50 years later, ATP Wimbledon boycott remains major tipping point moment 

You want to see rugged individualism in action? Look no further than contemporary professional tennis. Let athletes in team sports fall in line under a coach, travel together, live and die collectively in the cauldron of competition. Not in tennis. Though the pros these days can afford to travel with bigger support teams than ever, each player continues to operate as a lone wolf, accountable to his or her own desires and needs.

So imagine what it must have taken for 81 of the best men’s tennis players in the world to collectively boycott Wimbledon. But 50 years ago, that’s precisely what happened. Those who skipped out on the 1973 edition of The Championships included just about every top male in the world. Among the most notable were the men who’d won the singles title the last six years—Stan Smith, John Newcombe, and Rod Laver, as well as such prominent contenders as Ken Rosewall and Arthur Ashe.

“As far as I knew, it was the first time any athletes in any sport had voted, on principle, to withdraw from their championship of the world,” wrote Ashe in the June 19, 1973 entry of Portrait in Motion, his diary-like book. “I could hardly believe what we had done.”

Even a half-century later, this remains tennis’ definitive labor struggle, a conflict that so significantly changed the game that it would be unimaginable these days.

In the spring of 1973, a player named Nikki Pilic, representing what was then Yugoslavia, had given his national association advance notice that he might not be available to play a Davis Cup tie due to a potential conflict in his schedule. When that turned out to be the case, Pilic was immediately penalized. His national association demanded a suspension by the International Lawn Tennis Federation (ILTF), not simply from Davis Cup, but from all other events. At the time, that would have meant Pilic was unable to play Roland Garros. But a few bureaucratic snafus triggered a delay. Next came the Italian Open. And yet again, Pilic was allowed to continue playing.

Meanwhile, the Association of Tennis Players (ATP) pondered how it should look out for one of its own. The good news was that this was tennis’ first full-fledged players association. “We weren’t under the control of the national associations anymore,” said Cliff Drysdale, the ATP’s first president. The bad news was that the ATP had only been formed in September 1972 and had yet to truly establish itself as a significant power in the rapidly shifting tennis landscape.

And so, as the Pilic case twisted in the air, all roads led to Wimbledon. Would Pilic be banned from tennis’ most prestigious tournament simply because he’d opted not to play Davis Cup? Players had previously been suspended from majors by the powers-that-be, with no chance to advocate for themselves. But now that the players had organized themselves, what would happen this time? “Ban him, lose us all,” wrote Ashe on June 11, 1973. “Tennis is exactly a century old, and this, at last, will be the moment when the players stand up for themselves.”

Alas, a struggle between players and rulers that’s mind-boggling to think of now was regarded very differently in those days. The reasons go back many decades, to how the world’s best tennis players were customarily treated by the amateur officials who ran the sport, in ways that were often capricious and scarcely rigorous. “People had no idea how suppressed the players were,” said Drysdale.

Tennis is exactly a century old, and this, at last, will be the moment when the players stand up for themselves. Arthur Ashe, 1973

Prior to 1968, the vast majority of world class players were amateurs. The few who opted to become professionals earned money, but were banned from such prestigious tournaments as Wimbledon, Roland Garros, the US Championships, and the Australian Championships.

Meanwhile, the amateurs were at the mercy of an environment that treated them with a mix of patronization and disdain. To travel the world, a player had to be endorsed and was often financially supported by his national association. Every country had its political infrastructure, nations in many cases led by committees of volunteers who ran tournaments, determined national rankings, and often unilaterally decided which tournaments a player could enter. Australians played many weeks of exhibition-like matches within the country before they headed overseas. Americans were allowed to play away from the U.S. for a limited period. Naturally, participation in Davis Cup was mandatory.

Compensation was both minimal and random. Some tournaments gave money under-the-table, a sliding scale based on that particular player’s marquee value. There were also various so-called “expense” fees.

Once they arrived at a particular tournament, even the very best players had no idea how they would be treated. Housing might vary from a single room in a well-appointed house nearby the tournament venue to sharing space in tight quarters. Food? Hopefully, a well-stocked kitchen. Need your racquet restrung? Well, perhaps a club member could do the job. At the venue, players vied with members for court time, often in 30-minute increments. “And maybe we’d be given a can of new balls for a practice session,” said Drysdale. “Maybe.” Let’s not even talk about quality control for things that are taken for granted today such as trainers, linespersons, and chair umpires.

They were trying to break the back of this newly formed player's association. It backfired. John Newcombe

Everything began to change when tennis went Open in March 1968. As tennis entered the commercialized marketplace, tournament directors, promoters, sponsors, and others sought to maximize these new opportunities. Amateur officials also intended to keep pace. “We as players knew we needed to have a say in what was going on,” said Charlie Pasarell, then a top player and one of the ATP’s founders.

With Pilic about to be banned from Wimbledon, Drysdale led the effort to take action. In the big picture, there was significant unity, just about every ATP member agreeing to boycott.

Amid lengthy board meetings that considered and reconsidered if a boycott was the proper choice, Drysdale huddled with ATP executive director Jack Kramer. The world’s best pro in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s, Kramer had also led the pro tour for many years and was quite familiar with all the nuances of tennis politics. As Kramer wrote in his book, The Game, tennis’ powers-that-be “were using Wimbledon to force the ATP to back off from its demands that a federation could no longer control an independent professional tennis player.”

Also in the mix was the ATP’s legal counsel, Donald Dell, a former top amateur and one-time US Davis Cup captain who over the last five years had begun to establish himself as tennis’ first player agent, most notably representing Ashe, Smith, and a great many other prominent American players.

And so it came to pass that on Wednesday, June 20, 1973, Drysdale announced the ATP’s decision to boycott Wimbledon. As longstanding tennis journalist Richard Evans wrote in his book, Open Tennis, “He had not wanted this. All the players desperately wanted to play Wimbledon just because they were tennis players and this was their Mecca. ‘But we’ve got no choice’ Drysdale kept muttering.”

At the time, many British journalists sharply criticized the ATP. Kramer most of all was depicted as a villain, a carryover from the years he’d spent burning the candle for Open tennis. But the statement had been made. Said Newcombe, “They were trying to break the back of this newly formed player's association. It backfired.” In the long term, the players had earned a major triumph that continues to echo loudly.