KEY POINTS:
Curled up on a makeshift bed of towels beside a bath in the men's locker room, Chris Lewis was asleep an hour before his fourth-round match.
It was not that the Kiwi No.1 was relaxed. Far from it. A bout of nerves had caused Lewis a sleepless night before that match with Nigeria's Nduka Odizor. It had suddenly struck him that he had a great chance to realise his boyhood dream of doing well at Wimbledon.
Although it was tempting to skip his usual morning practice session with Jeff Simpson in the hope of catching up on some sleep, Lewis wouldn't sacrifice his routine. He loved routine and it had worked so far.
Instead, as soon as he had finished hitting with Simpson, he headed for the locker room for some rest and told his practice partner to rouse him at 12.30pm.
When he took to court three for his match with Odizor, it seemed Lewis was still asleep. He lost the first three points on his serve and felt sluggish, but he turned things around to claim a 6-1 6-3 6-3 win.
"Everything went my way," Lewis says from his home in Irvine, California, where he is the high-performance director at the Woodbridge Tennis Academy. "I hardly missed a return, a serve, a first volley. It was one of those matches where if you could have written the script, that would have been it."
Hollywood writers would have preordained that Lewis would go on to win the 1983 Wimbledon championships, overcoming huge odds of playing the world's best grasscourt player _ John McEnroe _ in the final.
There was no fairy-tale ending in the sense Lewis claimed the title, but it was still a remarkable achievement, one of the best in New Zealand sports history.
It was a run that gripped a nation. Thousands huddled around television screens in the dead of night to see the boy from Auckland become only the seventh unseeded player and second New Zealander behind Anthony Wilding to reach the final of the world's greatest tennis tournament.
Thousands more sent telegrams of support to Lewis through the Wimbledon postal service, which even sent messages of its own toward the end of the tournament because it felt such an affinity with Lewis.
It was not supposed to happen. Entering Wimbledon, Lewis' ranking stood at 91, the lowest it had been since he became a full-time professional. He had a belief, however, that had been with him since childhood that he was destined to do well there at some time in his career.
That time was 1983.
The omens weren't great. After nine years as a professional, Lewis was struggling.
The 1975 junior Wimbledon champion had seen his ranking slip nearly 60 places in 12 months and illness and poor form saw him bundled out early at the French Open.
That early exit, though, allowed him to assess where his career was at and what he needed to do to try to turn things around. Hard work was the answer.
Lewis was already an intense trainer and worked harder than most players on the tour. While his forehand was good, as well as his backhand approach, his speed around the court and fitness were his two biggest weapons. He was fit enough to run marathons but he also trained with sprinters to find that extra edge.
In the weeks leading up to Wimbledon, Lewis worked extensively with coach Tony Roche and then hired fellow Kiwi Jeff Simpson to be his practice partner.
He was beaten in the second round at Queens, one of the grasscourt tournaments before Wimbledon, by big-hitting American Steve Denton but felt he was returning to something close to his top form.
Lewis was drawn to again play Denton, the tournament's ninth seed, in the first round. While many would have considered it a tough ask, particularly as Denton had never lost to him, Lewis didn't see it that way.
"I knew the prospect of having to play me wouldn't have been a good one for Steve," he says. "Most of the guys would have said to themselves, `I hope I don't play that Chris Lewis guy from New Zealand. Keep me away from him.' Steve would have felt that. Over five sets, I considered myself at least a 50-50 proposition but there were certainly better draws around."
As it turned out, it went to five sets, with Lewis winning 6-4 4-6 7-6 4-6 6-3 in three hours, despite serving 13 foot faults and being aced 22 times.
In the second round, Lewis comfortably defeated Australian Brod Dyke 7-6 6-1 6-3 before dispatching American Mike Bauer in another tough five-setter 6-4 3-6 7-5 6-7 6-4.
"It was at this stage and playing for a place in the quarter-finals that I became conscious that this was a real opportunity to go all the way," Lewis remembers. "That manifested itself in not being able to sleep well the night before [the match with Odizor]. Until then, it was just another big tennis match. Playing for the quarter-final of Wimbledon had a ring to it."
The Duke, as Odizor was also known, was one of the celebrities of the tournament after his first-round defeat of six-time grand slam winner Guillermo Vilas and was a regular feature in the suffocating British press.
But while Lewis was feeling the pressure of the occasion, Odizor felt it even more and had no answer, losing in 85 minutes.
At the same time, South African Kevin Curren was in the process of defeating defending champion and top seed Jimmy Connors in four sets, thanks largely to 33 aces.
Lewis watched the final set on television and sensed Curren was now the danger in the top half of the draw that also included himself and Americans Mel Purcell and Tim Mayotte.
Lewis was drawn against Purcell, someone he had never played before, so he had little idea of what to expect. Despite his superior fitness, he tried to keep the points as short as possible, coming into the net at every opportunity.
Purcell won the first set but from then on, Lewis took charge, winning the match 6-7 6-0 6-4 7-6 to set up semifinal match-up with Curren.
From an early age, Lewis had the ability to remember almost every point of every match he ever played. He thought every tennis player was like that but it wasn't until he took up coaching he discovered how rare it was.
He could recall what happened at 40-30, 4-2 in the second set of a match played in 1978. He certainly remembers what happened at break point against Curren when serving for a place in the final at 7-6 in the fifth.
"I remember it like it was yesterday," he says. "There were a few points where Kevin would love the crosscourt running forehand and when I was serving for the match in the fifth, he hit one of his running forehands. I left a little gap for him crosscourt, knowing I was going to cover it. He went crosscourt again and hit it really well but I dived for it, got it midair and put it on to the open court. That was one of those crisis points. I knew then I was going to win."
Curren's game was tailor-made for Wimbledon. He had a huge serve and big ground strokes and it was a huge opportunity for him to make his first Wimbledon final, especially against a player ranked 91 in the world.
Curren was still playing with a wooden racket while Lewis had already made the switch to a graphite composite _ Curren was the last player in the top 100 to switch in 1985 because he struggled to find the control he needed _ but it was Lewis' speed and fitness that proved the difference.
"Chris didn't have the game to actually hurt you but he was a great athlete," Curren says from his home in South Africa, where he is a mining investor. "I thought the match was never going to end, I was so tired.
"In those days they don't have the sophisticated sports drinks they do now so I was drinking Coke and eating chocolates but I just couldn't break him. Most guys would have folded under the pressure but Chris seemed to get tougher as the match progressed.
"I was surprised at the level he played. He punched above his weight in that tournament _ he was much better than his ranking of 91 _ and it was a great effort for him physically and mentally. He certainly didn't have any chinks in his armour and I tended to play into his hands."
Although Curren reached the final in 1985, when he was beaten by a teenage Boris Becker, it was a chance he should have taken. Now he consoles himself with the fact it was arguably the best match of the tournament.
Watching that match, Lewis' first singles game on the famed Centre Court, was Margaret Thatcher. The British Prime Minister had been expected to leave following the earlier semifinal _ won 7-6 6-4 6-4 by McEnroe over Ivan Lendl _ but became so engrossed in the Lewis-Curren match, like the rest of the 20,000 spectators and millions watching around the world, she stayed until it finished at 7.55pm.
Peter Bodo, writing in Tennis magazine, described the match: "From appearances, it would have been appropriate to arm the boys with broken bottles, rather than rackets. Lewis wore a white bandeau with a red trim that resembled a bloody dressing. He also had a bandaged arm, while Curren's left shin was under repair because of a collision with a net post.
"The match was a slashing affair, full of diving volleys, impossible retrievals and shifting opportunities. Lewis clung to the match like a terrier and his astonishing capacity to make Curren work for every blessed point eventually paid off."
Lewis takes up the tale: "When I stepped up for match point, there was a deadly silence. It was church-like. People wondered what was going to happen. It was so Wimbledon _ there's nothing like it in tennis.
"He hit a return that floated out on my backhand side. That was it. I was in the final. It hit me then. That was the first time in my career when I lifted my hands above my head after I won. It was just wonderful."
Lewis was completely outclassed by McEnroe 6-2 6-2 6-2 in the final. It was somewhat anti-climactic but there was no disgrace.
McEnroe was at the top of his game and said no one would have beaten him because he never played better in a grand-slam final.
"Let's face it, this was a great opportunity for me to win easily," he said afterward. "This guy wasn't Borg but it's not my fault he got to the final. People expected me to win one-sidedly and that's the way I wanted it. I didn't want to give him any hope, so I jumped right on top of him."
Lewis was far from overawed by the occasion. Sleeping pills, which he started taking after his restless night before his fourth-round match with Odizor, ensured he slept well and he knew what to expect, having played McEnroe in the final of the 1981 Cincinnati Masters.
"I had been on the tour a long time and was a pretty experienced pro," Lewis says, "so there was nothing overwhelming about it. It wasn't as if I just stepped out there and didn't know what to expect. I knew the place inside out. I had played on almost every court over eight years.
"Part of it was that I expected to be there. This was something in my mind that was always going to happen. I always believed I had the game and ability to do well there so it wasn't anything shocking to me. It didn't mean I was relaxed. It was just no different from Davis Cup or playing McEnroe in the final of Cincinnati in '81 on TV.
"I believed I was capable of beating him. I had just won six matches in a row after a poor year and had just won an incredible match against Curren. When you take things that far, you are in harmony with the game. The racket just belongs in your hand and you feel as though you belong on a tennis court. I felt I had a chance.
"But from start to finish, he was in charge and I had no answers to what was being thrown at me. I couldn't handle his serve, I couldn't read it properly. John could delay his swing a little longer than any other player. I would commit to a certain place believing it was the only option but he would hit it somewhere else. He was a genius and I had no answer to it."
Over the course of a fortnight, life had changed for Lewis. He had gone from being well known in New Zealand to public property ("I think I could safely say I was the most recognisable sports person [in New Zealand] for a long time," he says).
There were demands on his time. Tournament directors begged him to play at their events and he played exhibition matches in New Zealand and Asia against Bjorn Borg. He was named 1983 Sportsman of the Year and the financial rewards were good.
Lewis, though, failed to repeat his run of Wimbledon 1983. His ranking rose to a career-high 19 10 months later but soon after, he was beaten in the second round at Wimbledon. A year later, he realised his time was nearly up because it felt more like holding down a job than a passion.
This week, the budding youngsters at the Woodbridge Tennis Academy will play their own Wimbledon finals. They play grand slams regularly and imagine they're Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal or Ana Ivanovic. Some might even pretend they're the Kiwi with the long, flowing hair, the bandanna and boyish charm who made it all the way to the 1983 Wimbledon final.
"It doesn't feel like 25 years," Lewis says with a chuckle. "It is frightening. I remember being in the locker room getting ready like it was yesterday. I can feel the emotion, the stretching exercises, the routine. I got to within one match from the absolute ultimate in the game."
