Friday, October 3, 2003 Houston Masters - 2003 He was only a courtside spectator. Yet Kirk Douglas, the actor whose first smash movie was called "Champion" (the story of a prizefighter), also had something to do with this championship the last time the Masters graced Houston. Although it was a brief role that he played, a mere cameo, Douglas may have involuntarily tipped the exciting final toward Spanish left-hander Manolo Orantes, a rebounding 5-set triumph over surprising Wojtek Fibak, a 24-year-old Pole making his lone Masters singles appearance. It was 1976. The town was agog over its new, ultra-modern playpen, the Summit, and the eight players arrived for the seventh Masters thrilled to be showcased in such a splendid arena. A crowd of 13,500, the tournament's record at the time, settled in to watch the unexpected Fibak-Orantes showdown, which, by the fourth set, was going the Pole's way. Unexpected because the three best players on the planet that year (according to "Blinky," the ATP computer, residing at Ponte Vedra, Fla.) were American Jimmy Connors, Swede Bjorn Borg and Romanian Ilie Nastase. However, all three declined the opportunity for various reasons. Fibak had finished eighth in the race to Houston (then called the Grand Prix), barely making it. A relative newcomer on the world scene, Poland's first professional player, he was a superb volleyer, more highly regarded at doubles. His computer world ranking for 1976 was No. 14; Orantes No. 4. Orantes, 27, the "Butterfly Man from Barcelona" with a gossamer touch, had stunned defending champ Connors to win the U.S. Open of 1975. But his record in four previous Masters (1972-73-74-75) was unimpressive: 3-9. When he and Fibak sat down after the fifth game of the fourth set, Wojtek - the sole Pole in Masters history, and his country's all-time best -- was in command comfortably, 7-5, 2-6, 6-0, 4-1, and Senora Orantes was fretting. "My wife," Orantes said afterwards, "had told me it was about time I did better in the Masters." The time arrived at that moment, and Kirk Douglas, a dynamic portrayer of numerous he-men, had a calm but forceful role that, nevertheless, seemed to stagger Fibak. The actor's face appeared on high, magnified, his voice amplified as he discussed the match. This wasn't supposed to be. Although the Summit's 20-by-15 foot telescreens above the floor were a marvel at the time, a novelty that today are standard stadium equipment, some players complained about them, saying that re-plays were distracting. Thus it was agreed that the innovation would not be in use while the ball was in play. It was also agreed that none of the nation-wide PBS telecast would be seen or heard within the building. However, someone goofed in the control room, pushing the wrong button and fed a changeover game interview to the Summit crowd. So up there, larger than life, Vic Braden, a PBS commentator, was soliciting Douglas for a prediction on the outcome. The startled Fibak, hearing the actor's familiar voice, raised his eyes to behold a boyhood hero, assuring everybody that he would be the winner, "playing so well, and with a terrific lead." Douglas's wife was more cautious: "Orantes never knows when he's beaten." Fibak never recovered from that loud, emphatic endorsement. Orantes may have been heartened by the faith of Douglas's roommate. Anyway he broke Fibak's serve twice, forced a one-sided tie-breaker, and ran away with the championship, 5-7, 6-2, 0-6, 7-6 (7-1), 6-1, in 3 hours-3 minutes to earn the $ 40,000 first prize. Betrayed by his hearing, Fibak looked as though he wanted to chop off one of his own ears - as a Douglas character, the painter Vincent van Gogh, had done. Douglas had painted too cheery a word picture for him. But Wojtek didn't cop a plea, other than to say, "I admire Kirk Douglas, but…I shouldn't have let it shake my concentration." Today Fibak, a highly successful businessman based in Warsaw, is involved in a variety of ventures such as real estate, but best known as his country's foremost collector and dealer in paintings by Polish artists. (But no van Goghs.) His Warsaw gallery is a showplace of his excellent taste, both in avant garde and traditional works. He continues to play often "for fun," and dotes on his wife, Olga, and their infant daughter, Nina, a pair of beauties. At this distance in time he chuckles about Houston '76. "Orantes was finished when Douglas showed up on the screen. We looked at each other, and smiled. But Mrs. Douglas's remarks encouraged him - and she was a better prophet than her husband." That was one of two exceptionally curious happenings as the Elite Eight - Orantes, Fibak, Americans Eddie Dibbs, Roscoe Tanner, Harold Solomon, Brian Gottfried, Mexican Raul Ramirez, and the1974 champ, Argentine Guillermo Vilas -- camped in Houston 27 years ago. In the semis Orantes, with his soft angles and lobs, befuddled the "Human Grindstone," tiny Solomon, 6-4, 6-3, 6-4, while Fibak had a much tougher battle of 3 hours-44 minutes with Vilas, 6-2, 6-2, 5-7, 6-3, 8-6. During the round-robin phase, Ramirez, loser of his first two matches, was in a foul mood while opposing his doubles partner and pal Gottfried, and began acting up in the third set. Normally a fine sportsman, an All-American in his college days at Southern California, and a Wimbledon and French doubles champ with Gottfried, Raul, losing his poise, was the culprit in play-disrupting antics. Finally umpire Jack Stahr correctly evicted him, awarding the decision to Gottfried, who was leading 2-0. Amazingly, 40 minutes later Ramirez - counter to the rules -- was back on court, reinstated by tournament officials, who felt his ejection was "unfair to the crowd." He quickly lost the last four games. This was reminiscent of zany incidents in two previous Masters, 1973 and 1975, both involving the gifted "Bucharest Buffoon," Ilie Nastase. Thirty years ago in Boston Nastase, the defender, disturbed by a line call, angrily walked out of a losing round-robin match against Czech Jan Kodes - and seemingly out of the tournament and the title, since he had earlier been beaten by American Tom Gorman. But, strangely, the law was sympathetically on his side. Tournament director Jim Westhall and referee Mike Blanchard coaxed Nastase into returning. (This was prior to adoption of the Code of Conduct. Because Ilie had a lot to do with the need for such, it ought to be called the Nastase Code.) Whereupon the sleek shotmaker Nastase bounced back to beat Kodes, and Aussie John Newcombe, making it to the semis. There he beat Jimmy Connors, and, in the championship match, the Flying Dutchman, Tom Okker, retaining the title. Saved by officials who wanted the show to go on. Even that didn't measure up to 1975 in Stockholm, and a bizarre round-robin match with - get this! - two losers: Nastase and the impeccable American, Arthur Ashe. Though well ahead and winning easily, Wimbledon champ Ashe, astonishingly lost his cool, thrown off by Nastase's constant stalling and bickering with the umpire. Abruptly Arthur gathered his rackets and quit, slumping off to the dressingroom. He was followed by officials who tried to placate him, but it was no use. Referee Horst Klosterkemper thought he hit on a solution, saying, "It was in my mind to disqualify Nastase just before you walked off, Mr. Ashe. And so I do now." Too late. Ashe, knowing he'd been wrong to leave, also knew he'd thereby disqualified himself. Two losers of the same match. Unprecedented. The following day the tournament committee awarded the victory to Ashe. Unfazed, Nastase won his remaining round-robins to reach the semis, then dazzled Vilas and 19-year-old Swede Bjorn Borg in succession without losing a set for his fourth Masters prize, the record that stood for 12 years. Later it was eclipsed by Czech Ivan Lendl's five titles (1981-82, 85-86-87), and Pete Sampras's five (1991, 94, 96-97, 99). Orantes qualified for one more Masters, 1976, and won but one more match. Fibak returned for the doubles championships of 1978 and 1979. He lost both finals alongside Okker (now also a collector and dealer in fine paintings in the Netherlands) to Americans Peter Fleming and John McEnroe. Wojtek says he remains a Kirk Douglas fan. Except for that December afternoon in 1976 when the actor's approval was the voice of doom. <<<Back