And one and two and three… zero points! There is no longer any French in the 3rd round of Roland-Garros. Such a catastrophe for French tennis had never happened during the Open (professional) era opened in 1968, more than half a century ago! Enzo Couacaud, Gaël Monfils, Richard Gasquet were swept away Wednesday and Thursday, sounding the death knell for national hopes. No jealousy: on the women's side too, the 2021 edition will continue without any French. Clearly, the players are not Porte d'Auteuil prophets. Mary Pierce is the last winner in 2000, Yannick Noah the last winner in 1983. Even before him, it had been a long time to hear the rooster crowing on Parisian clay, thanks to a forgotten champion: Marcel Bernard.
So, all that for that? Defy the forecasts, eliminate one by one the main favorites of the tournament to, finally, fall sharply on the last hurdle and see the title fly away? Another bullet that escapes him. Marcel Bernard looks up helplessly. Around him, the Roland-Garros stadium is full like an egg. It was the crowd of great days on July 28, 1946. A gala Sunday. To avoid sunburn, many spectators improvised, using paper newspapers, a headgear in the shape of a small boat. The Northerner Bernard is taking the water. The notice board is final. The first two sets of this final suggest a real shipwreck: 6-3 6-2 for the Czechoslovakian Jaroslav Drobny. The third round begins, that of the last chance for the French.
Considered the best volleyball player in France
But what is Marcel Bernard doing on this court?
Truth be told, he shouldn't even be there.
Captured by his new functions as stockbroker, the 32-year-old tennis player, considered the best volleyball player in France, no longer has as much time to devote to his passion.
But this first post-war Roland-Garros has a special flavor.
A happy return to (beaten) earth after a dark parenthesis.
So the left-hander registers.
Only in doubles, his specialty, he who played in Davis Cup alongside the "leaping Basque", Jean Borotra.
In the men's category, he will line up alongside his accomplice, the French giant Yvon Petra (1.95 m), champion with an appetite for ocher, just crowned at the last Wimbledon in early July.
In mixed, Bernard intends to make the pair with a rising value, the American Margaret Osborne, recent finalist at the US Open.
Patatras, this one prefers to devote itself to the simple.
At the same time, the referee of the tournament, overwhelmed by the package of several foreign sportsmen, insists on Marcel Bernard who ends up giving in to the sirens of the simple gentlemen.
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A painting he knows well: in 1932, just four years after the inauguration of the stadium bearing the name of the famous aviator killed at the end of the First World War, Marcel Bernard reached the semi-finals of Roland-Garros. He is 18 years old and facing the "musketeer" Henri Cochet, the left-hander from the North is swept away 6-1 6-0 6-4. Fourteen years later, Marcel Bernard has gone from the costume of the young first to the veteran that (almost) no one expects.
And one, and two and three victories: the Lille however qualifies quite easily in the second week.
To everyone's surprise, he didn't stop there.
Seed number 4, the Ecuadorian Pancho Segura and his funny two-handed backhand go by the wayside.
In the quarterfinals, Budge Patty (who will sign a nice double Roland-Garros - Wimbledon in 1950) suffers the same fate.
Here is Marcel Bernard in half where he crosses paths with his compatriot Yvon Petra.
A half in front of his friend
In the semifinals, Bernard Marcel manages to get rid of his compatriot and doubles partner, Yvon Petra, just winner of Wimbledon.
Sports Press
A match between friends rarely sparks off. This one is no exception to the rule: the first three sets are studded with unforced errors. The end is more glorious, Marcel Bernard finally finds his tennis and the way to the net. The fishing is miraculous: the giant Petra falls into the landing net of the thirty-something semi-retired who qualifies for the final.
Faced with Marcel Bernard, on this scorching Sunday, Jaroslav Drobny, seven years his junior, left-handed like him. The Czechoslovakian signs a cannon start. He is clearly the boss on the court. But in the third set, the Slavic machine jams. Face closed, Drobny remains cloistered on his line. The Frenchman nibbles ground, advances more and more in the court and knocks out his opponent with aerial volleys and magic smashes. The steam has reversed, the last three sets are one-way: 6-1 6-4 6-3. After a last forehand passing shot, the case is in the bag and the title of champion in the purse of the future boss of the French Tennis Federation (1968-1973).
The makeshift hats of the spectators fly away, the crowd is jubilant. “A tidal wave of ovation,” described the newspaper L'Équipe following his unexpected victory. The Central is far from suspecting that it will have to wait 37 years and the victory of Yannick Noah in 1983 to see another French triumph at home. And 38 years - already - of additional famine since the coronation of the champion with the dread locks.