation of him. Oh, sure, you can say that Pete Sampras and the TMF needed more time to find their ideal game because they started out with more options. But that's incidental. The black-and-white reality is that nobody ever strayed less from the high standard he established with his first major win than Borg.

Borg's overall record at Grand Slam events is 141-16, for a winning percentage of 89.8. Just for fun, I calculated the career Grand Slam winning percentages of his chief rivals in the GOAT debate:

Now, feel free to check my math - I've been known to screw up numbers worse than a bakery clerk. And I'm not saying that winning percentage is all - not by any means. We admire players who have long careers, especially ones that are marred by adversity and capped with unlikely triumph (consider Sampras's final Grand Slam win, or Connors autumnal run to the U.S. Open semifinals) - careers that end up with a flurry of L's that don't amount to a hill of beans next to that one, big, last W. However,  it's also true that numbers are about as close to an objective standard of measure as you can (or want) to get.

The most noteworthy thing about these numbers is how closely bunched so many of the top players are (anyone care to crunch the percentages for, oh, Stefan Edberg? Boris Becker?). But for at that very reason, Borg's WP is more impressive than it appears. Everyone else is closely bunched together (although TMF is creating some daylight), but the disparity between Borg and everyone else clearly is the biggest one - by a relatively large margin.

I  brought this issue up with Gilbert, too, after my conversation with Murray. He listened to my rap on Borg and flatly said that Borg would have "less than zero" chance against Federer.  He added that he could think of only two players, present generation excluded, who had games that could really trouble Federer.

Aw, you don't really expect me to tell you who they are, do you? That would be no fun at all! (Answers tomorrow, guesses, educated or otherwise, welcome starting now).