Revisiting Arthur Ashe's famous 1975 Wimbledon win, 50 years later

Few upsets in tennis history were as stunning. Even fewer were as popular.

To say that Jimmy Connors was the overwhelming favorite coming into Wimbledon in 1975 was an understatement. The 22-year-old was the defending champion and ranked No. 1, and he was playing with a viciousness unseen before in this previously polite sport. In 1974, he had gone 99-4, and there was talk, even among his rivals, of how he would “go on winning everything for years.”

Most people watching Connors’ semifinal against Roscoe Tanner wouldn’t have dared to disagree. “Jimmy,” British journalist Richard Evans wrote, “was primed for one of the most awesome and terrifying displays of attacking tennis ever seen on Centre Court.”

Yet, as Evans noted, little did "Jimbo" know that “in fact, this extravagant show of power-packed tennis was only contributing to his downfall.”

That’s because there was one person watching who had to believe that Connors could be beaten. Arthur Ashe, who had just won his own semifinal, sat toweling off in the locker room as Jimmy pranced across the TV screen above him. Ashe saw Tanner hit the ball hard at Connors, only to have it come back harder; now he knew what not to do in the final. But like Tanner, Ashe had always played with caution-to-the-wind aggression.

Could he change, for one day?

Ashe huddled with his agent, Donald Dell, and fellow player Dennis Ralston. They mapped out a plan based around the one that Muhammad Ali used to upset George Foreman the year before in Zaire: Rope-a-dope. Instead of feeding Jimbo, a born counterpuncher, the pace he craved, Ashe would dink and dunk, slice and dice. “I had the strangest feeling I couldn’t lose,” Ashe said.

He was confident enough to tweak his younger opponent before the match. Ashe walked onto Centre Court wearing his Davis Cup team jacket, with “USA” emblazoned across the back. This was a not-so-subtle reference to the controversy that swirled around the players. Before Wimbledon, Connors’ manager, Bill Riordan, sued Ashe for comments he had made about Jimmy’s recent Davis Cup boycott.

“He ain’t one of the boys,” Ashe said of Connors that year. “We hardly say hello.”

Many people yearned for Ashe, a sentimental favorite at 32, to give the kid his comeuppance. The world, for once, got what it wanted.

Ashe’s brave retreat worked perfectly. He chipped the ball, rolled it softly, and swung Connors from side to side. He gave Connors no punches to counter, and won the first two sets 6-1, 6-1. When Connors snuck out the third set and went up a break in the fourth, Ashe closed his eyes in meditation during each changeover and stuck with the plan. Like Ali in Zaire, he finally let rip with two knockout backhands for the decisive break in the fourth.

Among Blacks, I’ve had quite a few say it was up there with Joe Louis in his prime and Jackie Robinson breaking in with the Dodgers in 1947. Arthur Ashe on his 1975 Wimbledon win

Connors would reveal later that he was injured during that fortnight. No matter. Ashe gave tennis’s old guard one final hurrah; his Grand Slam title would be his generation’s last. He also became the only African-American man to win Wimbledon.

“Among Blacks,” Ashe said, “I’ve had quite a few say it was up there with Joe Louis in his prime and Jackie Robinson breaking in with the Dodgers in 1947.”

Ashe transcended boundaries, and inspired white and Black folks alike. With his win over Connors, he also offered hope to his fellow players. Ashe showed that thought and courage do matter in tennis, and with enough of both, anyone can be beaten.