Stefan Edberg: The Life Story Behind Tennis' Serve-and-Volley Master

Stefan Edberg played tennis the way it was meant to be played, or at least the way it used to be played, before the game became a contest of power from the back of the court. He served, he ran to the net, and he volleyed with a touch so soft and so precise that the ball seemed to die on his strings. He moved like a dancer, he behaved like a gentleman, and he won six Grand Slam singles titles, became the world number one, and was so respected for his sportsmanship that the tennis world named its fair-play award after him. In a sport full of shouting and arguing, Edberg was quiet, and in a sport full of power, he was graceful, and the quiet grace turned out to be enough to make him one of the great champions of his time.

His story begins in Västervik, a small town on the east coast of Sweden, where a boy who loved sport found tennis, and where he learned, from his family and from his coaches, that how you play matters as much as whether you win. It is a story of a junior champion who won all four junior Grand Slam titles in a single year, of a young man who became the best serve-and-volley player in the world, of finals against Boris Becker that thrilled the whole sport, and of a tragedy, early in his career, that marked him for the rest of his life and that he carried with a dignity that few people could have managed.

This is the life of Stefan Edberg, the gentleman champion, the man who played the game beautifully, and who left it more beautiful than he found it.

Västervik: A Small Town and a Big Talent

Stefan Bengt Edberg was born on 19 January 1966 in Västervik, Sweden, a small coastal town where life was quiet, and where sport was a part of growing up. His father worked for the local government, and his mother worked as well, and the family was ordinary and loving, and Stefan grew up with a sense of calm that stayed with him for his whole life. He played many sports as a boy, including football and ice hockey, which are popular in Sweden, but tennis was the one that captured him, because it was a game that rewarded touch and thought, and because he had a natural gift for it that his coaches noticed at once.

He was a tall, thin boy, and he moved well, and he had a one-handed backhand that was beautiful to watch, a shot that he hit with a grace that made coaches smile. He learned to serve and volley, the style that was popular in Sweden at the time, because the great Swedish champion Bjorn Borg had shown the country that tennis could be a path to the world, and because the Swedish tennis system was one of the best in the world, with good coaches and good courts and a belief that young players should be taught properly, not rushed. Edberg was a product of that system, and he was one of its finest products.

When he was fifteen, he began to play junior tournaments in Europe, and he won them, and the tennis world began to notice the quiet Swedish boy with the elegant game. He was not loud, and he was not showy, and he did not seek attention, but his tennis spoke for him, and it spoke in a language that everyone understood: that here was a player who could be great, and who would be great, if he was given time to grow. He was a boy who loved the game, and who loved to practise, and who was willing to work for hours on the smallest details of his serve and his volley, because he understood that greatness is built from small things, done well, again and again.

In 1983, when he was seventeen years old, he achieved something that no junior player had ever achieved before, and that no junior player has achieved since: he won all four junior Grand Slam titles in a single calendar year, the Australian Open, the French Open, Wimbledon, and the US Open, all as a junior. It was a remarkable achievement, and it marked him as the finest young player in the world, and it set the stage for a professional career that would bring him to the very top of the game. But that year also brought a tragedy that would stay with him forever, a tragedy that showed him, at a young age, how fragile life can be.

The Tragedy of 1983 and a Young Man’s Dignity

In the final of the US Open junior tournament in 1983, Edberg hit a serve that struck a linesman, Dick Wertheim, who fell and hit his head, and who later died from his injuries. It was an accident, a terrible and unforeseeable accident, and Edberg was not to blame for it in any way, but he was seventeen years old, and he had to live with the knowledge that a man had died during a match he was playing in. It was a burden that no young person should have to carry, and it marked him deeply, and it shaped the man he became.

He did not talk about it much in public, because he was a private man, and because the pain was too deep for words, but those who knew him understood that the tragedy had changed him, and that it had made him more serious, more humble, and more aware of how precious life is. He went on to win the tournament, and he went on to become a great champion, but he never forgot what had happened, and he carried it with him, quietly, for the rest of his life. It is a part of his story that is painful to tell, and painful to read, but it is a part that matters, because it shows the character of the man: that he could suffer a terrible thing, and still go on, and still play the game with grace, and still treat people with kindness.

The tennis world rallied around him, and the officials understood that it was an accident, and no blame was placed on him, but the memory stayed, and it made him a more thoughtful person, and a more compassionate one. He has spoken, in rare interviews, about how the event taught him to be grateful for every day, and to be kind to the people around him, because life can change in a single moment, and because no one knows what the next day will bring. It is a lesson that he carried onto the court, and into his life, and it is one of the reasons that people who knew him speak of him with such respect.

He turned professional in 1983, in the same year as the tragedy, and he began his journey to the top of the game, a journey that would take him to six Grand Slam titles, and to the world number one ranking, and to a place among the great players of his generation. He did it with a quiet dignity, and with a grace that was, in part, born from the hardest experience of his young life.

Six Grand Slams and the Art of the Volley

Edberg’s professional career was built on his serve and his volley, a style that was already becoming rare in the 1980s, as players began to hit harder from the baseline, and as the game became faster and more powerful. But Edberg was so good at his style that he made it work at the highest level, and he made it beautiful to watch. He served with placement and with spin, he ran to the net, and he volleyed with a touch that was unmatched, hitting the ball softly, and angling it away from his opponents, and finishing points with a grace that made the crowds gasp. He was, in the words of many who played against him, the finest volleyer of his generation.

He won his first Grand Slam singles title at the Australian Open in 1985, beating Mats Wilander, a fellow Swede, in the final, and he won the Australian Open again in 1987, beating Pat Cash in the final. He won Wimbledon in 1988, beating Boris Becker in the final in four sets, and he won Wimbledon again in 1990, beating Becker once more, in a five-set final that is still remembered as one of the great Wimbledon finals. He won the US Open in 1991, beating Jim Courier in the final, and he won the US Open again in 1992, beating Pete Sampras in the final, bringing his total of Grand Slam singles titles to six. He also reached the final of the French Open in 1989, losing to Michael Chang, and that was the one Grand Slam title he never won, a gap that kept him from the Career Grand Slam, but that did not diminish his achievements.

His finals against Becker were the heart of his career, and they were matches between two very different players: Becker, the powerful German who dived and shouted, and Edberg, the graceful Swede who moved quietly and volleyed softly. They played each other many times, and their Wimbledon finals, in 1988, 1989, and 1990, were the highlight of those years, with Becker winning in 1989 and Edberg winning in 1988 and 1990. The crowds loved the contrast, and the matches were played in a spirit of respect that both men shared, because they were rivals, but they were also friends, and they understood each other’s game.

Edberg became the world number one in 1990, and he held the ranking for a total of 72 weeks, and he was, for a time, the best player in the world, a quiet Swede from a small town, who had reached the top by playing the game in the most beautiful way possible. He was not the most powerful, and he was not the loudest, but he was the most elegant, and elegance, in his case, was enough.

The Sportsmanship Award and the Gentleman’s Game

Edberg was known, throughout his career, for his sportsmanship, for his fairness, and for his respect for his opponents, for the officials, and for the game itself. He never argued with umpires, he never broke a racket, and he never behaved in a way that brought shame on the sport. He played hard, and he wanted to win, but he played fairly, and he accepted defeat with grace, and he congratulated his opponents when they beat him. It was a way of playing that came from his upbringing, and from his character, and from the tragedy he had suffered as a young man, which had taught him that the game is only a game, and that life is more important.

In 1995, the ATP, the organisation that runs men’s professional tennis, named its sportsmanship award after him: the Stefan Edberg Sportsmanship Award, given each year to the player who is judged to have shown the greatest fairness, professionalism, and respect on and off the court. It is one of the highest honours in the sport, because it is voted for by the players themselves, and because it recognises not only talent, but character. Edberg has said that the award means more to him than any of his titles, because a title is won for yourself, but the award is given by your fellow players, and it means that they respect you as a person, not only as a player.

He won the award himself five times, in 1988, 1989, 1990, 1992, and 1995, and he was the first player to have the award named after him while he was still playing. It is a remarkable honour, and it is a sign of how highly his fellow players regarded him. Roger Federer, who won the award many times in later years, has said that Edberg was his hero, and that he tried to play the game the way Edberg played it, with grace and with respect, and that is a tribute that matters more than any trophy.

Edberg’s sportsmanship was not a weakness. It was a strength, and it was a strength that helped him to win, because it gave him a clear mind, and because it meant that he never wasted energy on anger, or on arguments, or on things he could not control. He saved his energy for the tennis, and he played the tennis beautifully, and the tennis world loved him for it. He was a gentleman, and the game was better for having him in it.

The Later Years and a Graceful Farewell

Edberg played on into the mid-1990s, and he remained one of the best players in the world, but the game was changing, and the serve-and-volley style was becoming harder to play, as the courts slowed down, and as the players from the baseline hit the ball harder and with more spin. He reached the final of the Australian Open in 1993, losing to Jim Courier, and he played well in the years that followed, but the Grand Slam titles stopped coming, and he began to think about retirement. He announced, in 1996, that it would be his last year, and he played a farewell season, saying goodbye to the tournaments and the crowds that had been his home for thirteen years.

He retired at the end of 1996, after playing his last match at the US Open, and he walked away from the game with his dignity intact, and with the respect of the whole tennis world. He had won six Grand Slam singles titles, he had been the world number one, and he had won the sportsmanship award five times, and he had done it all with a grace that no other player of his time could match. He was 30 years old, and he had a family, and a life to live, and he was ready for it.

He married Annette Hjort Olsen in 1992, and the couple have two children, Emilie and Christopher, and they have lived in Växjö, in southern Sweden, a quiet life, away from the spotlight. He has not chased fame, and he has not tried to stay in the public eye, but he has stayed close to tennis, and he has given back to the game in ways that have mattered. He is a man who gave everything to tennis, and who was happy, when it was over, to give his time to his family, and to his home.

Coaching Federer and the Return to the Game

In 2013, Edberg returned to the tennis world in a new role, as the coach of Roger Federer, the Swiss champion who was, at the time, struggling with his game, and who wanted to learn to serve and volley more, and to play with more variety. It was a perfect match, because Federer had grown up admiring Edberg, and because Edberg had the knowledge that Federer wanted, and because the two men shared a love of the game played beautifully. Edberg worked with Federer for two years, from 2014 to 2015, and in that time, Federer reached the Wimbledon final twice, and he played some of the most elegant tennis of his later career, and he credited Edberg with helping him to rediscover his love for the net game.

The partnership was a joy to watch, because it brought together two of the most graceful players in the history of the sport, a master and his student, and because it showed that Edberg’s knowledge was still relevant, even in a game that had changed a great deal since he had played it. He did not try to change Federer’s game completely. He simply added to it, teaching him when to come to the net, and how to volley, and how to think about the game in a new way, and Federer, who was already a great champion, became a better one because of it. It was a partnership built on respect, and on a shared love of beautiful tennis, and it ended, in 2015, with both men speaking warmly of each other.

Edberg has also been involved in other tennis work, including helping young Swedish players, and supporting the game in his home country, and he remains a respected figure in the sport, a man whose opinion is sought, and whose example is followed. He is a quiet man, and he does not seek attention, but when he speaks, the tennis world listens, because he is one of the few people who has been to the top, and who has stayed humble, and who has kept the game in his heart.

Today, when people talk about the greatest serve-and-volley players in history, Edberg is always at the top of the list, and when they talk about the greatest sportsmen, he is at the top of that list too. His story is not a loud one, but it is a beautiful one, and it is a story that deserves to be told, because it shows that a person can be great, and kind, and graceful, all at the same time.

The Swedish School: Borg, Wilander, and a Golden Generation

Edberg did not become great alone. He was part of a golden generation of Swedish tennis, a generation that began with Bjorn Borg, the calm champion who won Wimbledon five times, and that continued with Mats Wilander, the clever player who won seven Grand Slam titles, and with other fine players who made Sweden one of the strongest tennis nations in the world. The Swedish system was built on good coaching, on indoor courts that let children play all year, and on a belief that young players should learn the game properly, with patience, and with respect for the sport. Edberg was a product of that system, and he was proud of it, and he carried its values with him wherever he played.

He played Davis Cup for Sweden, and he helped his country to win the competition, and he played alongside Wilander and other Swedish players in a team that was known for its discipline and its spirit. The Swedish players were not loud, and they were not showy, but they were tough, and they were smart, and they won because they worked together, and because they trusted each other. Edberg was a part of that team, and he loved playing for his country, because it gave him a chance to be part of something bigger than himself, and to represent the small town and the small country that had raised him.

The Swedish generation also showed the world that a small country can produce great champions, if it invests in its children, and if it teaches them well. Sweden, with a population of only a few million people, produced Borg, Wilander, and Edberg, three of the greatest players in the history of the game, and that is a remarkable achievement, and it is a tribute to the coaches and the clubs and the families who made it possible. Edberg was the last of the three to reach the top, and he was the one who carried the Swedish flag the longest, and he did it with the same grace that had marked his whole career.

My Take:

I think Stefan Edberg is the player I would most want my children to copy, and I say that because he was great and good at the same time, and those two things do not always go together. He won six Grand Slam titles, he was the world number one, and he was so respected for his fairness that the tennis world named its sportsmanship award after him. That is a combination that is rare, and it is a combination that matters, because it shows that you do not have to be rude to win, and you do not have to be angry to be great. You can win with grace, and you can lose with grace, and you can be respected by the people you play against, and that respect is worth more than any trophy.

What I admire most about Edberg is his volley, and I want to talk about it, because it was the most beautiful shot I have ever seen in tennis. He did not hit the volley hard. He touched it. He guided it. He placed it where his opponent could not reach it, and he did it with a softness that made the ball seem to float. I have watched old films of his matches, and I am still amazed by how little effort it seemed to take. He moved to the net, he reached out, and the point was over, and the crowd gasped, because they had seen something that looked like magic. That kind of skill does not come from strength. It comes from practice, and from patience, and from a deep understanding of the game, and Edberg had all three.

I also think about the tragedy of 1983, and about the linesman who died, because that event is the hardest part of his story to think about, and it is the part that shows his character most clearly. He was seventeen years old, and a man died during a match he was playing, and he had to live with that for the rest of his life. He did not talk about it much, and he did not use it to gain sympathy, and he did not let it stop him from playing. He carried it quietly, and he let it make him a kinder person, and a more humble person, and a person who understood that life is fragile. I think about that when I think about my own troubles, which are small compared to his, and I wonder if I could carry a burden like that with the same dignity. I am not sure I could, and that is why I admire him so much.

The sportsmanship award is the part of his career that I love most, because it is an award that is voted for by the players themselves, and because it means that the men he played against respected him as a person. It is easy to win a trophy. It is hard to win the respect of your rivals, because your rivals are the people who know you best, and who have the most reason to dislike you. Edberg won their respect, and he won it five times, and the tennis world named the award after him, and that is an honour that no amount of money can buy. I think every young player should aim for that award, not only for the titles, because the award says something about who you are, and the titles only say something about what you did.

I also admire the way he coached Federer, because it showed that his knowledge was still valuable, even many years after he had stopped playing, and because it showed that he was willing to give that knowledge to another player. He did not keep his secrets to himself. He shared them, and Federer became a better player because of it, and the game became more beautiful because of it. I think that is what a great champion should do: pass on what they know, and help the next generation, and leave the game better than they found it. Edberg did that, and Federer is the proof of it.

The finals against Becker are the matches I remember most, because they were matches between two men who were opposites, and who respected each other, and who played with a spirit that is rare today. Becker dived and shouted, and Edberg moved quietly and volleyed softly, and the crowds loved them both, because they could see, in each man, a different kind of greatness. They were rivals, but they were also friends, and they shook hands at the net with respect, and they spoke well of each other after the match. I think that is how rivalries should be, and I wish more rivalries today were like that, with respect instead of hatred, and with grace instead of anger.

If I could speak to a young tennis player, I would tell them to study Edberg, not only for his volley, but for his behaviour. I would tell them to watch the way he walked onto the court, the way he treated the officials, the way he congratulated his opponents, and the way he accepted defeat. I would tell them that those things matter, because they are the things that people remember, long after the scores are forgotten. A young player who copies Edberg’s behaviour will be respected, and a respected player will be welcomed everywhere, and will be happy in the game, even when they lose. That is a lesson that is worth more than any forehand.

I also think about his life in Sweden, and about the quiet home he built in Växjö, because it tells me that he understood something that many famous athletes never understand: that fame is not a home, and that the game is not a life. He retired, and he went home, and he raised his children, and he lived quietly, and he was happy. I think that is a brave choice, because it is easy to chase fame forever, and hard to let it go, and Edberg let it go, and he found a better life on the other side. I hope every athlete learns that lesson, and learns it early, before the game takes everything from them.

In the end, I think Stefan Edberg will be remembered as the gentleman champion, the man who played the game beautifully, and who left it more beautiful than he found it. I will remember the volley, and the grace, and the sportsmanship, and I will remember the quiet Swede from Västervik who became the best in the world without ever raising his voice. That is a legacy to be proud of, and it is a legacy that will last, because the award that bears his name is given every year, to a new player, and every time it is given, the tennis world remembers Edberg, and remembers what the game should be.

I also want to say something about his junior Grand Slam, because winning all four junior titles in a single year is an achievement that has never been repeated, and it shows how special he was from the very start. He was seventeen, and he was the best junior in the world, and he did it with the same grace that he showed as a professional. I think about all the young players who are trying to make it today, and I want them to know that Edberg’s junior success did not come from power, or from anger, but from skill, and from patience, and from a love of the game. Those are the things that last, and those are the things that will take a young player to the top, if they are willing to work for them.

One more thought stays with me, and it is about the way he moved, because his movement was like a dance, and it made tennis look like an art, not like a fight. He glided to the net, he stretched for the volley, and he landed softly, and the whole thing looked effortless, even though it was the result of years of hard work. I think that is what great sport should look like: not a struggle, but a dance, and Edberg danced on a tennis court better than anyone I have ever seen. I hope young players will watch him, and learn that the game can be beautiful, and that beauty is a kind of strength, and that the most elegant player can also be the strongest.

And finally, I want to say that I am grateful to Edberg for showing the world that kindness and greatness can live in the same person. In a world that often tells us that we have to be ruthless to win, he proved that we do not. He was kind, and he was great, and he was respected, and he was loved, and that is enough. I hope his story is told to every young player who picks up a racket, because it is a story that will make them better players, and better people, and that is the best thing a sports story can do.

I also think about the way Edberg handled losing, because that is where character truly shows. He lost the French Open final in 1989 to Michael Chang, a young American who played with a courage that surprised everyone, and Edberg accepted the defeat with grace, congratulating his opponent, and speaking well of him afterwards. He did not make excuses, and he did not blame the court, or the weather, or anyone else. He simply said that the better player had won on the day, and he moved on. I think that is a lesson for all of us: that losing is a part of life, and that how we lose matters as much as how we win, and that a person who loses gracefully is a person who will win again, because they have not wasted their energy on anger.

There is one more thing I want to say about his serve, because it was the foundation of everything he did, and because it is a shot that young players should study. He did not serve the fastest, but he served the smartest, placing the ball where his opponent did not want it, and spinning it in a way that made it hard to return, and then following it to the net with a confidence that came from years of practice. I think the serve is the most important shot in tennis, because it is the only shot you control completely, and Edberg controlled it better than almost anyone. A young player who learns to serve like Edberg will win many matches, and will enjoy the game more, because they will start every point with an advantage.

I also think about his family, and about the quiet life he built in Växjö, because it tells me that he knew what mattered. He married Annette, he raised two children, and he lived in a small city in Sweden, away from the noise of the tennis world, and he was content. I think about all the famous athletes who cannot let go of fame, and who chase it for the rest of their lives, and I admire Edberg for letting it go, and for finding happiness in the ordinary things: a home, a family, and a game that he loved. That is a kind of wisdom that is rare, and it is a kind of wisdom that I hope to have one day.

I also want to mention his doubles career, because it is often forgotten, and because it shows another side of him. He won Grand Slam doubles titles, and he was a fine doubles player, and he enjoyed playing with a partner, sharing the court, and working together. I think doubles is a beautiful game, because it teaches you to trust someone else, and to communicate, and to share the joy of winning, and Edberg was good at all of those things. He was not only a singles champion. He was a team player, and a friend, and a man who understood that tennis is better when it is shared.

And I want to finish with a thought about the award that bears his name, because every year, when the ATP gives the Stefan Edberg Sportsmanship Award to a new player, the tennis world remembers him, and remembers what the game should be. That is a legacy that will outlive all of us, because it is given every year, to a new generation, and each time it is given, a young player learns that fairness matters, and that respect matters, and that character matters. Edberg’s name will live on in that award, long after his matches are forgotten, and I think that is the finest tribute any athlete could hope for.

Frequently Asked Questions

How many Grand Slam titles did Stefan Edberg win?

He won six Grand Slam singles titles: two Australian Opens, two Wimbledons, and two US Opens, and he reached the French Open final in 1989.

What is the Stefan Edberg Sportsmanship Award?

It is the ATP award given each year to the player who shows the greatest fairness and respect on and off the court, named after Edberg because of his own sportsmanship, which he won five times.

Who did Stefan Edberg beat in his Wimbledon finals?

He beat Boris Becker in the Wimbledon finals of 1988 and 1990, and Becker beat him in the 1989 final, in one of the great rivalries of the era.

Did Stefan Edberg win all four junior Grand Slams in one year?

Yes, in 1983 he won all four junior Grand Slam titles in a single calendar year, a feat no other junior player has ever achieved.

What happened in the 1983 US Open junior final?

His serve struck a linesman, Dick Wertheim, who fell and later died from his injuries, a tragic accident that deeply affected the young Edberg.

Who did Stefan Edberg coach after retiring?

He coached Roger Federer from 2014 to 2015, helping Federer to reach two Wimbledon finals and to play more serve-and-volley tennis.