Bjorg Borg In The Eyes Of Pro Boxer Michael Olajide

Michael Olajide boxed professionally from 1981-1991. The Canadian from Vancouver, who later relocated to New York City, became a top middleweight contender and fought for the world title twice, both times losing decisions to Frank Tate at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas in 1987, and to Thomas “Hitman” Hearns in 1991 at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City.

After stopping boxing with a record of 27-5 (19 KOs) because of a severe eye injury suffered in sparring, “The Silk” became a very successful fitness trainer and guru in New York City and Los Angeles, also he co-authored the 2013 book, “Sleekify!The Supercharged No-Weights Workout to Sculpt and Tighten Your Body in 28 Days.”

He has also written about boxing for various boxing magazines and contributed to the Hollywood films Ali and Black Dahia.

Olajide also found an interest in tennis sparked by the arresting athleticism and auras of Bjorn Borg and Steffi Graf. He was kind enough to write this feature of his observations of the mighty Viking of Sweden Bjorn Borg…

BJORN BORG By Michael Olajide

My memory of Bjorn Borg has not dulled over time. Watching him ”fight” remains so vivid within my mind. The mesmerization I remember as clear as yesterday. In stops and starts Bjorn’s movement was like liquid silk. His strokes with his racket were as a poet’s feathered quill.  Strong punctuations and flourishing serifs. 

I couldn’t say that back then. I didn’t have the diction. But isn’t that exactly what speechless means anyway? 

With Bjorn, you just knew you were witnessing a once in a generation type talent. 

Bjorn had the aura of a person without any hangups. Safe to really like.

In 1967, after refusing the draft, the magical footwork of Muhammad Ali had disappeared from the athletic world. Quite possibly only to reappear again in 1974, reincarnated in the smooth movement of Bjorn Borg.

When he volleyed from the baseline, he was hardly ever caught flatfooted. All reflexes. He never tired. Just like “The Greatest” himself. Bjorn’s footwork brought him, or always appeared to take him, to the perfect position of where he needed to be. It seemed to me he never appeared to fall short of hitting the ball. Innately he knew he could get there… and when he could not, he would not. 

By today’s standards his body seemed to belie his power. And like a boxer, Bjorn’s upper-back featured tightly sprung muscle, yet his core was slender and taut. As taut as the tape that wraps around the handle of his Donnay tennis racquet. His legs, long and lean as a springbok, also provided him the same speed, power and agility. Not the typical body. And that’s one of the reasons why he was not a typical player of tennis.

I can’t speak to the technical abilities of a tennis pro. But I can tell you it takes a million brain cells to perfect a stroke… as it does to perfect a punch… and then comes the time when it has to be perfect enough to win five straight Wimbledon titles. Which it did, for Bjorn. 

Agility. Dexterity. Power. Speed. Balance. Focus. Stamina. Athletic Vision. Determination. To be the legend he is, those talents Bjorn possessed had to be, not inessential.

Bjorn was devoid of emotion? CyBorg? No. It benefits the “fighter” to keep any discomfort, hid. Best to process that emotion into an energy one can really use. Which he did.

No obvious tension. You wouldn’t know it to look at him. Athletics always appears effortless when movement comes from the three cores. Your brain. Your heart. Your midsection.

It was the unacknowledged comfort that comes with the repetition of movement. 

In the 70’s most men that played tennis had bodies like Olympic milers. Their physiques seemed thin, yet nondescript. You would only recognize their sinewy and sleek muscle if you were to meet them in person. Their bodies dedicated to 100% of tennis. The actual playing of it and not to the “off hours” training regiment of an Olympic lifter for example. They understood things in a way today’s tennis players may not… Skill was the attribute most in demand. They calculated the angles, the bounce, the top spin, the nuances… they adapted to their opponent. And the one that adapted the fastest, to their prey’s “uniquities”, generally won. 

The hunt wasn’t as much about the power of the rifle that can kill from a mile away. It was about your ability. Your instincts. Identifying the foot print. The scent in the air… Having to make the kill by hand. And having enough strength to bring your “trophy” back home without help. 

To be unbothered. The ability to see your goal that clearly, surely cannot be taught. It resides within your nature. And every time you compete in anything, it’s your nature you are really doing battle with. Certain opponents become archetypes that have always been difficult for you to defeat. But when you become aware of that… and your habit, your intent becomes that much more clear. You can perform exactly the way you were meant to perform, and that’s how you become great. Through mastery and control of oneself… not your opponent.

Borg accomplished this.

On the outside, Bjorn was a scientist. Methodical. Calculating. Patient. He knew how it was going to play out if the pace of play continued at the rate that it did. That is what I loved about watching him. 

Not a wrinkle of a smile or frown on his face… Yet within, his mind churning like a Berserker. Wielding his racquet like the most precise of axes. 

The contradiction: On the surface a placid cold blue lake. But just beneath the surface, that is where the fire was. Where the fight was. 

One couldn’t help but think how perfectual his life must be. You see him and the way the crowd of females fawned/magnetized to him… right away you think “Shampoo” Warren Beatty… 

“American Gigolo” Richard Gere. Corporate, global/acceptance is next. Except 3,413 Nautical miles away from NYC, is Stockholm, Sweden. Thats where he was born and the reality being, to accomplish what he did in his ten-year pro career, he had to have shown monk-like dedication to the sport. A love for tennis unrivaled. Or a necessity. That’s the only way you can get that good so young, seventeen, and flame out so young, 26. 

A loss of passion for the sport is the cited reason for him retiring… and you know he must’ve been fighting the feeling of needing to stop for at least two years before that. That in itself is a movie. How one loses passion for your profession, yet still motivate’s oneself to compete and beat, the best in your sport for two years? It’s like knowing your relationship is over but staying together “for the kids.” 

I watched when he lost to John McEnroe… and without knowing he retired, I just stopped watching tennis all together. It was strange. It was like my unconscious mind knew. It wasn’t explainable. He disappeared from the airwaves and new adventures take precedence. 

The headband made him iconic. It was a beacon amongst a sea of distraction. But the headband signaled, Bjorn’s brand. It pinned his long blond hair that waived in the air, out of his eyes and to the side of his head. Like a white flag in search of truce, except you misinterpreted the flag. There would never be surrender. 

They tried to weaponize his look… the same look if they tried today, he’d be a billionaire. But it happens. Many greats are before their time… and that’s why they’re great. 

Bjorn, means “bear” in Norwegian.  As bears go, 5’11 and 160lbs, may not be considered particularly grizzly… but his pound for pound strength is like that of tensile steel. 

Borg, means “stronghold.” All physicalities are limited. Bjorn’s true stronghold was his mind… never relenting… never fatiguing. Attrition, is a weapon. 

All things beautiful are contradictions.

Check out the new book “Facing Bjorn Borg” by Scoop Malinowski

More info about Michael Olajide

Bjorn Borg · boxing · Michael Olajide

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