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THE ART OF LAWN TENNIS
by
WILLIAM T. TILDEN, 2D
To
R. D. K.
AND
M. W. J.
MY "BUDDIES"
W. T. T. 2D
INTRODUCTION
Tennis is at once an art and a science. The game as played by
such men as Norman E. Brookes, the late Anthony Wilding, William
M. Johnston, and R. N. Williams is art. Yet like all true art, it
has its basis in scientific methods that must be learned and
learned thoroughly for a foundation before the artistic structure
of a great tennis game can be constructed.
Every player who helps to attain a high degree of efficiency
should have a clearly defined method of development and adhere to
it. He should be certain that it is based on sound principles
and, once assured of that, follow it, even though his progress
seems slow and discouraging.
I began tennis wrong. My strokes were wrong and my viewpoint
clouded. I had no early training such as many of our American
boys have at the present time. No one told me the importance of
the fundamentals of the game, such as keeping the eye on the ball
or correct body position and footwork. I was given a racquet and
allowed to hit the ball. Naturally, like all beginners, I
acquired many very serious faults. I worried along with moderate
success until I had been graduated from school, beating some
fairly good players, but losing some matches to men below my
class. The year following my graduation the new Captain of my
Alma Mater's team asked me if I would aid him in developing the
squad for next year. Well, "Fools rush in where angels fear to
tread," so I said Yes.
At that point my tennis education began.
The youngsters comprising our tennis squad all knew me well and
felt at perfect liberty to ask me as many questions as they could
think up. I was besieged with requests to explain why Jones
missed a forehand drive down the side-line, or Smith couldn't
serve well, or Brown failed to hit the ball at all. Frankly, I
did not know, but I answered them something at the moment and
said to myself it was time I learned some fundamentals of tennis.
So I began to study the reasons why certain shots are missed and
others made. Why certain balls are hit so much faster though with
less effort than others, and why some players are great while
most are only good. I am still studying, but my results to date
have resulted in a definite system to be learned, and it is this
which I hope to explain to you in my book.
Tennis has a language all its own. The idioms of the game should
be learned, as all books on the game are written in tennis
parlance. The technical terms and their counterpart in slang need
to be understood to thoroughly grasp the idea in any written
tennis account.
I do not believe in using a great deal of space carefully
defining each blade of grass on a court, or each rule of the
game. It gets nowhere. I do advocate teaching the terms of the
game.
1. THE COURT.
The Baseline=The back line.
The Service-line=The back line of the service court, extending
from side-line to side-line at a point 21 feet from the net.
The Alleys=The space on each side of the court between the side
service-line and the outside sideline of a doubles court. They
are used only when playing doubles and are not marked on a single
court.
The Net=The barrier that stretches across the court in the exact
centre. It is 3 feet high at the centre and 3 feet 6 inches high
at the posts which stand 3 feet outside the sidelines.
2. STROKES (Two General Classes).
A. Ground strokes=All shots hit from the baselines off the bounce
of the ball.
B. Volleys=Shots hit while the ball is in flight through the air,
previous to its bound.
The Service=The method of putting the ball in play.
The Drive=A ground stroke hit with a flat racquet face and
carrying top spin.
The Chop=An undercut ground stroke is the general definition of a
chop. The slice and chop are so closely related that, except in
stroke analysis, they may be called chop.
Stop Volley=Blocking a hall short in its flight.
Half Volley or Trap Shot=A pick up.
The Smash=Hitting on the full any overhead ball.
The Lob=Hitting the ball in a high parabola.
3. TWIST ON THE BALL.
Top Spin=The ball spins towards the ground and in the direction
of its flight.
Chop, Cut, or Drag=The ball spins upwards from the ground and
against the line of flight. This is slightly deviated in the
slice, but all these terms are used to designate the
under-struck, back-spinning ball.
Reverse Twist=A ball that carries a rotary spin that curves one
way and bounces the opposite.
Break=A spin which causes the ball to bounce at an angle to its
line of flight.
4. LET=A service that touches the net in its flight yet falls in
court, or any illegal or irregular point that does not count.
5. FAULT=An illegal service.
6. OUT=Any shot hit outside legal boundaries of the court.
7. GOOD=Any shot that strikes in a legal manner prescribed by
rules of the game.
8. FOOTFAULT=An illegal service delivery due to incorrect
position of the server's feet.
9. SERVER=Player delivering service.
10. RECEIVER or STRIKER=Player returning service.
W. T. T. WIMBLEDON, July 1920
PREFACE TO NEW EDITION
The season of 1921 was so epoch-making in the game of tennis,
combining as it did the greatest number of Davis Cup matches that
have ever been held in one year, the invasion of France and
England by an American team, the first appearance in America of
Mlle. Suzanne Lenglen and her unfortunate collapse, and finally
the rise to prominence of Japan as a leading factor in the tennis
world that I have incorporated a record of the season's
outstanding features and some sidelights and personality sketches
on the new stars in the new addition of this book.
The importance of women's tennis has grown so tremendously in the
past few years that I have also added a review of the game and
its progress in America. Not only has Mlle. Lenglen placed her
mark indelibly on the pages of tennis history but 1921 served to
raise Mrs. Molla Bjurstedt Mallory to the position in the world
that she rightly deserves, that of the greatest match winner of
all women. The past season brought the return to American courts
of Mrs. May Sutton Bundy and Miss Mary Browne, in itself an event
of sufficient importance to set the year apart as one of highest
value.
The outstanding performances of the two juniors, Vincent Richards
and Arnold Jones, must be regarded as worthy of permanent
recognition and among the outstanding features of a noteworthy
year. Thus it is with a sense of recording history- making facts
that I turn to the events of 1921.
WILLIAM T. TILDEN 2D
GERMANTOWN,
PHILADELPHIA
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION PREFACE TO NEW EDITION
PART I: TENNIS TECHNIQUE--STROKES AND FUNDAMENTALS OF THE GAME
CHAPTER
I FOR NOVICES ONLY
II THE DRIVE
III SERVICE
IV THE VOLLEY AND OVERHEAD SMASH
V CHOP, HALF VOLLEY, AND COURT POSITION
PART II: THE LAWS OF TENNIS PSYCHOLOGY
VI GENERAL TENNIS PSYCHOLOGY
VII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MATCH PLAY
VIII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PHYSICAL FITNESS
IX THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SINGLES AND DOUBLES
PART III: MODERN TENNIS AND ITS FUTURE
X THE GROWTH OF THE MODERN GAME
XI THE PROBABLE FUTURE OF THE GAME
PART IV: SOME SIDELIGHTS ON FAMOUS PLAYERS INTRODUCTORY
XII AMERICA
XIII BRITISH ISLES
XIV FRANCE AND JAPAN
XV SPAIN AND THE CONTINENT
XVI THE COLONIES
XVII FAMOUS WOMEN PLAYERS
THE ART OF LAWN TENNIS
PART I: TENNIS TECHNIQUE--STROKES AND FUNDAMENTALS OF THE GAME
CHAPTER I. FOR NOVICES ONLY
I trust this initial effort of mine in the world of letters will
find a place among both novices and experts in the tennis world.
I am striving to interest the student of the game by a somewhat
prolonged discussion of match play, which I trust will shed a new
light on the game.
May I turn to the novice at my opening and speak of certain
matters which are second nature to the skilled player?
The best tennis equipment is not too good for the beginner who
seeks really to succeed. It is a saving in the end, as good
quality material so far outlasts poor.
Always dress in tennis clothes when engaging in tennis. White is
the established colour. Soft shirt, white flannel trousers, heavy
white socks, and rubber-soled shoes form the accepted dress for
tennis. Do not appear on the courts in dark clothes, as they are
apt to be heavy and hinder your speed of movement, and also they
are a violation of the unwritten ethics of the game.
The question of choosing a racquet is a much more serious matter.
I do not advocate forcing a certain racquet upon any player. All
the standard makes are excellent. It is in weight, balance, and
size of handle that the real value of a racquet frame depends,
while good stringing is, essential to obtain the best results.
The average player should use a racquet that weighs between 13
1/2 and 14 1/2 ounces inclusive. I think that the best results
may be obtained by a balance that is almost even or slightly
heavy on the head. Decide your handle from the individual choice.
Pick the one that fits comfortably in the hand. Do not use too
small a handle or too light a racquet, as it is apt to turn in
the hand. I recommend a handle of 5 1/4 to 5 3/8 inches at the
grip. Do not use a racquet you do not like merely because your
best friend advises it. It may suit him perfectly, but would not
do for you at all. Do not start children playing tennis with an
under-sized racquet. It weakens the wrist and does not aid the
child in learning strokes. Start a child, boy or girl, with a
full-sized racquet of at least 13 ounces.
After you have acquired your racquet, make a firm resolve to use
good tennis balls, as a regular bounce is a great aid to
advancement, while a "dead" ball is no practice at all.
If you really desire to succeed at the game and advance rapidly,
I strongly urge you to see all the good tennis you can. Study the
play of the leading players and strive to copy their strokes.
Read all the tennis instruction books you can find. They are a
great assistance. I shall be accused of "press- agitating" my own
book by this statement, but such was my belief long before I ever
thought of writing a book of my own.
More tennis can be learned off the court, in the study of theory,
and in watching the best players in action, than can ever be
learned in actual play. I do not mean miss opportunities to play.
Far from it. Play whenever possible, but strive when playing to
put in practice the theories you have read or the strokes you
have watched.
Never be discouraged at slow progress. The trick over some stroke
you have worked over for weeks unsuccessfully will suddenly come
to you when least expected. Tennis players are the product of
hard work. Very few are born geniuses at the game.
Tennis is a game that pays you dividends all your life. A tennis
racquet is a letter of introduction in any town. The brotherhood
of the game is universal, for none but a good sportsman can
succeed in the game for any lengthy period. Tennis provides
relaxation, excitement, exercise, and pure enjoyment to the man
who is tied hard and fast to his business until late afternoon.
Age is not a drawback. Vincent Richards held the National Doubles
Championship of America at fifteen, while William A. Larned won
the singles at past forty. Men of sixty are seen daily on the
clubs' courts of England and America enjoying their game as
keenly as any boy. It is to this game, in great measure, that
they owe the physical fitness which enables them to play at their
advanced age.
The tennis players of the world wrote a magnificent page in the
history of the World War. No branch of sport sent more men to the
colours from every country in the world than tennis, and these
men returned with glory or paid the supreme sacrifice on the
field of honour.
I transgressed from my opening to show you that tennis is a game
worth playing and playing well. It deserves your best, and only
by learning it correctly can you give that best.
If in my book I help you on your way to fame, I feel amply repaid
for all the time spent in analysing the strokes and tactics I set
before you in these pages.
I am going to commence my explanation by talking to the players
whose games are not yet formed. At least once every season I go
back to first principles to pull myself out of some rut into
which carelessness dropped me.
From a long and, many times, sad experience over a period of some
ten years of tournament tennis, I believe the following order of
development produces the quickest and most lasting results:
1. Concentration on the game.
2. Keep the eye on the ball.
3. Foot-work and weight-control.
4. Strokes.
5. Court position.
6. Court generalship or match play.
7. Tennis psychology.
Tennis is a game of intimate personal relation. You constantly
find yourself meeting some definite idea of your opponent. The
personal equation is the basis of tennis success. A great player
not only knows himself, in both strength and weakness, but he
must study is opponent at all times. In order to be able to do
this a player must not be hampered by a glaring weakness in the
fundamentals of his own game, or he will be so occupied trying to
hide it that he will have no time to worry his opponent. The
fundamental weakness of Gerald Patterson's backhand stroke is so
apparent that any player within his class dwarfs Patterson's
style by continually pounding at it. The Patterson overhead and
service are first class, yet both are rendered impotent, once a
man has solved the method of returning low to the backhand, for
Patterson seldom succeeds in taking the offensive again in that
point.
I am trying to make clear the importance of such first principles
as I will now explain.
CONCENTRATION
Tennis is played primarily with the mind. The most perfect
racquet technique in the world will not suffice if the directing
mind is wandering. There are many causes of a wandering mind in a
tennis match. The chief one is lack of interest in the game. No
one should play tennis with an idea of real success unless he
cares sufficiently about the game to be willing to do the
drudgery necessary in learning the game correctly. Give it up at
once unless you are willing to work. Conditions of play or the
noises in the gallery often confuse and bewilder experienced
match-players playing under new surroundings. Complete
concentration on the matter in hand is the only cure for a
wandering mind, and the sooner the lesson is learned the more
rapid the improvement of the player. An amusing example, to all
but the player affected, occurred at the finals of the Delaware
State Singles Championship at Wilmington. I was playing Joseph J.
Armstrong. The Championship Court borders the No. 1 hole of the
famous golf course. The score stood at one set all and 3-4 and
30-40, Armstrong serving. He served a fault and started a second
delivery. Just as he commenced his swing, a loud and very lusty
"Fore!" rang out from the links. Armstrong unconsciously looked
away and served his delivery to the backstop and the game to me.
The umpire refused to "let" call and the incident closed. Yet a
wandering mind in that case meant the loss of a set.
The surest way to hold a match in mind is to play for every set,
every game in the set, every point in the game and, finally,
every shot in the point. A set is merely a conglomeration of made
and missed shots, and the man who does not miss is the ultimate
victor.
Please do not think I am advocating "pat-ball." I am not. I
believe in playing for your shot every time you have an opening.
I do not believe in trying to win the point every time you hit
the ball. Never allow your concentration on any game to become so
great that you do not at all times know the score and play to it.
I mean both point score and game score. In my explanation of
match play in a later chapter I am going into a detailed account
of playing to the score. It is as vital in tennis as it is in
bridge, and all bridge players know that the score is the
determining factor in your mode of bidding. Let me urge again
concentration. Practise seriously. Do not fool on the court, as
it is the worst enemy to progress. Carelessness or laziness only
results in retrogression, never progress.
Let me turn now to the first principle of all ball games, whether
tennis, golf, cricket, baseball, polo, or football.
KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL!
Just a few statistics to show you how vital it is that the eye
must be kept on the ball UNTIL THE MOMENT OF STRIKING IT.
About 85 per cent of the points in tennis are errors, and the
remainder earned points. As the standard of play rises the
percentage of errors drops until, in the average high-class
tournament match, 60 per cent are errors and 40 per cent aces.
Any average superior to this is super-tennis.
Thus the importance of getting the ball in play cannot be too
greatly emphasized. Every time you put the ball back to your
opponent you give him another chance to miss.
There are several causes for missing strokes. First, and by far
the largest class, is not looking at the ball up to the moment of
striking it. Fully 80 per cent of all errors are caused by taking
the eye from the ball in the last one-fifth of a second of its
flight. The remaining 20 per cent of errors are about 15 per cent
bad footwork, and the other 5 per cent poor racquet work and bad
bounces.
The eye is a small camera. All of us enjoy dabbling in amateur
photography, and every amateur must take "action" pictures with
his first camera. It is a natural desire to attain to the hardest
before understanding how to reach it. The result is one of two
things: either a blurred moving object and a clear background, or
a clear moving object and a blurred background. Both suggest
speed, but only one is a good picture of the object one attempted
to photograph. In the first case the camera eye was focused on
the background and not on the object, while in the second, which
produced the result desired, the camera eye was firmly focused on
the moving object itself. Just so with the human eye. It will
give both effects, but never a clear background and moving object
at the same time, once that object reaches a point 10 feet from
the eye. The perspective is wrong, and the eye cannot adjust
itself to the distance range speedily enough.
Now the tennis ball is your moving object while the court,
gallery, net, and your opponent constitute your background. You
desire to hit the ball cleanly, therefore do not look at the
other factors concerned, but concentrate solely on focusing the
eye firmly on the ball, and watching it until the moment of
impact with your racquet face.
"How do I know where my opponent is, or how much court I have to
hit in?" ask countless beginners.
Remember this: that a tennis court is always the same size, with
the net the same height and in the same relation to you at all
times, so there is no need to look at it every moment or so to
see if it has moved. Only an earthquake can change its position.
As to your opponent, it makes little difference about his
position, because it is determined by the shot you are striving
to return. Where he will be I will strive to explain in my
chapter on court position; but his whereabouts are known without
looking at him. You are not trying to hit him. You strive to miss
him. Therefore, since you must watch what you strive to hit and
not follow what you only wish to miss, keep your eye on the ball,
and let your opponent take care of himself.
Science has proved that given a tennis ball passing from point A
to point B with the receiving player at B, that if the player at
B keeps his eye on the ball throughout its full flight his chance
of making a good
A 1 2 3 4 B
-------------------------------
return at B is five times as great as if he took his eye off the
ball at a point 4, or 4/5 of a second of its flight. Likewise it
is ten times as great at B as it is if the eye is removed from
the ball at 3, or 3/5 of a second of its flight. Why increase
your chances of error by five times or ten times when it is
unnecessary?
The average player follows the ball to 4, and then he takes a
last look at his opponent to see where he is, and by so doing
increases his chance of error five times. He judges the flight of
the ball some 10 feet away, and never really sees it again until
he has hit it (if he does). A slight deflection caused by the
wind or a small misjudgment of curve will certainly mean error.
Remembering the 85 percent errors in tennis, I again ask you if
it is worth while to take the risk?
There are many other reasons why keeping the eye on the ball is a
great aid to the player. It tends to hold his attention so that
outside occurrences will not distract. Movements in the gallery
are not seen, and stray dogs, that seem to particularly enjoy
sleeping in the middle of a tennis court during a hard match, are
not seen on their way to their sleeping quarters. Having learned
the knack of watching the ball at all times, I felt that nothing
would worry me, until three years ago at the American
Championships, when I was playing T. R. Pell. A press- camera man
eluded the watchful eye of the officials, and unobtrusively
seated himself close to our sideline to acquire some action
pictures. Pell angled sharply by to my backhand, and I ran at my
hardest for the shot, eyes fixed solely on the ball. I hauled off
to hit it a mighty drive, which would have probably gone over the
backstop, when suddenly I heard a camera click just under me, and
the next moment camera, pressman, and tennis player were rolling
in a heap all over the court. The pressman got his action picture
and a sore foot where I walked on him, and all I got was a sore
arm and a ruffled temper. That's why I don't like cameras right
under my nose when I play matches, but for all that I still
advocate keeping your eye on the ball.
GRIP, FOOTWORK, AND STROKES
Footwork is weight control. It is correct body position for
strokes, and out of it all strokes should grow. In explaining the
various forms of stroke and footwork I am writing as a right-hand
player. Left- handers should simply reverse the feet.
Racquet grip is a very essential part of stroke, because a faulty
grip will ruin the finest serving. There is the so-called Western
or Californian grip as typified by Maurice E. M'Loughlin, Willis,
E. Davis, and, to a slightly modified degree, W. M. Johnston, the
American champion. It is a natural grip for a top forehand drive.
It is inherently weak for the backhand, as the only natural shot
is a chop stroke.
The English grip, with the low wrist on all ground strokes, has
proved very successful in the past. Yet the broken line of the
arm and hand does not commend itself to me, as any broken line is
weak under stress.
The Eastern American grip, which I advocate, is the English grip
without the low wrist and broken line. To acquire the forehand
grip, hold the racquet with the edge of the frame towards the
ground and the face perpendicular, the handle towards the body,
and "shake hands" with it, just as if you were greeting a friend.
The handle settled comfortably and naturally into the hand, the
line of the arm, hand, and racquet are one. The swing brings the
racquet head on a line with the arm, and the whole racquet is
merely an extension of it.
The backhand grip is a quarter circle turn of hand on the handle,
bringing the hand on top of the handle and the knuckles directly
up. The shot travels ACROSS the wrist.
This is the best basis for a grip. I do not advocate learning
this grip exactly, but model your natural grip as closely as
possible on these lines without sacrificing your own comfort or
individuality.
Having once settled the racquet in the hand, the next question is
the position of the body and the order of developing strokes.
In explaining footwork I am, in future, going to refer in all
forehand shots to the right foot as R or "back" foot, and to the
left as L or "front." For the backhand the L foot is "back" and R
is "front."
All tennis strokes, should be made with the body' at right angles
to the net, with the shoulders lined up parallel to the line of
flight of the ball. The weight should always travel forward. It
should pass from the back foot to the front foot at the moment of
striking the ball. Never allow the weight to be going away from
the stroke. It is weight that determines the "pace" of a stroke;
swing that, decides the "speed."
Let me explain the definitions of "speed" and "pace." "Speed" is
the actual rate with which a ball travels through the air. "Pace"
is the momentum with which it comes off the ground. Pace is
weight. It is the "sting" the ball carries when it comes off the
ground, giving the inexperienced or unsuspecting player a shock
of force which the stroke in no way showed.
Notable examples of "pace" are such men as W. A. Larned, A. W.
Gore, J. C. Parke, and among the younger players, R. N. Williams,
Major A. R. F. Kingscote, W. M. Johnston, and, on his forehand
stroke, Charles S. Garland.
M. E. M'Loughlin, Willis E. Davis, Harold Throckmorton and
several others are famous "speed" exponents.
A great many players have both "speed" and "pace." Some shots may
carry both.
The order of learning strokes should be:
1. The Drive. Fore- and backhand. This is the foundation of all
tennis, for you cannot build up a net attack unless you have the
ground stroke to open the way. Nor can you meet a net attack
successfully unless you can drive, as that is the only successful
passing shot.
2. The Service.
3. The Volley and Overhead Smash.
4. The Chop or Half Volley and other incidental and ornamental
strokes.
CHAPTER II. THE DRIVE
The forehand drive is the opening of every offensive in tennis,
and, as such, should be most carefully studied. There are certain
rules of footwork that apply to all shots. To reach a ball that
is a short distance away, advance the foot that is away from the
shot and thus swing into position to hit. If a ball is too close
to the body, retreat the foot closest to the shot and drop the
weight back on it, thus, again, being in position for the stroke.
When hurried, and it is not possible to change the foot position,
throw the weight on the foot closest to the ball.
The receiver should always await the service facing the net, but
once the serve is started on the way to court, the receiver
should at once attain the position to receive it with the body at
right angles to the net.
The forehand drive is made up of one continuous swing of the
racquet that, for the purpose of analysis, may be divided into
three parts:
1. The portion of the swing behind the body, which determines the
speed of the stroke.
2. That portion immediately in front of the body which determines
the direction and, in conjunction with weight shift from one foot
to the other, the pace of the shot.
3. The portion beyond the body, comparable to the golfer's
"follow through," determines spin, top or slice, imparted to the
ball.
All drives should be topped. The slice shot is a totally
different stroke.
To drive straight down the side-line, construct in theory a
parallelogram with two sides made up of the side-line and your
shoulders, and the two ends, the lines of your feet, which
should, if extended, form the right angles with the side-lines.
Meet the ball at a point about 4 to 4 1/2 feet from the body
immediately in front of the belt buckle, and shift the weight
from the back to the front foot at the MOMENT OF STRIKING THE
BALL. The swing of the racquet should be flat and straight
through. The racquet head should be on a line with the hand, or,
if anything, slightly in advance; the whole arm and the racquet
should turn slightly over the ball as it leaves the racquet face
and the stroke continue to the limit of the swing, thus imparting
top spin to the ball.
The hitting plane for all ground strokes should be between the
knees and shoulders. The most favourable plane is on a line with
the waist.
In driving across the court from the right (or No. 1) court,
advance the L or front foot slightly towards the side-line and
shift the weight a fraction of a second sooner. As the weight
shifts, pivot slightly on the L foot and drive flat, diagonally,
across the court. Do not "pull" your cross-court drive, unless
with the express purpose of passing the net man and using that
method to disguise your shot.
NEVER STEP AWAY FROM THE BALL IN DRIVING CROSS COURT. ALWAYS
THROW YOUR WEIGHT IN THE SHOT.
The forehand drive from the No. 2 (or left) court is identically
the same for the straight shot down your opponent's forehand. For
the cross drive to his backhand, you must conceive of a diagonal
line from your backhand corner to his, and thus make your stroke
with the footwork as if this imaginary line were the side-line.
In other words, line up your body along your shot and make your
regular drive. Do not try to "spoon" the ball over with a delayed
wrist motion, as it tends to slide the ball off your racquet.
All drives should be made with a stiff, locked wrist. There is no
wrist movement in a true drive. Top spin is imparted by the arm,
not the wrist.
The backhand drive follows closely the principles of the
forehand, except that the weight shifts a moment sooner, and the
R or front foot should always be advanced a trifle closer to the
side-line than the L so as to bring the body clear of the swing.
The ball should be met in front of the right leg, instead of the
belt buckle, as the great tendency in backhand shots is to slice
them out of the side-line, and this will pull the ball cross
court, obviating this error. The racquet head must be slightly in
advance of the hand to aid in bringing the ball in the court. Do
not strive for too much top spin on your backhand.
I strongly urge that no one should ever favour one department of
his game, in defence of a weakness. Develop both forehand and
backhand, and do not "run around" your backhand, particularly in
return of service. To do so merely opens your court. If you
should do so, strive to ace your returns, because a weak effort
would only result in a kill by your opponent.
Do not develop one favourite shot and play nothing but that. If
you have a fair cross-court drive, do not use it in practice, but
strive to develop an equally fine straight shot.
Remember that the fast shot is the straight shot. The cross drive
must be slow, for it has not the room owing to the increased
angle and height of the net. Pass down the line with your drive,
but open the court with your cross-court shot.
Drives should have depth. The average drive should hit behind the
service-line. A fine drive should hit within 3 feet of the
baseline. A cross-court drive should be shorter than a straight
drive, so as to increase the possible angle. Do not always play
one length drive, but learn to vary your distance according to
your man. You should drive deep against a baseliner, but short
against a net player, striving to drop them at his feet as, he
comes in.
Never allow your opponent to play a shot he likes if you can
possibly force him to one he dislikes.
Again I urge that you play your drive:
1. With the body sideways to the net.
2. The swing flat, with long follow through.
3. The weight shifting just as the ball is hit.
Do not strive for terrific speed at first. The most essential
thing about a drive is to put the ball in play. I once heard
William A. Larned remark, when asked the most important thing in
tennis, "Put the ball over the net into the other man's court."
Accuracy first, and then put on your speed, for if your shot is
correct you can always learn, to hit hard.
CHAPTER III. SERVICE
Service is the opening gun of tennis. It is putting the ball in
play. The old idea was that service should never be more than
merely the beginning of a rally. With the rise of American tennis
and the advent of Dwight Davis and Holcombe Ward, service took on
a new significance. These two men originated what is now known as
the American Twist delivery.
From a mere formality, service became a point winner. Slowly it
gained in importance, until Maurice E. M'Loughlin, the wonderful
"California Comet," burst across the tennis sky with the first of
those terrific cannon-ball deliveries that revolutionized the
game, and caused the old-school players to send out hurry calls
for a severe footfault rule or some way of stopping the
threatened destruction of all ground strokes. M'Loughlin made
service a great factor in the game. It remained for R. N.
Williams to supply the antidote that has again put service in the
normal position of mere importance, not omnipotence. Williams
stood in on the delivery and took it on the rising bound.
Service must be speedy. Yet speed is not the be-all and end-all.
Service must be accurate, reliable, and varied. It must be used
with discretion and served with brains. I believe perfect service
is about 40 per cent placement, 40 per cent speed, and 20 per
cent twist.
Any tall player has an advantage over a short one, in service.
Given a man about 6 feet and allow him the 3 feet added by his
reach, it has been proved by tests that should he deliver a
service, perfectly flat, with no variation caused by twist or
wind, that just cleared the net at its lowest point (3 feet in
the centre), there is only a margin of 8 inches of the service
court in which the ball can possibly fall; the remainder is below
the net angle. Thus it is easy to see how important it is to use
some form of twist to bring the ball into court. Not only must it
go into court, but it must be sufficiently speedy that the
receiver does not have an opportunity of an easy kill. It must
also be placed so as to allow the server an advantage for his
next return, admitting the receiver puts the ball in play.
Just as the first law of receiving is to, put the ball in play,
so of service it is to cause the receiver to fall into error. Do
not strive unduly for clean aces, but use your service to upset
the ground strokes of your opponent.
There are several style services in vogue in all countries. The
American twist has become one of the most popular forms of
delivery and as such deserves special treatment. The usual forms
of service are (1) the slice service, (2) the American twist, (3)
the reverse delivery, (4) the "cannon ball" or flat serve.
The slice service is the easiest and most natural form for all
beginners, and proves so effective that many great players use
it. It is the service of William M. Johnston, A. R. F. Kingscote,
Norman E. Brookes, and many others.
Service should be hit from as high a point as the server can
COMFORTABLY reach. To stretch unnecessarily is both wearing on
the server and unproductive of results.
The slice service should be hit from a point above the right
shoulder and as high as possible. The server should stand at
about a forty-five degree angle to the baseline, with both feet
firmly planted on the ground. Drop the weight back on the right
foot and swing the racquet freely and easily behind the back.
Toss the ball high enough into the air to ensure it passing
through the desired hitting plane, and then start a slow shift of
the weight forward, at the same time increasing the power of the
swing forward as the racquet commences its upward flight to the
ball. Just as the ball meets the racquet face the weight should
be thrown forward and the full power of the swing smashed into
the service. Let the ball strike the racquet INSIDE the face of
the strings, with the racquet travelling directly towards the
court. The angle of the racquet face will impart the twist
necessary to bring the ball in court. The wrist should be
somewhat flexible in service. If necessary lift the right foot
and swing the whole body forward with the arm. Twist slightly to
the right, using the left foot as a pivot. The general line of
the racquet swing is from RIGHT to LEFT and always forward.
At this point and before I take up the other branches of serving,
let me put in a warning against footfaulting. I can only say that
a footfault is crossing or touching the line with either foot
before the ball is delivered, or it is a jump or step. I am not
going into a technical discussion of footfaults. It is
unnecessary, and by placing your feet firmly before the service
there is no need to footfault.
It is just as unfair to deliberately footfault as to miscall a
ball, and it is wholly unnecessary. The average footfault is due
to carelessness, over-anxiety, or ignorance of the rule. All
players are offenders at times, but it can quickly be broken up.
Following this outburst of warning let me return to the American
twist service. The stance for this is the same as for the slice,
but the ball is thrown slightly to the left of the head while the
racquet passes up and over the call, travelling from left to
right and slightly forward. The result is a curve to the left and
the break of the bound to the right. This service is not fast,
but gives an excellent chance to follow to the net, since it
travels high and slowly and its bound is deep. The American twist
service should be hit with the muscles of the side. The slice is
a shoulder swing.
The reverse twist is of an absolutely distinct type. The stance
is facing the net with both toes fronting the line. The racquet
is gripped as a club. The ball is thrown in front of the body and
not high. The swing is a sharp wrist twist from right to left,
the ball carried for some distance on the face of the racquet.
The curve is from left to right while the bound is high and
breaks sharply to the left. This delivery is slow, ineffective
and very uncertain. There is little opportunity to follow it to
the net.
The "cannon-ball" service is nothing but a slice as regards swing
and stance, but it is hit with a flat racquet face, thus
imparting no spin to the ball. It is a case of speed alone. This
service is a point winner when it goes in; but its average must
necessarily be poor since its margin of error is so small. It is
only useful to a tall man.
Varied pace and varied speed is the keynote to a good service. I
spent hours in serving alone, striving to disguise the twist and
pace of the ball. I would take a box of a dozen balls out on the
court and serve the whole dozen to No. 1 court with one style of
delivery. Then, crossing, I would serve them back with another
type of service. Next, I would try the left court from both
sides. My next move would be to pick out a certain section of the
service court, and serve for that until I could put the ball
where I wanted it. Finally, I would strive to put it there with
speed.
All the time spent in this practice has stood me in good stead,
for to-day it is my service that pulls me out of many a deep
hole, and causes many a player to wish he was delivering the
ball. William M. Johnston, the American Champion, has a
remarkable service for so short a man. He times his stroke
perfectly, and hits it at the top of his reach, so that he gets
the full benefit of every inch of his stature and every pound of
his weight. He uses the slice delivery in the majority of
matches.
Do not try freak services. They are useless against high-class
players. Sharp breaking underhand cuts can be easily angled off
for points by a man who knows anything of the angles and effects
of twist. These deliveries are affectation if used more than once
or twice in a long match. A sudden shift may surprise your
opponent; but to continue to serve these freaks is to destroy
their use.
Mishu, the Rumanian star, has many very peculiar deliveries; but,
when playing against high-class tennis, he has brains enough to
use a straight service. The freak services delight and yet annoy
a gallery, for once the novelty has worn off, nothing but the
conceit remains.
The object of service is to obtain the maximum return with the
minimum effort. This statement holds true for all tennis strokes,
but in none so strongly as in service.
The average player hits, his first service so hard, and with so
little regard for direction, that about nine out of ten first
deliveries are faults. Thus, one half your chances are thrown
away, and the chance of double faulting increased
proportionately.
There is a well-known tennis saying to the effect that one fault
is a mistake, but two faults are a crime--that sums up the idea
of service adequately. A player should always strive to put his
first delivery in court. In the first place it is apt to catch
your opponent napping, as he half expects a fault. Secondly, it
conserves your energy by removing the need of a second delivery,
which, in a long five-set match, is an item of such importance
that it may mean victory or defeat.
I urge all players to put their service into court with just as
much speed as they can be sure of, but to serve both deliveries
at about the same speed. Do not slog the first ball and pat the
second, but hit both with average pace.
Try for service aces whenever reasonable, but never do so at the
risk of double faulting. The first ball is the ball to ace. The
second should never be risked. Your aces must at least equal your
double faults, or your service is a handicap and not an
advantage.
The importance of service in doubles is more pronounced than in
singles as regards holding it; but the need for individual
brilliancy is not so great, as you have a partner already at the
net to kill off any weak returns.
Service is an attack, and a successful attack should never break
down.
CHAPTER IV. THE VOLLEY AND OVERHEAD SMASH
The net attack is the heavy artillery of tennis. It is supposed
to crush all defence. As such it must be regarded as a
point-winning stroke at all times, no matter whether the shot is
volley or smash.
Once at the net hit from the point at the first opportunity given
to get the racquet squarely on the ball. All the laws of footwork
explained for the drive are theoretically the same in volleying.
In practice you seldom have time to change your feet to a set
position, so you obviate trouble by throwing the weight on the
foot nearest to the ball and pushing it in the shot.
Volleys are of two classes: (1) the low volley, made from below
the waist; and (2) the high volley, from the waist to the head.
In contradistinction to the hitting plane classification are the
two styles known as (1) the deep volley and (2) the stop volley.
All low volleys are blocked. High volleys may be either blocked
or hit. Volleys should never be stroked. There is no follow
through on a low volley and very little on a high one.
You will hear much talk of "chop" volleys. A chop stroke is one
where the racquet travels from above the line of flight of the
ball, down and through it, and the angle made behind the racquet
is greater than 45 degrees, and many approach 90 degrees.
Therefore I say that no volleys should be chopped, for the
tendency is to pop the ball up in the air off any chop. Slice
volleys if you want to, or hit them flat, for both these shots
are made at a very small angle to the flight-line of the ball,
the racquet face travelling almost along its plane.
In all volleys, high or low, the wrist should be locked and
absolutely stiff. It should always be below the racquet head,
thus bracing the racquet against the impact of the ball. Allow
the force of the incoming shot, plus your own weight, to return
the ball, and do not strive to "wrist" it over. The tilted
racquet face will give any required angle to the return by
glancing the ball off the strings, so no wrist turn is needed.
Low volleys can never be hit hard, and owing to the height of the
net should usually be sharply angled, to allow distance for the
rise. Any ball met at a higher plane than the top of the net may
be hit hard. The stroke should be crisp, snappy, and decisive,
but it should stop as it meets the ball. The follow through
should be very small. Most low volleys should be soft and short.
Most high volleys require speed and length.
The "stop" volley is nothing more than a shot blocked short.
There is no force used. The racquet simply meets the oncoming
ball and stops it. The ball rebounds and falls of its own weight.
There is little bounce to such a shot, and that may be reduced by
allowing the racquet to slide slightly under the ball at the
moment of impact, thus imparting back spin to the ball.
Volleying is a science based on the old geometric axiom that a
straight line is the shortest distance between two points. I mean
that a volleyer must always cover the straight passing shot since
it is the shortest shot with which to pass him, and he must
volley straight to his opening and not waste time trying freakish
curving volleys that give the base- liner time to recover. It is
Johnston's great straight volley that makes him such a dangerous
net man. He is always "punching" his volley straight and hard to
the opening in his opponent's court.
A net player must have ground strokes in order to attain the net
position. Do not think that a service and volley will suffice
against first-class tennis.
I am not a believer in the "centre" theory. Briefly expressed the
centre theory is to hit down the middle of the court and follow
to the net, since the other player has the smallest angle to pass
you. That is true, but remember that he has an equal angle on
either side and, given good ground strokes, an equal chance to
pass with only your guess or intention to tell you which side he
will choose.
I advise hitting to the side-line with good length and following
up to the net, coming in just to the centre side of the straight
returns down the line. Thus the natural shot is covered and your
opponent's court is opened for an angle volley 'cross. Should
your opponent try the cross drive, his chances of beating you
clean and keeping the ball in court are much less than his
chances of error.
Strive to kill your volleys at once, but should your shot not
win, follow the ball 'cross and again cover the straight shot.
Always force the man striving to pass you to play the hardest
possible shot.
Attack with your volleys. Never defend the ball when at the net.
The only defensive volley is one at your feet as you come in. It
is a mid-court shot. Volleys should win with placement more than
speed, although speed may be used on a high volley.
Closely related to the volley, yet in no way a volley stroke, is
the overhead smash. It is the Big Bertha of tennis. It is the
long range terror that should always score. The rules of
footwork, position, and direction that govern the volley will
suffice for the overhead. The swing alone is different. The swing
should be closely allied to the slice service, the racquet and
arm swinging freely from the shoulder, the wrist flexible and the
racquet imparting a slight twist to the ball to hold it in court.
The overhead is mainly a point winner through speed, since its
bounce is so high that a slow placement often allows time for a
recovery.
The overhead is about 60 per cent speed, and 40 per cent combined
place and twist. Any overhead shot taken on or within the
service-line should be killed. Any overhead, behind the
service-line, and back to the baseline, should be defended and
put back deep to, allow you another advance to the net.
The average overhead shot that is missed is netted. Therefore hit
deep. It is a peculiar fact that over 75 per cent of all errors
are nets with only 25 per cent outs. Let this be a constant
reminder to you of the fact that all ground strokes should have a
clear margin of safety of some 8 inches to a foot above the net,
except when attempting to pass a very active volleyer. In the
latter case the shot must be low, and the attendant risk is
compensated by the increased chances of winning the point with a
pass.
Do not leap in the air unnecessarily to hit overhead balls. Keep
at least one foot, and when possible both feet, on the ground in
smashing, as it aids in regulating the weight, and gives better
balance. Hit flat and decisively to the point if desired.
Most missed overhead shots are due to the eye leaving the ball;
but a second class of errors are due to lack of confidence that
gives a cramped, half- hearted swing. Follow through your
overhead shot to the limit of your swing.
The overhead is essentially a doubles shot, because in singles
the chances of passing the net man are greater than lobbing over
his head, while in doubles two men cover the net so easily that
the best way to open the court is to lob one man back.
In smashing, the longest distance is the safest shot since it
allows a greater margin of error. Therefore smash 'cross court
when pressed, but pull your short lobs either side as determined
by the man you are playing.
Never drop a lob you can hit overhead, as it forces you back and
gives the attacking position to your opponent. Never smash with a
reverse twist, always hit with a straight racquet face and direct
to the opening.
Closely connected to the overhead since it is the usual defence
to any hard smash, is the lob.
A lob is a high toss of the ball landing between the service-line
and the baseline. An excellent lob should be within 6 feet of the
baseline.
Lobs are essentially defensive. The ideas in lobbing are: (1) to
give yourself time to recover position when pulled out of court
by your opponent's shot; (2) to drive back the net man and break
up his attack; (3) to tire your opponent; (4) occasionally to,
win cleanly by placement. This is usually a lob volley from a
close net rally, and is a slightly different stroke.
There is (1) the chop lob, a heavily under-cut spin that hangs in
the air. This, is the best defensive lob, as it goes high and
gives plenty of time to recover position. (2) The stroke lob or
flat lob, hit with a slight top spin. This is the point-winning
lob since it gives no time to, the player to run around it, as it
is lower and faster than the chop. In making this lob, start your
swing like a drive, but allow the racquet to slow up and the face
to tilt upward just as you meet the ball. This, shot should
seldom go above 10 feet in the air, since it tends to go out with
the float of the ball.
The chop lob, which is a decided under cut, should rise from 20
to 30 feet, or more, high and must go deep. It is better to lob
out and run your opponent back, thus tiring him, than to lob
short and give him confidence by an easy kill. The value of a lob
is mainly one of upsetting your opponent, and its effects are
very apparent if you unexpectedly bring off one at the crucial
period of a match.
I owe one of my most notable victories to a very timely and
somewhat lucky lob. I was playing Norman E. Brookes in the fifth
round of the American Championships at Forest Hills, in 1919. The
score stood one set all, 3-2 and 30-15, Brookes serving. In a
series of driving returns from his forehand to my backhand, he
suddenly switched and pounded the ball to my forehand corner and
rushed to the net. I knew Brookes crowded the net, and with 40-15
or 30-all at stake on my shot, I took a chance and tossed the
ball up in the air over Brookes' head. It was not a great lob,
but it was a good one. For once Brookes was caught napping,
expecting a drive down the line. He hesitated, then turned and
chased the ball to the back stop, missing it on his return. I
heard him grunt as he turned, and knew that he was badly winded.
He missed his volley off my return of the next service, and I led
at 30-40. The final point of the game came when he again threw me
far out of court on my forehand, and, expecting the line drive
again, crowded the net, only to have the ball rise in the air
over his head. He made a desperate effort at recovery, but
failed, and the game was mine: 3-all. It proved the turning-point
in the match, for it not only tired Brookes, but it forced him to
hang back a little from the net so as to protect his overhead, so
that his net attack weakened opportunely, and I was able to nose
out the match in 4 sets.
Another famous match won by a lob was the Johnston-Kingscote
Davis Cup Match at Wimbledon, in 1920. The score stood 2 sets
all, and 5-3 Kingscote leading with Kingscote serving and the
score 30-all. Johnston served and ran in. Kingscote drove sharply
down Johnston's forehand side-line. Johnston made a remarkable
recovery with a half volley, putting the ball high in the air and
seemingly outside. A strong wind was blowing down the court and
caught the ball and held its flight. It fell on the baseline.
Kingscote made a remarkable recovery with a fine lob that forced
Johnston back. Kingscote took the net and volleyed decisively to
Johnston's backhand. Johnston again lobbed, and by a freak of
coincidence the ball fell on the baseline within a foot of his
previous shot. Kingscote again lobbed in return, but this time
short, and Johnston killed it. Johnston ran out the game in the
next two points.
If a shot can win two such matches as these, it is a shot worth
learning to use, and knowing when to use. The lob is one of the
most useful and skilful shots in tennis. It is a great defence
and a fine attack.
The strokes already analysed, drive, service, volley, overhead
and lob, are the orthodox strokes of tennis, and should be at
every player's command. These are the framework of your game. Yet
no house is complete with framework alone. There are certain
trimmings, ornaments, and decorations necessary. There are the
luxuries of modern improvements, and tennis boasts of such
improvements in the modern game.
Among the luxuries, some say the eccentricities, of the modern
game one finds (1) the chop stroke, (2) the slice stroke (a close
relative), (3) the drop shot, (4) the half-volley or "trap" shot.
All these shots have their use. None should be considered a stock
shot.
CHAPTER V. CHOP, HALF VOLLEY, AND COURT POSITION
I am called at times a chop-stroke player. I SELDOM CHOP. My
stroke is a slice.
A chop stroke is a shot where the angle towards the player and
behind the racquet, made by the line of flight of the ball, and
the racquet travelling down across it, is greater than 45 degrees
and may be 90 degrees. The racquet face passes slightly OUTSIDE
the ball and down the side, chopping it, as a man chops wood. The
spin and curve is from right to left. It is made with a stiff
wrist. Irving C. Wright, brother of the famous Beals, is a true
chop player, while Beals himself, being a left- hander, chopped
from the left court and sliced from the right.
The slice shot merely reduced the angle mentioned from 45 degrees
down to a very small one. The racquet face passes either INSIDE
or OUTSIDE the ball, according to direction desired, while the
stroke is mainly a wrist twist or slap. This slap imparts a
decided skidding break to the ball, while a chop "drags" the ball
off the ground without break. Wallace F. Johnson is the greatest
slice exponent in the world.
The rules of footwork for both these shots should be the same as
the drive, but because both are made with a short swing and more
wrist play, without the need of weight, the rules of footwork may
be more safely discarded and body position not so carefully
considered.
Both these shots are essentially defensive, and are labour-saving
devices when your opponent is on the baseline. A chop or slice is
very hard to drive, and will break up any driving game.
It is not a shot to use against a volley, as it is too slow to
pass and too high to cause any worry. It should be used to drop
short, soft shots at the feet of the net man as he comes in. Do
not strive to pass a net man with a chop or slice, except through
a big opening.
The drop-shot is a very soft, sharply-angled chop stroke, played
wholly with the wrist. It should drop within 3 to 5 feet of the
net to be of any use. The racquet face passes around the outside
of the ball and under it with a distinct "wrist turn." Do not
swing the racquet from the shoulder in making a drop shot. The
drop shot has no relation to a stop-volley. The drop shot is all
wrist. The stop-volley has no wrist at all.
Use all your wrist shots, chop, slice, and drop, merely as an
auxilliary to your orthodox game. They are intended to upset your
opponent's game through the varied spin on the ball.
THE HALF VOLLEY
I have now reached the climax of tennis skill: the half volley or
trap shot. In other words, the pick-up.
This shot requires more perfect timing, eyesight, and racquet
work than any other, since its margin of safety is smallest and
its manifold chances of mishaps numberless.
It is a pick-up. The ball meets the ground and racquet face at
nearly the same moment, the ball bouncing off the ground, on the
strings. This shot is a stiff-wrist, short swing, like a volley
with no follow through. The racquet face travels along the ground
with a slight tilt over the ball and towards the net, thus
holding the ball low; the shot, like all others in tennis, should
travel across the racquet face, along the short strings. The
racquet face should always be slightly outside the ball.
The half volley is essentially a defensive stroke, since it
should only be made as a last resort, when caught out of position
by your opponent's shot. It is a desperate attempt to extricate
yourself from a dangerous position without retreating. NEVER
DELIBERATELY HALF VOLLEY.
Notwithstanding these truths, there are certain players who have
turned the half volley into a point winner. The greatest half
volleyer of the past decade--in fact, one of the greatest tennis
geniuses of the world--George Caridia, used the stroke
successfully as a point winner. R. N. Williams, the leading
exponent of the stroke in the present day, achieves remarkable
results with it. Major A. R. F. Kingscote wins many a point,
seemingly lost, by his phenomenal half-volley returns,
particularly from the baseline. These men turn a defence into an
attack, and it pays.
So much for the actual strokes of the game. It is in the other
departments such as generalship and psychology that matches are
won. Just a few suggestions as to stroke technique, and I will
close this section.
Always play your shot with a fixed, definite idea of what you are
doing and where it is going. Never hit haphazard.
Play all shots across the short strings of the racquet, with the
racquet head and handle on the same hitting plane for ground
strokes and the head above the handle for volleys. The racquet
head should be advanced slightly beyond the wrist for ground
strokes.
COURT POSITION
A tennis court is 39 feet long from baseline to net. Most players
think all of that territory is a correct place to stand. Nothing
could be farther from the truth. There are only two places in a
tennis court that a tennis player should be to await the ball.
1. About 3 feet behind the baseline near the middle of the court,
or
2. About 6 to 8 feet back from the net and almost opposite the
ball.
The first is the place for all baseline players. The second is
the net position.
If you are drawn out of these positions by a shot which you must
return, do not remain at the point where you struck the ball, but
attain one of the two positions mentioned as rapidly as possible.
The distance from the baseline to about 10, feet from the net may
be considered as "no-man's-land" or "the blank." Never linger
there, since a deep shot will catch you at your feet. After
making your shot from the blank, as you must often do, retreat
behind the baseline to await the return, so you may again come
forward to meet the ball. If you are drawn in short and cannot
retreat safely, continue all the way to the net position.
Never stand and watch your shot, for to do so simply means you
are out of position for your next stroke. Strive to attain a
position so that you always arrive at the spot the ball is going
to before it actually arrives. Do your hard running while the
ball is in the air, so you will not be hurried in your stroke
after it bounces.
It is in learning to do this that natural anticipation plays a
big role. Some players instinctively know where the next return
is going and take position accordingly, while others will never
sense it. It is to the latter class that I urge court position,
and recommend always coming in from behind the baseline to meet
the ball, since it is much easier to run forward than back.
Should you be caught at the net, with a short shot to your
opponent, do not stand still and let him pass you at will, as he
can easily do. Pick out the side where you think he will hit, and
jump to, it suddenly as he swings. If you guess right, you win
the point. If you are wrong, you are no worse off, since he would
have beaten you anyway with his shot.
A notable example of this method of anticipation is Norman E.
Brookes, who instinctively senses the stroke, and suddenly bobs
up in front of your best shot and kills it. Some may say it is
luck, but, to my mind, it is the reward of brain work.
Your position should always strive to be such that you can cover
the greatest possible area of court without sacrificing safety,
since the straight shot is the surest, most dangerous, and must
be covered. It is merely a question of how much more court than
that immediately in front of the ball may be guarded.
A well-grounded knowledge of court position saves many points, to
say nothing of much breath expended in long runs after hopeless
shots.
It is the phenomenal knowledge of court position that allows A.
R. F. Kingscote, a very short man, to attack so consistently from
the net. Wallace F. Johnson is seldom caught out of position, so
his game is one of extreme ease. One seldom sees Johnson running
hard on a tennis court. He is usually there awaiting the ball's
arrival.
Save your steps by using your head. It pays in the end. Time
spent in learning where to play on a tennis court is well
expended, since it returns to you in the form of matches won,
breath saved, and energy conserved.
It is seldom you need cover more than two-thirds of a tennis
court, so why worry about the unnecessary portions of it?
PART II: THE LAWS OF TENNIS PSYCHOLOGY
CHAPTER VI. GENERAL TENNIS PSYCHOLOGY
Tennis psychology is nothing more than understanding the workings
of your opponent's mind, and gauging the effect of your own game
on his mental viewpoint, and understanding the mental effects
resulting from the various external causes on your own mind. You
cannot be a successful psychologist of others without first
understanding your own mental processes, you must study the
effect on yourself of the same happening under different
circumstances. You react differently in different moods and under
different conditions. You must realize the effect on your game of
the resulting irritation, pleasure, confusion, or whatever form
your reaction takes. Does it increase your efficiency? If so,
strive for it, but never give it to your opponent.
Does it deprive you of concentration? If so, either remove the
cause, or if that is not possible strive to ignore it.
Once you have judged accurately your own reaction to conditions,
study your opponents, to decide their temperaments. Like
temperaments react similarly, and you may judge men of your own
type by yourself. Opposite temperaments you must seek to compare
with people whose reactions you know.
A person who can control his own mental processes stands an
excellent chance of reading those of another, for the human mind
works along definite lines of thought, and can be studied. One
can only control one's, mental processes after carefully studying
them.
A steady phlegmatic baseline player is seldom a keen thinker. If
he was he would not adhere to the baseline.
The physical appearance of a man is usually a pretty clear index
to his type of mind. The stolid, easy-going man, who usually
advocates the baseline game, does so because he hates to stir up
his torpid mind to think out a safe method of reaching the net.
There is the other type of baseline player, who prefers to remain
on the back of the court while directing an attack intended to
break up your game. He is a very dangerous player, and a deep,
keen- thinking antagonist. He achieves his results by mixing up
his length and direction, and worrying you with the variety of
his game. He is a good psychologist. Such players include J. C.
Parke, Wallace F. Johnson, and Charles S. Garland. The first type
of player mentioned merely hits the ball with little idea of what
he is doing, while the latter always has a definite plan and
adheres to it. The hard-hitting, erratic, net-rushing player is a
creature of impulse. There is no real system to his attack, no
understanding of your game. He will make brilliant coups on the
spur of the moment, largely by instinct; but there is no, mental
power of consistent thinking. It is an interesting, fascinating
type. Such men as Harold Throckmorton, B. I. C. Norton, and at
times R. N. Williams, are examples, although Williams is really a
better psychologist than this sounds.
The dangerous man is the player who mixes his style from back to
fore court at the direction of an ever-alert mind. This is the
man to study and learn from. He is a player with a definite
purpose. A player who has an answer to every query you propound
him in your game. He is the most subtle antagonist in the world.
He is of the school of Brookes. Second only to him is the man of
dogged determination that sets his mind on one plan and adheres
to it, bitterly, fiercely fighting to the end, with never a
thought of change. He is the man whose psychology is easy to
understand, but whose mental viewpoint is hard to upset, for he
never allows himself to think of anything except the business at
hand. This man is your Johnston or your Wilding. I respect the
mental capacity of Brookes more, but I admire the tenacity of
purpose of Johnston.
Pick out your type from your own mental processes, and then work
out your game along the lines best suited to you. Few of us have
the mental brilliance of Brookes; but all can acquire the dogged
determination of Johnston, even if we have not his tennis
ability.
When two men are, in the same class, as regards stroke equipment,
the determining factor in any given match is the mental
viewpoint. Luck, so-called, is often grasping the psychological
value of a break in the game, and turning it to your own account.
We hear a great deal about the "shots we have made." Few realize
the importance of the "shots we have missed." The science of
missing shots is as important as that of making them, and at
times a miss by an inch is of more value than a, return that is
killed by your opponent.
Let me explain. A player drives you far out of court with an
angle-shot. You run hard to it, and reaching, drive it hard and
fast down the side- line, missing it by an inch. Your opponent is
surprised and shaken, realizing that your shot might as well have
gone in as out. He will expect you to try it again, and will not
take the risk next time. He will try to play the ball, and may
fall into error. You have thus taken some of your opponent's
confidence, and increased his chance of error, all by a miss.
If you had merely popped back that return, and it had been
killed, your opponent would have felt increasingly confident of
your inability to get the ball out of his reach, while you would
merely have been winded without result.
Let us suppose you made the shot down the sideline. It was a
seemingly impossible get. First it amounts to TWO points in that
it took one away from your opponent that should have been his and
gave you one you ought never to have had. It also worries your
opponent, as he feels he has thrown away a big chance.
The psychology of a tennis match is very interesting, but easily
understandable. Both men start with equal chances. Once one man
establishes a real lead, his confidence goes up, while his
opponent worries, and his mental viewpoint becomes poor. The sole
object of the first man is to hold his lead, thus holding his
confidence. If the second player pulls even or draws ahead, the
inevitable reaction occurs with even a greater contrast in
psychology. There is the natural confidence of the leader now
with the second man as well as that great stimulus of having
turned seeming defeat into probable victory. The reverse in the
case of the first player is apt to hopelessly destroy his game,
and collapse follows.
It is this twist in tennis psychology that makes it possible to
win so many matches after they are seemingly lost. This is also
the reason that a man who has lost a substantial lead seldom
turns in the ultimate victory. He cannot rise above the
depression caused by his temporary slump. The value of an early
lead cannot be overestimated. It is the ability to control your
mental processes, and not worry unduly over early reverses, that
makes a great match player.
Playing to the score is the first requisite of a thinking match
player. The two crucial points in any game are the third and
fourth. If the first two points are divided for 15-all, the third
means an advantage gained. If won by you, you should strive to
consolidate it by taking the next for 40-15 and two chances for
game, while if lost, you must draw even at 30-all to have an even
chance for game.
In order to do this, be sure to always put the ball in play
safely, and do not take unnecessary chances, at 15-all or 30-15.
Always make the server work to hold his delivery. It worries him
to serve long games, and increases the nervous strain of the
match.
In the game score the sixth, seventh, and eighth games are the
crux of every close set. These games may mean 4-2 or 3-all, 5-2
or 4-3, the most vital advantage in the match, or 5-3 or 4-all, a
matter of extreme moment to a tiring player. If ahead, you should
strive to hold and increase your lead. If behind, your one hope
of victory rests in cutting down the advantage of the other man
BEFORE one slip means defeat. 5-2 is usually too late to start a
rally, but 4-3 is a real chance.
Never throw away a set because a player has a lead of 4-1, or
even 5-1, unless you already have two sets in a 5-set match, and
do not wish to risk tiring by trying to pull it out, and possibly
failing at 6-4. The great advantage Of 3-1 on your own service is
a stumbling-block for many players, for they unconsciously let up
at the fifth game, thinking they have a 2-game lead. However, by
dropping that game, the score will go 2-3 and 3-all if your
opponent holds service, instead of 1-4 and 4-2, thus retaining a
distinct advantage and discouraging your opponent in that set.
The first set is vital in a 2 out of 3 match. Play for all of it.
The second and third sets are the turning-point in a best of
5-set match. Take the first where possible, but play to the limit
for the next two. Never allow a 3 out of 5-set match to go to,
the fifth set if it is possible to win in less; but never give up
a match until the last point is played, even if you are two sets
and five games down. Some occurrence may turn the tide in your
favour.
A notable example of such a match occurred at Newport, in 1916.
Wallace F. Johnson and Joseph J. Armstrong were playing Ichija
Kumagae, the famous Japanese star, and Harold A. Throckmorton,
then junior Champion of America, in the second round of the
doubles.
It was Kumagae's first year in America, and he did not understand
Americans and their customs well. Kumagae and Throckmorton were
leading one set at 6-0, 5-1, and 40-15, Kumagae serving.
Throckmorton turned and spoke to him, and the Japanese star did
not understand what he said. He served without knowing, and
Armstrong passed him down the centre. Johnson duplicated the feat
in the next court, and Kumagae grew flustered. Throckmorton, not
understanding, tried to steady him without result, as Kumagae
double-faulted to Armstrong, and he, too, grew worried. Both men
began missing, and Johnson and Armstrong pulled out the set and
won the match in a runaway in the last stanza. Johnson and
Armstrong met W. M. Johnston and C. J. Griffin, the National
Champions, in the final and defeated them in five sets,
inflicting the only reverse the title-holders suffered during
their two-year reign as champions.
Another much more regrettable incident occurred in the famous
match between R. L. Murray of California and George M. Church of
New York in the fourth round of the American National
Championship in 1916. George Church, then at the crest of his
wonderful game, had won the first two sets and was leading Murray
in the third, when the famous Californian started a sensational
rally. Murray, with his terrific speed, merry smile, and genial
personality, has always been a popular figure with the public,
and when he began his seemingly hopeless fight, the crowd cheered
him wildly. He broke through Church's service and drew even amid
a terrific din. Church, always a very high-strung, nervous
player, showed that the crowd's partiality was getting on his
nerves. The gallery noticed it, and became more partisan than
ever. The spirit of mob rule took hold, and for once they lost
all sense of sportsmanship. They clapped errors as they rained
from Church's racquet; the great game collapsed under the
terrific strain, and Church's last chance was gone. Murray won
largely as he wanted, in the last two sets. No one regretted the
incident more than Murray himself, for no finer sportsman steps
upon the court than this player, yet there was nothing that could
be done. It was a case of external conditions influencing the
psychology of one man so greatly that it cost him a victory that
was his in justice.
The primary object in match tennis is to break up the other man's
game. The first lesson to learn is to hold your nerve under all
circumstances. If you can break a player's nerve by pounding at a
weakness, do it. I remember winning a 5-set doubles match many
years ago, against a team far over the class of my partner and
myself, by lobbing continually to one man until he cracked under
the strain and threw the match away. He became so afraid of a lob
that he would not approach the net, and his whole game broke up
on account of his lack of confidence. Our psychology was good,
for we had the confidence to continue our plan of attack even
while losing two of the first three sets. His was bad, for he
lost his nerve, and let us know it.
Sensational and unexpected shots at crucial moments have won many
a match. If your opponent makes a marvellous recovery and wins by
it, give him full credit for it, and then forget it, for by
worrying over it you not only lose that point but several others
as, well, while your mind is still wandering. Never lose your
temper over your opponent's good shots. It is bad enough to lose
it at your own bad ones. Remember that usually the loser of a
match plays just as well as the winner allows him. Never lose
your temper at a bad decision. It never pays, and has cost many a
match.
I remember a famous match in Philadelphia, between Wallace F.
Johnson, the fifth ranking player in America, and Stanley W.
Pearson, a local star, in the Interclub tennis league of that
city. Johnson, who had enjoyed a commanding lead of a set and
4-1, had slumped, and Pearson had pulled even at a set-all, and
was leading at 5-1 and 40-15, point set match. He pulled Johnson
far out to the forehand and came to the net. Johnson chopped
viciously down the side-line, but Pearson volleyed to Johnson's
deep backhand corner. Johnson had started RUNNING in that
direction as he hit his return, and arrived almost as Pearson's
volley bounced. Unfortunately Johnson slipped and went down on
both knees, but held his racquet. He reached the ball and chopped
it down the side-line for an earned point before Pearson realized
he had even offered at it.
Pearson was so surprised and angered that he double-faulted for
deuce, and Johnson won the game. Johnson pulled even at 5-all,
before Pearson recovered his equilibrium, and finally won the set
at 17-15. Truly Pearson's lapse at Johnson's marvellous get was a
costly mental break.
Tennis psychology is far more than the effect of certain shots,
made or missed, on the player. One can sum up such things by
saying that every kill gives confidence, every error tends to
destroy it. These things are obvious. The branch of psychology
that is interesting is the reaction on the various players of
different courts, different crowds, and other players.
There is a peculiar atmosphere about the centre court at
Wimbledon that is unique in my knowledge of the game. Certain
players revel in it. The majority do not feel it, and since they
do not sense it, they find only the material disadvantages of
rather bad light, and much noise from the stand, and dislike the
centre court. Personally, I enjoy playing on the centre court at
Wimbledon more than any court I have ever stepped upon.
The traditions of the great players of the past, the notable
personages that make up the parties in the Royal Box and
Committee Box, the honour of a visit from their Majesties the
King and Queen, and, above all, the generous, non-partisan,
sportsmanlike attitude of the British public, make it a unique
privilege to enter the centre court in championship competition.
These things inspire the mind to an almost abnormal keenness. It
is this atmosphere that made N. E. Brookes, Anthony F. Wilding,
A. W. Gore, R. F. and H. L. Doherty more dangerous there than
anywhere else. It is this factor that spurs on J. C. Parke and A.
R. F. Kingscote to their greatest tennis to-day.
The great championship turf at Forest Hills, where the American
Championship is held, offers a unique contrast to Wimbledon.
The age of Wimbledon is its great attraction. It is the spirit of
youth, of progress, of business-like mechanical perfection of
management, and the enormous crowds and attendant enthusiasm that
is the chief attraction at Forest Hills. Fully 15,000 were
present on the closing day of the event in 1919. Orderly,
courteous, enthusiastic, but partisan, the American tennis public
comes out to cheer on its favourite. No people in the world
appreciate visiting players more whole-heartedly and none do more
for their comfort than the American people. It is partisan,
personal, sporting friendliness, warmer yet not so correct as the
manner of the British public, that the Americans give. We have
much to learn from our British friends. Yet I hope we will never
sacrifice the warmth of feeling that at times may run away with
us, yet in the main is the chief attraction of the American
people. It is this enthusiasm that spurs on the men to their
greatest efforts in the National Championship.
The Australian team, Norman E. Brookes, Gerald Patterson,
Randolph Lycett, and R. V. Thomas, who visited the United States,
in 1919, scored a unique personal triumph. The whole gallery
present at the notable match in the Championship, when Patterson
went down to defeat in a terrific 5-set struggle with W. M.
Johnston, rose and cheered Patterson as he walked off the court.
It was a real ovation; a tribute to his sportsmanship, and an
outburst of personal admiration. Brookes was the recipient of an
equal demonstration on his final appearance at Forest Hills. The
stimulus of the surroundings produced the highest tennis of which
these men were capable.
Yet in all championships it is the personal element that is the
moving factor. Personalities are the deciding force in
popularity. Patriotism is partially submerged in personality.
The Davis Cup matches bring out the gamest struggles in the
history of tennis. It is in these unique series of matches that
the fame of Anthony F. Wilding, Norman E. Brookes, J. C. Parke,
B. C. Wright, M. E. M'Loughlin, and others reached its crest. It
was the unselfish giving of one's best, under all conditions, for
the honour of the country that called out the finest tennis in
each man. Parke reached his crest in his memorable defeat of
Brookes. M'Loughlin has never quite equalled his marvellous game
of 1914 against Brookes and Wilding.
It is the psychology of patriotism that brings out this tennis.
Personality is submerged. Unity of purpose as a team, replaces
the object of personal glory that is the keynote of championship.
It is the friendly rivalry of sport, between such men as form the
backbone of tennis in each country, that does more for
international understanding than all the notes ever written from
the White House.
I could go on writing tennis psychology as explained by external
conditions for hundreds of pages, but all I want to do is to
bring to mind a definite idea of the value of the mind in the
game. Stimulate it how you will, a successful tennis player must
admit the value of quick mind. Do it by a desire for personal
glory, or team success, or by a love of competition in matching
your wits against the other man's, but do it some way.
Do, not think that tennis is merely a physical exercise. It is a
mental cock-tail of a very high "kick."
CHAPTER VII. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MATCH PLAY
The first and most important point in match play is to know how
to lose. Lose cheerfully, generously, and like a sportsman. This
is the first great law of tennis, and the second is like unto
it--to win modestly, cheerfully, generously, and like a
sportsman.
The object of match play is to win, but no credit goes to a man
who does not win fairly and squarely. A victory is a defeat if it
is other than fair. Yet again I say to win is the object, and to
do so, one should play to the last ounce of his strength, the
last gasp of his breath, and the last scrap of his nerve. If you
do so and lose, the better man won. If you do not, you have
robbed your opponent of his right of beating your best. Be fair
to both him and yourself.
"The Play's the thing," and in match play a good defeat is far
more creditable than a hollow victory. Play tennis for the game's
sake. Play it for the men you meet, the friends you make, and the
pleasure you may give to the public by the hard- working yet
sporting game that is owed them by their presence at the match.
Many tennis players feel they owe the public nothing, and are
granting a favour by playing. It is my belief that when the
public so honours a player that they attend matches, that player
is in duty bound to give of his best, freely, willingly, and
cheerfully, for only by so doing can he repay the honour paid
him. The tennis star of to-day owes his public as much as the
actor owes the audience, and only by meeting his obligations can
tennis be retained in public favour. The players get their reward
in the personal popularity they gain by their conscientious work.
There is another factor that is even stronger than this, that
will always produce fine tennis in championship events. It is the
competitive spirit that is the breath of life to every true
sportsman: the desire to prove to himself he can beat the best of
the other man; the real regret that comes when he wins, and feels
the loser was not at his best. It is that which has made popular
idols of Anthony F. Wilding, M. E. M'Loughlin, and other famous
players. It is the great attraction of J. C. Parke, A. R. F.
Kingscote, W. M. Johnston, Andre Gobert, W. Laurentz, and many
other stars. It is the sign of a true sportsman.
The keen competitive spirit that stimulates a match player also
increases the nervous strain. This should be recognized by
tournament committees, and the conditions of play should be as
nearly standardized as weather permits.
A tournament committee should never keep a player waiting for an
important match to commence while they scour through the crowd
for linesmen. These necessary, and I trust useful, accessories to
every match of importance should be picked and on hand when the
players appear. A good linesman is a great aid to match tennis. A
poor one may ruin a great battle. Not only will bad decisions
turn the tide by putting a point in the wrong columns, but slow
decisions will often upset players, so they dare not play to the
line kept by slumberous linesmen.
A linesman should take his first judgment as the ball strikes. If
outside he should call "out" at once clearly, decisively, but not
too loudly; a yell is often a shock to the nerves. If the ball is
good he should remain discreetly silent.
The umpire should announce the score after each point in a voice
sufficiently loud to be heard by the entire gallery. His
decisions as to "lets" or balls "not up" should be made only loud
enough to ensure that they are heard by the players. The gallery
has eyes. Following each game, the game score should be called,
giving the leading player's name and the set being played. For
example, "Four games to three, Parke leads. Second set." About
every third game following the completion of the first set, an
announcement as to the winner of the first set is an excellent
idea. The umpire could add to the above announcement, "First set,
Parke, 6-3." This latter announcement is unnecessary when there
is a score board that gives full details of the match.
Tournament committees should see that all courts have sufficient
room behind the baseline and at the sides to insure a player
against running into the stops.
Galleries should strive to retain their appreciation and
enthusiasm until a point is completed, since noise is very
disconcerting to a player. However, all players enjoy an
enthusiastic gallery.
The players themselves must now be considered in relation to the
reaction of the match.
The first thing to fix firmly in your mind in playing a match, is
never to allow your opponent to play a shot he likes if it is
possible to force him to make one he does not. Study your
opponent both on and off the court. Look for a weakness, and,
once finding it, pound it without mercy. Remember that you do not
decide your mode of attack. It is decided for you by the weakness
of your opponent. If he dislikes to meet a netman, go to the net.
If he wants you at the net, stay back and force him to come in.
If he attacks viciously, meet his attack with an equally strong
offensive.
Remember that the strongest defence is to attack, for if the
other man is occupied in meeting your attack, he will have less
time to formulate his own system.
If you are playing a very steady man, do not strive to beat him
at his own game. He is better at it than you in many cases, so go
in and hit to win. On the other hand, if you find that your
opponent is wild and prone to miss, play safe and reap the full
crop of his errors. It saves you trouble and takes his
confidence.
ABOVE ALL, NEVER CHANGE A WINNING GAME.
ALWAYS CHANGE A LOSING GAME, since, as you are getting beaten
that way, you are no worse off and may be better with a new
style.
The question of changing a losing game is a very serious thing.
It is hard to say just when you are really beaten. If you feel
you are playing well yet have lost the first set about 6-3 or
6-4, with the loss of only one service, you should not change.
Your game is not really a losing game. It is simply a case of one
break of service, and might well win the next set. If, however,
you have dropped the first set in a 2 out of 3 match with but one
or two games, now you are outclassed and should try something
else.
Take chances when you are behind, never when ahead. Risks are
only worth while when you have everything to win and nothing to
lose. It may spell victory, and at least will not hasten defeat.
Above all, never lose your nerve or confidence in a match. By so
doing you have handed your opponent about two points a game--a
rather hard handicap to beat at your best.
Never let your opponent know you are worried. Never show fatigue
or pain if it is possible to avoid, since it will only give him
confidence. Remember that he feels just as bad as you, and any
sign of weakening on your part encourages him to go on. In other
words, keep your teeth always in the match.
Don't worry. Don't fuss. Luck evens up in the long run, and to
worry only upsets your own game without affecting your opponent.
A smile wins a lot of points because it gives the impression of
confidence on your part that shakes that of the other man. Fight
all the time. The harder the strain the harder you should fight,
but do it easily, happily, and enjoy it.
Match play, where both men are in the same class as tennis
players, resolves itself into a battle of wits and nerve. The man
who uses the first and retains the second is the ultimate victor.
I do not believe in a man who expects to go through a long
tournament, going "all out" for every match. Conserve your
strength and your finesse for the times you need them, and win
your other matches decisively, but not destructively. Why should
a great star discourage and dishearten a player several classes
below him by crushing him, as he no doubt could? A few games a
set, well earned, would be a big factor in encouraging that
rising player to play in tournaments, while it would in no way
injure the reputation of the star.
Never hurry your opponent by serving before he is fully set to
receive. This is a favourite trick of a few unscrupulous players,
yet is really an unfair advantage. Do your hurrying after the
ball is in play, by running him to unexpected places in the
court. Should anyone attempt to work the hurried service on you,
after several attempts, proving it is intentional, let the ball
go by and say "not ready." The server will shortly realize that
you will take your time regardless of him, and he will slow up.
I do not advocate stalling--nothing is worse. It is a breach of
ethics that is wholly uncalled for. Play the game naturally, and
give your opponent full courtesy in all matters. If you do, you
will receive it in return.
Take every advantage of any and every weakness in your opponent's
game; but never trespass on his rights as regards external
advantages.
Personally I do not believe in "defaulting" a match. To "scratch"
or "retire," as the term goes, is to cheat your opponent of his
just triumph, and you should never do this unless it is
absolutely impossible to avoid. Sickness or some equally
important reason should be the sole cause of scratching, for you
owe the tournament your presence once your entry is in.
Match play should stimulate a player. He should produce his best
under the excitement of competition. Learn your shots in
practice, but use them in matches.
Practice is played with the racquet, matches are won by the mind.
J. C. Parke is a great match player, because he is not only a
great player but a great student of men. He sizes up his
opponent, and seizes every opening and turns it to his own
account. Norman E. Brookes is the greatest match player the world
has ever known, because he is ever ready to change his plan to
meet the strategy of his opponent, and has both the variety of
stroke and versatility of intellect to outguess the other the
majority of times. Brookes is the greatest court general, and, in
my opinion, the finest tennis intellect in the world. His mind is
never so keen and he is never so dangerous as when he is trailing
in an important match. He typifies all that is great in mental
match tennis.
A great star is always at his best in a match, as it stimulates
his mental and physical faculties to the utmost.
Certain players are more effective against some men than others
who are not so good. It is the uncertainty of match tennis that
is its greatest charm. Two men may meet for tennis during a
season, and be so closely matched that each man will win two
matches and the score seem almost one-sided each time. It is a
case of getting the jump on the other player.
During 1919 Johnston and I met four times. Twice he defeated me,
once in four sets, and once in three, while the two victories
that were mine were scored in identically the same number of
sets. The most remarkable meeting of two stars was the series of
matches between R. L. Murray and Ichija Kumagae during the
seasons of 1918 and 1919. In the early stages Murray had a
decided advantage, winning from Kumagae consistently, but by
close scores. Early in 1919 Kumagae unexpectedly defeated Murray
at Buffalo in four sets. From that moment Kumagae held the whip
hand. He defeated Murray at Niagara-on-the-Lake a week later.
Murray barely nosed out the Japanese star at Cleveland in five
sets after Kumagae had the match won, only to have Kumagae again
defeat him in a terrific match at Newport in August.
Kumagae's game is very effective against Murray, because Murray,
essentially a volleyer, could not exchange ground strokes with
the Japanese star player successfully, and could not stand the
terrific pace of rushing the net at every opportunity. Kumagae
conclusively proved his slight superiority over Murray last
season.
Vincent Richards, who is not yet the equal of Murray, scored two
clean-cut victories over Kumagae during the same period. Why
should Richards worry Kumagae, who is certainly Murray's
superior, and yet not cause Murray trouble?
The answer lies in this style of game. Richards uses a peculiar
chop stroke from the baseline that is very steady. He can meet
Kumagae at his own baseline game until he gets a chance to close
in to the net, where his volleying is remarkable. The result is,
against Kumagae's driving he is perfectly at home. Murray is a
vicious net player who swept Richards off his feet. The boy has
not the speed on his ground strokes to pass Murray, who volleys
off his chop for points, and cannot take the net away from him as
he cannot handle the terrific speed of Murray's game. Thus
Murray's speed beats Richards, while Richards' steadiness
troubles Kumagae, yet Kumagae's persistent driving tires Murray
and beats him. What good are comparative scores?
Charles S. Garland always defeats Howard Voshell, yet loses to
men whom Voshell defeats. Williams proves a stumbling-block to
Johnston, yet seldom does well against me.
The moral to be drawn from the ever-interesting upsets that occur
every year, is that the style of your attack should be determined
by the man's weakness you are playing. Suit your style to his
weakness. A chop is the antidote for the drive. The volley is the
answer to a chop, yet a drive is the only safe attack against a
volley. The smash will kill a lob, yet a lob is the surest
defence from a smash. Rather a complicated condition, but one
which it would do well to think over.
The most dangerous enemy to R. N. Williams is a steady baseliner
of second class. Williams is apt to crush a top-flight player in
a burst of superlative terms, yet fall a victim to the erratic
streak that is in him when some second-class player plays patball
with him. Such defeats were his portion at the hands of Ritchie
and Mavrogordato in England, yet on the same trip he scored
notable victories over Parke and Johnston.
Abnormal conditions for match play always tend to affect the
better player more than the poorer, and bring play to a level.
The reason for this is in the fact that the higher the standard
of a player's game, the smaller his margin of error, the more
perfect his bound must be, and any variation from the normal is
apt to spell error. The average player allows himself more
leeway, and unknowingly increases his chances on a bad court. His
shot is not judged to the fraction of an inch in swing as is the
top-flight player, so a slight variation does not affect him.
Many a great match has been ruined by abnormal conditions. Rain
caused Williams' downfall to N. W. Niles in the 1917 American
Championships. Rain and wind marred a great battle between Gobert
and Johnston at Eastbourne in the Davis Cup in 1920.
The clever match player must always be willing to change his game
to meet conditions. Failure to do so may spell defeat.
It is this uncertainty, due to external conditions, that makes
comparative records so useless in judging the relative merits of
two players you know nothing of. Rankings based on mathematical
calculations of scores are absolutely useless and childish,
unless tempered by common sense.
The question of the fitness of conditions of play can never be
standardized. In America you play only if clear. In England
sometimes when clear but more often in rain, judging by the
events I swam through in my recent trip. A match player should
not only be able to play tennis, but should combine the virtues
of an aeroplane and a submarine as well.
CHAPTER VIII. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PHYSICAL FITNESS
Physical fitness is one of the great essentials of match play.
Keenness can only be acquired if the physical, mental, and
nervous systems are in tune. Consistent and systematic training
is essential to a tournament player.
Regular hours of sleep, and regular, hearty food at regular hours
are necessary to keep the body at its highest efficiency. Food is
particularly important. Eat well, but do not over-eat,
particularly immediately before playing. I believe in a large
hearty breakfast on the day of a big match. This should be taken
by nine-thirty. A moderate lunch at about one o'clock if playing
at three. Do not eat very rich food at luncheon as it tends to
slow you up on the court. Do not run the risk of indigestion,
which is the worst enemy to dear eyesight. Rich, heavy food
immediately before retiring is bad, as it is apt to make you
"loggy" on the court the next day.
It is certain injury to touch alcoholic drink in any form during
tournament play. Alcohol is a poison that affects the eye, the
mind, and the wind--three essentials in tennis. Tobacco in
moderation does little harm, although it, too, hits eye and wind.
A man who is facing a long season of tournament play should
refrain from either alcohol or tobacco in any form. Excesses of
any kind are bad for physical condition, and should not be
chanced.
Late hours cause sluggishness of mind and body the next day. It
is very dangerous to risk them before a hard match. The moving
pictures immediately before playing tennis are bad, owing to the
eye strain caused by the flicker of the film and the strong light
of the camera. Lead a normal, healthy life, and conserve your
nervous force wherever possible, as you will need it in the hard
matches.
"Staleness" is the great enemy of players who play long seasons.
It is a case of too much tennis. Staleness is seldom physical
weariness. A player can always recover his strength by rest.
Staleness is a mental fatigue due often to worry or too close
attention to tennis, and not enough variety of thought. Its
symptoms are a dislike for the tennis game and its surroundings,
and a lack of interest in the match when you are on the court. I
advocate a break in training at such a time. Go to the theatre or
a concert, and get your mind completely off tennis. Do your
worrying about tennis while you are playing it, and forget the
unpleasantness of bad play once you are off the court. Always
have some outside interest you can turn to for relaxation during
a tournament; but never allow it to interfere with your tennis
when you should be intent on your game. A nice balance is hard to
achieve, but, once attained is a great aid to a tournament
player. I find my relaxation in auction bridge. I know many other
players who do likewise. Among them are Mrs. Franklin Mallory,
Wallace F. Johnson, W. M. Johnston and Samuel Hardy.
The laws of training should be closely followed before and after
a match. Do not get chilled before a match, as it makes you stiff
and slow. Above all else do not stand around without a wrap after
a match when you are hot or you will catch cold.
Many a player has acquired a touch of rheumatism from wasting
time at the close of his match instead of getting his shower
while still warm. That slight stiffness the next day may mean
defeat. A serious chill may mean severe illness. Do not take
chances.
Change your wet clothes to dry ones between matches if you are to
play twice in a day. It will make you feel better, and also avoid
the risk of cold.
Tournament players must sacrifice some pleasures for the sake of
success. Training will win many a match for a man if he sticks to
it. Spasmodic training is useless, and should never be attempted.
The condition a player is, in is apt to decide his mental
viewpoint, and aid him in accustoming himself to the external
conditions of play.
All match players should know a little about the phenomenon of
crowd-psychology since, as in the case of the Church-Murray match
I related some time back, the crowd may play an important part in
the result.
It seldom pays to get a crowd down on you. It always pays to win
its sympathy. I do not mean play to the gallery, for that will
have the opposite effect than the one desired.
The gallery is always for the weaker player. It is a case of
helping the "under-dog." If you are a consistent winner you must
accustom yourself to having the gallery show partiality for your
opponent. It is no personal dislike of you. It is merely a
natural reaction in favour of the loser. Sometimes a bad decision
to one play will win the crowd's sympathy for him. Galleries are
eminently just in their desires, even though at times their
emotions run away with them.
Quite aside from the effect on the gallery, I wish to state here
that when you are the favoured one in a decision that you know is
wrong, strive to equalize it if possible by unostentatiously
losing the next point. Do not hit the ball over the back stop or
into the bottom of the net with a jaunty air of "Here you are."
Just hit it slightly out or in the net, and go on about your
business in the regular way. Your opponent always knows when you
extend him this justice, and he appreciates it, even though he
does not expect it. Never do it for effect. It is extremely bad
taste. Only do it when your sense of justice tells you you
should.
The crowd objects, and justly so, to a display of real temper on
the court. A player who loses his head must expect a poor
reception from the gallery. Questioned decisions by a player only
put him in a bad light with the crowd and cannot alter the point.
You may know the call was wrong, but grin at it, and the crowd
will join you. These things are the essence of good
sportsmanship, and good sportsmanship will win any gallery. The
most unattractive player in the world will win the respect and
admiration of a crowd by a display of real sportsmanship at the
time of test.
Any player who really enjoys a match for the game's sake will
always be a fine sportsman, for there is no amusement to a match
that does not give your opponent his every right. A player who
plays for the joy of the game wins the crowd the first time he
steps on the court. All the world loves an optimist.
The more tennis I play, the more I appreciate my sense of humour.
I seldom play a match when I do not get a smile out of some
remark from the gallery, while I know that the gallery always
enjoys at least one hearty laugh at my expense. I do not begrudge
it them, for I know how very peculiar tennis players in general,
and myself in particular, appear when struggling vainly to reach
a shot hopelessly out of reach.
Two delightful elderly ladies were witnessing Charles S. Garland
and myself struggle against Mavrogordato, and Riseley at the
Edgbaston tournament in England in 1920. One turned to the other
and said: "Those are the Americans!"
"Oh," said the second lady resignedly, "I thought so. The tall
one [meaning me] looks rather queer."
During the Davis Cup match against the French at Eastbourne, I
went on the court against Laurentz in my blue "woolly" sweater.
The day was cold, and I played the match 4-1 in Laurentz' favour,
still wearing it. I started to remove it at the beginning of the
sixth game, when the gallery burst into loud applause, out of
which floated a sweet feminine voice: "Good! Now maybe the poor
boy will be able to play!"
For the first time I realized just what the gallery thought of my
efforts to play tennis, and also of the handicap of the famous
"blue-bearskin" as they termed it.
My favourite expression during my Davis Cup trip happened to be
"Peach" for any particularly good shot by my opponent. The
gallery at the Championship, quick to appreciate any mannerism of
a player, and to, know him by it, enjoyed the remark on many
occasions as the ball went floating by me. In my match with
Kingscote in the final set, the court was very slippery owing to
the heavy drizzle that had been falling throughout the match. At
3-2 in my favour, I essayed a journey to the net, only to have
Kingscote pass me 'cross court to my backhand. I turned and
started rapidly for the shot murmuring "Peach" as I went.
Suddenly my feet went out and I rolled over on the ground,
sliding some distance, mainly on my face. I arose, dripping, just
in time to hear, sotto voce, in the gallery at my side: "A little
bit crushed, that Peach." The sense of humour of the speaker was
delightful. The whole side-line howled with joy, and the joke was
on me.
I am always the goat for the gallery in these little jokes,
because it is seldom I can refrain from saying something loud
enough to be heard.
I remember an incident that caused great joy to a large gallery
in Philadelphia during a match between two prominent local
players. One of the men had been charging the net and volleying
consistently off the frame of his racquet, giving a wonderful
display of that remarkable shot known the world over as "the
mahogany volley." His luck was phenomenal for all his mis-hit
volleys won him points. Finally, at the end of a bitterly
contested deuce game in the last set he again won the deciding
point with a volley off the wood, just as a small insect flew in
his eye.
He called to his opponent: "Just a moment, I have a fly in my
eye."
The disgusted opponent looked up and muttered: "Fly? Huh! I'll
bet it's a splinter!"
There was a certain young player who was notoriously lax in his
eyesight on decisions. He could never see one against himself. He
became noted in his own locality. He and another boy were playing
a team of brothers who were quite famous in the tennis world. One
of these brothers had a very severe service that the local
Captain Kidd could not handle at all. So each time the visiting
player served close to the line, the boy would swing at it, miss
it, and call "Fault!" There was no umpire available and there was
no question of the older team losing, so they let it go for some
time. Finally a service fully 3 feet in was casually called out
by the youngster. This proved too much for the server, who hailed
his brother at the net with the query: "What was wrong that
time?"
"I don't know," came the reply; "unless he called a footfault on
you!"
The assurance of some young players is remarkable. They know far
more about the game of other men than the men themselves. I once
travelled to a tournament with a boy who casually seated himself
beside me in the train and, seeing my tennis bag, opened the
conversation on tennis and tennis players. He finally turned his
attention to various people I knew well, and suddenly burst out
with: "Tilden is a chop-stroke player. I know him well." I let
him talk for about ten minutes, learning things about my game
that I never knew before. Finally I asked his name, which he told
me. In reply he asked mine. The last view I had of him for some
time was a hasty retreat through the door of the car for air.
I played my first match against J. C. Parke at Wimbledon in 1920.
The time before that I had been on the court with him was at
Germantown Cricket Club in 1911, when I acted as ball-boy in the
Davis Cup between him and W. A. Larned. The Junior members of the
club, sons of the members, used to consider it a great honour to
act as ball-boy in these matches, and worked every means to be
picked. I picked up much tennis in those days, for I have worked
at the ball-boy position for Parke, Crawley, Dixon, Larned,
Wright, and Ward.
CHAPTER IX. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SINGLES AND DOUBLES
Singles, the greatest strain in tennis, is the game for two
players. It is in this phase of the game that the personal
equation reaches its crest of importance. This is the game of
individual effort, mental and physical.
A hard 5-set singles match is the greatest strain on the body and
nervous system of any form of sport. Richard Harte and L. C.
Wister, the former a famous Harvard University football and
baseball player, the latter a football star at Princeton, both of
whom are famous tennis players, have told me that a close 5-set
tennis match was far more wearing on them than the biggest
football game they had ever played.
Singles is a game of daring, dash, speed of foot and stroke. It
is a game of chance far more than doubles. Since you have no
partner dependent upon you, you can afford to risk error for the
possibility of speedy victory. Much of what I wrote under match
play is more for singles than doubles, yet let me call your
attention to certain peculiarities of singles from the standpoint
of the spectator.
A gallery enjoys personalities far more than styles. Singles
brings two people into close and active relations that show the
idiosyncrasies of each player far more acutely than doubles. The
spectator is in the position of a man watching an insect under a
microscope. He can analyse the inner workings.
The freedom of restraint felt on a single court is in marked
contrast to the need for team work in doubles. Go out for your
shot in singles whenever there is a reasonable chance of getting
it. Hit harder at all times in singles than in doubles, for you
have more chance of scoring and can take more risk.
Few great singles, players are famous in doubles. Notable
exceptions to the above statement come to mind at once in the
persons of the Dohertys, Norman E. Brookes, and F. B. Alexander.
Yet who could accuse W. M. Johnston, R. N. Williams
(notwithstanding his World's Championship doubles title), Andre
Gobert, the late Anthony F. Wilding, M. E. M'Loughlin, or Gerald
Patterson of playing great doubles? All these men are wonderful
singles players, playing singles on a double court alongside some
suffering partner. The daring that makes for a great singles
player is an eternal appeal to a gallery. None of the notable
doubles players, who have little or no claim to singles fame,
have enjoyed the hero-worship accorded the famous singles stars.
H. Roper-Barrett, Stanley Doust, Harold H. Hackett, Samuel Hardy,
and Holcombe Ward, all doubles players of the very highest order,
were, and are, well liked and deservedly popular, but are not
idolized as were M'Loughlin or Wilding.
Singles is a game of the imagination, doubles a science of exact
angles.
Doubles is four-handed tennis. Enough of this primary reader
definition. I only used that so as not to be accused of trying to
write over the heads of the uninitiated.
It is just as vital to play to your partner in tennis as in
bridge. Every time you make a stroke you must do it with a
definite plan to avoid putting your partner in trouble. The
keynote of doubles success is team work; not individual
brilliancy. There is a certain type of team work dependent wholly
upon individual brilliancy. Where both players are in the same
class, a team is as strong as its weakest player at any given
time, for here it is even team work with an equal division of the
court that should be the method of play. In the case of one
strong player and one weaker player, the team is as good as the
strong player can make it by protecting and defending the weaker.
This pair should develop its team work on the individual
brilliancy of the stronger man.
The first essential of doubles play is to PUT the ball in play. A
double fault is bad in singles, but it is inexcusable in doubles.
The return of service should be certain. After that it should be
low and to the server coming in. Do not strive for clean aces in
doubles until you have the opening. Remember that to pass two men
is a difficult task.
Always attack in doubles. The net is the only place in the court
to play the doubles game, and you should always strive to attain
the net position. There are two formations for the receiving
team: one is the Australian formation with the receiver's partner
standing in to volley the server's return volley; the other is
the English and American style with both men back, thus giving
the net attack to the server. This is safer, but less likely to
produce a winning result unless the team is a wonderful lobbing
combination. Lobbing is a sound defence in doubles, and is used
to open the court.
I believe in always trying for the kill when you see a real
opening. "Poach" (go for a shot which is not really on your side
of the court) whenever you see a chance to score. Never poach
unless you go for the kill. It is a win or nothing shot since it
opens your whole court. If you are missing badly do not poach, as
it is very disconcerting to your partner.
The question of covering a doubles court should not be a serious
one. With all men striving to attain the net all the time every
shot should be built up with that idea. Volley and smash whenever
possible, and only retreat when absolutely necessary.
When the ball goes toward the side-line the net player on that
side goes in close and toward the line. His partner falls
slightly back and to the centre of the court, thus covering the
shot between the men. If the next return goes to the other side,
the two men reverse positions. The theory of court covering is
two sides of a triangle, with the angle in the centre and the two
sides running to the side-lines and in the direction of the net.
Each man should cover overhead balls over his own head, and hit
them in the air whenever possible, since to allow them to drop
gives the net to the other team. The only time for the partner to
protect the overhead is when the net man "poaches," is
outguessed, and the ball tossed over his head. Then the server
covers and strives for a kill at once.
Always be ready to protect your partner, but do not take shots
over his head unless he calls for you to, or you see a certain
kill. Then say "Mine," step in and hit decisively. The matter of
overhead balls, crossing under them, and such incidentals of team
work are matters of personal opinion, and should be arranged by
each team according to their joint views. I only offer general
rules that can be modified to meet the wishes of the individuals.
Use the lob as a defence, and to give time to extricate yourself
and your partner from a bad position. The value of service in
doubles cannot be too strongly emphasized since it gives the net
to the server. Service should always be held. To lose service is
an unpardonable sin in first-class doubles. All shots in doubles
should be low or very high. Do not hit shoulder-high as it is too
easy to kill. Volley down and hard if possible. Every shot you
make should be made with a definite idea of opening the court.
Hit down the centre to disrupt the team work of the opposing
team; but hit to the side-lines for your aces.
Pick one man, preferably the weaker of your opponents, and centre
your attack on him and keep it there. Pound him unmercifully, and
in time he should crack under the attack. It is very foolish to
alternate attack, since it simply puts both men on their game and
tires neither.
If your partner starts badly play safely and surely until he
rounds to form. Never show annoyance with your partner. Do not
scold him. He is doing the best he can, and fighting with him
does no good. Encourage him at all times and don't worry. A team
that is fighting among themselves has little time left to play
tennis, and after all tennis is the main object of doubles.
Offer suggestions to your partner at any time during a match; but
do not insist on his following them, and do not get peevish if he
doesn't. He simply does not agree with you, and he may be right.
Who knows?
Every doubles team should have a leader to direct its play; but
that leader must always be willing to drop leadership for any
given point when his partner has the superior position. It is
policy of attack not type of stroke that the leader should
determine.
Pick a partner and stick to him. He should be a man you like and
want to play with, and he should want to play with you. This will
do away with much friction. His style should not be too nearly
your own, since you double the faults without greatly increasing
the virtues.
I am a great believer in a brilliant man teaming up with a steady
player. Let your steady man keep the ball in play, and allow your
brilliant man all the room he wants to "poach" and kill. Thus you
get the best of both men.
Doubles is a game of finesse more than speed. The great doubles
players, the Dohertys, Norman E. Brookes, the greatest in the
world to-day, Roper Barrett, Beals Wright, and F. B. Alexander,
are all men of subtle finesse rather than terrific speed.
It requires more than speed of shot to beat two men over a
barrier 3 to 3 1/2 feet high with a distance of some 32 feet. It
is angles, pace, and accuracy that should be the aim in a great
doubles game. Resource, versatility, and subtlety, not speed, win
doubles matches.
PART III: MODERN TENNIS AND ITS FUTURE
CHAPTER X. THE GROWTH OF THE MODERN GAME
Lawn tennis is the outgrowth of the old French game of the courts
of the early Louis. It spread to England, where it gained a firm
hold on public favour. The game divided; the original form being
closely adhered to in the game known in America as "Court
tennis," but which is called "Tennis" in England. Lawn tennis
grew out of it.
The old style game was played over a net some 5 feet high, and
the service was always from the same end, the players changing
courts each game. It was more on the style of the present game of
badminton or battledore and shuttlecock.
Gradually the desire for active play had its effect, in a lowered
net and changed laws, and tennis, as we know it, grew into being.
From its earliest period, which is deeply shrouded in mystery,
came the terms of "love" for "nothing" and "deuce" for "40-all."
What they meant originally, or how they gained their hold is
unknown, but the terms are a tradition of the game and just as
much a part of the scoring system as the "game" or "set" call.
In 1920 the Rules Committee of the American Tennis Association
advocated a change in scoring that replaced love, 15, 30, 40 with
the more comprehensive 1, 2, 3, 4. The real reason for the
proposed change was the belief that the word "love" in tennis
made the uninitiated consider the game effeminate and repelled
possible supporters. The loyal adherents of the old customs of
the game proved too strong, and defeated the proposed change in
scoring by an overwhelming majority.
Personally, I think there is some slight claim to consideration
for the removal of the word "love." It can do no good, and there
are many substitutes for it. It can easily be eliminated without
revolutionizing the whole scoring system. It is far easier to
substitute the words "zero," "nothing," for "love" than cause
such an upheaval as was proposed. In my opinion the best way to
obviate the matter is to use the player's name in conjunction
with the points won by him, when his opponent has none. If the
first point is won by Williams, call the score "15, Williams"
and, with his opponent scoring the next, the call would become
"15-all."
If tennis loses one adherent, it could otherwise gain, simply by
its retaining the word "love" in the score, I heartily advocate
removing it. This removal was successfully accomplished in
Chicago in 1919, with no confusion to players, umpires, or
public.
However, returning from my little digression on the relative
value of "love" and "nothing," let me continue my short history
of the game. The playing of tennis sprang into public favour so
quickly that in a comparatively short space of time it was
universally played in England and France. The game was brought to
America in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Its growth
there in the past twenty-five years has been phenomenal. During
the last half century tennis gained a firm foothold in all the
colonies of the British Empire, and even found favour in the
Orient, as is explained in another portion of this book.
Tennis fills many needs of mankind. It provides an outlet for
physical energy, relaxation, mental stimulus, and healthful
exercise. The moral tone is aided by tennis because the first law
of tennis is that every player must be a good sportsman and
inherently a gentleman.
Tennis was recognized by the Allied Governments as one of the
most beneficial sports during the World War. Not only were the
men in service encouraged to play whenever possible, but the
Allied Governments lent official aid to the various service
tournaments held in France following the signing of the
Armistice. The importance of tennis in the eyes of the American
Government may be gleaned from the fact that great numbers of
hard courts were erected at the various big cantonments, and
organized play offered to the soldiers.
Many of the leading players who were in training in America at
the time of the National Championship, which was played solely to
raise money for the Red Cross, were granted leave from their
various stations to take part in the competition. Among the most
notable were Wallace F. Johnson, Conrad B. Doyle, Harold
Throckmorton, S. Howard Voshell, and myself, all of whom were
granted leave of two weeks or a month. Captain R. N. Williams and
Ensigns William M. Johnston and Maurice E. M'Loughlin, and many
other stars, were overseas. Official recognition at such a time
puts a stamp of approval on the game which goes far to justify
its world-wide popularity.
The tennis world lost many of its best in that titanic struggle.
The passing of so many from its ranks left gaps that will be hard
to fill.
The gallant death of Anthony F. Wilding in Flanders cost the game
one of its greatest players, and finest men. I had not the
pleasure of knowing Wilding personally yet I, like all the tennis
world, felt a sense of keen personal loss at his heroic passing.
Wilding was a man whose sterling qualities gave even more to the
game than his play, and tennis is better for his all too brief
career.
America lost some of its finest manhood in the War, and tennis
paid its toll. No player was a more likeable personality nor
popular figure among the rising stars than John Plaffman, the
young Harvard man who gave his life in Flanders fields. I cannot
touch on the many heroes who made everlasting fame in a bigger
game than that which they loved so well. Time is too short. It is
sufficient to know that the tennis players of the world dropped
their sport at the call of War, and played as well with death as
ever they did on the tennis court.
The War is over, please God never to return, and the men are back
from their marvellous task. The game of War is done, the games of
Peace are again being played. Tennis suffered the world over from
war's blight, but everywhere the game sprang up in renewed life
at the close of hostilities. The season of 1919 was one of
reconstruction after the devastation. New figures were standing
in prominence where old stars were accustomed to be seen. The
question on the lips of all the tennis players was whether the
stars of pre-War days would return to their former greatness.
The Championship of the World for 1919 at Wimbledon was anxiously
awaited. Who would stand forth as the shining light of that
meeting? Gerald Patterson, the "Australian Hurricane," as the
press called him, came through a notable field and successfully
challenged Norman Brookes for the title. Gobert and Kingscote
fell before him, and the press hailed him as a player of
transcendent powers.
The Australian team of Brookes, Patterson, R. V. Thomas, and
Randolph Lycett journeyed home to the Antipodes by way of America
to compete in the American Championship. Meanwhile R. N.
Williams, W. M. Johnston, and Maurice E. M'Loughlin were
demobilized, and were again on the courts. The American
Championships assumed an importance equal to that of the
Wimbledon event.
The Australian team of Brookes and Patterson successfully
challenged the American title-holders in doubles, Vincent
Richards and myself, after defeating the best teams in America,
including W. M. Johnston and C. J. Griffin, the former champions.
Speculation was rife as to Patterson's ability to triumph in the
Singles Championship, and public interest ran high.
The Singles Championship proved a notable triumph for W. M.
Johnston, who won a decisive, clear-cut, and deserved victory
from a field never equalled in the history of tennis. Johnston
defeated Patterson in a marvellous 5-set struggle, while Brookes
lost to me in four sets. M'Loughlin went down to Williams in a
match that showed the famous Comet but a faint shadow of his
former self. Williams was defeated in sequence sets by me. The
final round found Johnston in miraculous form and complete master
of the match from start to finish, and he defeated me in three
sequence sets.
Immediately following the championship, the Australian-American
team match took place. In this Brookes went down to defeat before
Johnston in four close sets, while I succeeded in scoring another
point by nosing out Patterson by the same score. Thus 1919 gave
Johnston a clear claim to the title of the World's Premier Tennis
Player. The whole season saw marked increase in tennis interest
throughout the entire world.
I have gone into more detail concerning the season of 1919 than I
otherwise would, to attempt to show the revival of the tennis
game in the public interest, and why it is so.
The evolution of the tennis game is a natural logical one. There
is a definite cycle of events that can be traced. The picture is
clearest in America as the steps of advancements are more
definitely defined. It is from America that I am going to analyse
the growth of modern tennis.
The old saying, "Three generations from shirt sleeves to shirt
sleeves," may well be parodied to "Three decades from ground
strokes to ground strokes." The game of tennis is one great
circle that never quite closes. Progress will not allow a
complete return to the old style. Yet the style, without the
method of thirty years ago, is coming back in vogue. It is a
polished, decorated version of the old type game. It is expanded
and developed. History tells us that the civilization of the old
Greeks and Romans held many so-called modern luxuries, but not
the methods of acquiring them we have to-day. Just so with
tennis; for the ground. stroke game was the style of the past,
just as it will be the style of the future; but the modern method
of making ground strokes is a very different thing from the one
used by the old-time stars.
We are on the brink of the upheaval. The next few years will show
results in the tennis game that were not thought of before the
War. Tennis is becoming an organized sport, with skilled
management. Modern methods, where efficiency is the watchword, is
the new idea in tennis development.
Tennis is on the verge of the greatest increase in its history.
Never before has tennis of all types been so universally played,
nor by such great multitudes. Its drawing power is phenomenal,
hundreds of thousands of people witnessing matches the world
over, and played during the season of 1920.
There are more players of fame now before the public than at any
previous time since tennis became established. The standard of
play of the masses and quality of game of the stars have risen
tremendously in the last decade. No less an authority than Norman
E. Brookes, whose active playing days cover a period of twenty
years, told me during the American Championships, last year at
Forest Hills, that in his opinion the game in America had
advanced fully "15" in ten years. He stated that he believed the
leading players of to-day were the superior of the Larneds,
Dohertys, and Pims of the past.
The most remarkable advance has been along the lines of junior
play: the development of a large group of boys ranging in age
from thirteen to eighteen, who will in time replace the
Johnstons, Williams, and M'Loughlins of to-day.
American tennis has passed through a series, of revolutionary
stages that have changed the complex of the game. English tennis
has merely followed its natural development, unaffected by
external influences or internal upheaval, so that the game today
is a refined product of the game of twenty years ago. Refined but
not vitalized. The World War alone placed its blight on the
English game, and changed the even tenor of its way. Naturally
the War had only a devastating effect. No good sprang from it. It
is to the everlasting credit of the French and English that
during those horrible four years of privation, suffering, and
death the sports of the nations lived.
The true type of English tennis, from which American tennis has
sprung, was the baseline driving game. It is still the same.
Well-executed drives, hit leisurely and gracefully from the base-
line, appealed to the temperament of the English people. They
developed this style to a perfection well-nigh invincible to cope
with from the same position. The English gave the tennis world
its traditions, its Dohertys, and its Smiths.
Tennis development, just as tennis psychology, is largely a
matter of geographical distribution. This is so well recognized
now in America that the country is divided in various geographic
districts by the national association, and sectional associations
carry on the development of their locality under the supervision
of the national body.
Naturally new countries, with different customs, would not
develop along the same lines as England. America, Australia, and
South Africa took the English style, and began their tennis
career on the baseline game. Each of these has since had a
distinct yet similar growth--a variance to the original style.
American tennis followed the English baseline style through a
period that developed Dr. Dwight, R. D. Sears, Henry Slocum, and
other stars. Tennis, during this time, was gaining a firm hold
among the boys and young men who found the deep-driving game
devoid of the excitement they desired. Americans always enjoy
experiments, so the rising players tried coming to the net at any
reasonable opening. Gradually this plan became popular, until
Dwight Davis and Holcombe Ward surprised the tennis world with
their new service, now the American twist, and used it as an
opening gun in a net attack.
This new system gave us besides Davis and Ward, the Wrenn
brothers, George and Robert, Malcolm Whitman, M. G. Chace, and
finally Beals C. Wright. The baseline game had its firm adherents
who followed it loyally, and it reached its crest in the person
of William A. Larned. Previous to this time, speed, cyclonic
hitting and furious smashing were unknown, although rumours of
some player named M'Loughlin combining these qualities were
floating East from the Pacific Coast. Not much stock was taken in
this phenomenon until 1908, when Maurice Evans M'Loughlin burst
upon the tennis world with a flash of brilliancy that earned him
his popular nickname, "The California Comet."
M'Loughlin was the turning-point in American tennis. He made a
lasting impression on the game that can never be erased. His
personality gained him a following and fame, both in America and
England, that have seldom been equalled in the sporting world.
M'Loughlin was the disciple of speed. Cyclonic, dynamic energy,
embodied in a fiery-headed boy, transformed tennis to a game of
brawn as well as brains. America went crazy over "Red Mac," and
all the rising young players sought to emulate his game. No man
has brought a more striking personality, or more generous
sportsmanship, into tennis than M'Loughlin. The game owes him a
great personal debt; but this very personal charm that was his
made many players strive to copy his style and methods, which
unfortunately were not fundamentally of the best. M'Loughlin was
a unique tennis player. His whole game was built up on service
and overhead. His ground strokes were very faulty. By his
personal popularity M'Loughlin dwarfed the importance of ground
strokes, and unduly emphasized the importance of service.
M'Loughlin gave us speed, dash, and verve in our tennis. It
remained for R. N. Williams and W. M. Johnston to restore the
balance of the modern game by solving the riddle of the
Californian's service. Brookes and Wilding led the way by first
meeting the ball as it came off the ground. Yet neither of these
two wizards of the court successfully handled M'Loughlin's
service as did Williams and Johnston.
M'Loughlin swept Brookes and Wilding into the discard on those
memorable days in 1914, when the dynamic game of the fiery-headed
Californian rose to heights it had never attained previously, and
he defeated both men in the Davis Cup. Less than one month later
Williams, playing as only Williams can, annihilated that mighty
delivery and crushed M'Loughlin in the final of the National
Championship. It was the beginning of the end for M'Loughlin, for
once his attack was repulsed he had no sound defence to fall back
on.
Williams and then Johnston triumphed by the wonderful ground
strokes that held back M'Loughlin's attack.
To-day we are still in the period of service and net attack, with
the cycle closing toward the ground- stroke game. Yet the circle
will never close, for the net game is the final word in attack,
and only attack will succeed. The evolution means that the ground
stroke is again established as the only modern defence against
the net player.
Modern tennis should be an attacking service, not necessarily
epoch-making, as was M'Loughlin's, but powerfully offensive, with
the main portion of the play from the baseline in sparring for
openings to advance to the net. Once the opening is made the
advance should follow quickly, and the point ended by a decisive
kill. That is the modern American game. It is the game of
Australia as typified by Patterson schooled under the Brookes
tutelage. It is the game of France, played by Gobert, Laurentz,
and Brugnon. It has spread to South Africa, and is used by
Winslow, Norton, and Raymond. Japan sees its possibilities, and
Kumagae and Shimidzu are even now learning the net attack to
combine with the baseline game. England alone remains obstinate
in her loyalty to her old standby, and even there signs of the
joint attack are found in the game of Kingscote.
Tennis has spread so rapidly that the old idea of class and class
game has passed away with so many other ancient, yet snobbish,
traditions. Tennis is universally played. The need of proper
development of the game became so great in America that the
American Lawn Tennis Association organized, in 1917, a system of
developing the boys under eighteen years of age all over the
United States.
The fundamental idea in the system, which had its origin in the
able brain of Julian S. Myrick, President of the United States
Lawn Tennis Association, was to arouse and sustain interest in
the various sections by dealing with local conditions. This was
successfully done through a system of local open tournaments,
that qualified boys to a sectional championship. These sectional
championships in turn qualified the winners for the National
junior Championship, which is held annually in conjunction with
the men's event at Forest Hills.
The success of the system has been stupendous. The growth of
tennis in certain localities has been phenomenal. In Philadelphia
alone over 500 boys compete in sanctioned play annually, while
the city ranking for 1919 contained the names of 88 boys under
eighteen, and 30 under fifteen, all of whom had competed in at
least three sanctioned events. The school leagues of the city
hold a schedule of 726 individual matches a year. The success of
the Philadelphia junior system is due to the many large clubs who
give the use of their courts and the balls for an open
tournament. Among these clubs are Germantown Cricket Club, Cynwyd
Club, Philadelphia Cricket, Overbrook Golf Club, Belfield Country
Club, Stenton A. C., Green Point Tennis Clubs and at times Merion
Cricket Club. The movement has been fostered and built up by the
efforts of a small group of men, the most important of whom is
Paul W. Gibbons, President of the Philadelphia Tennis
Association, together with Wm. H. Connell of Germantown, the late
Hosmer W. Hanna of Stenton, whose untiring efforts aided greatly
in obtaining a real start, Dr. Chuton A. Strong, President of the
Interscholastic League, Albert L. Hoskins, for years
Vice-President of the U.S.L.T.A., and others. This plan brought
great results. It developed such players as Rodney M. Beck, H. F.
Domkin, G. B. Pfingst, Carl Fischer, the most promising boy in
the city, who has graduated from the junior age limit, and
Charles Watson (third), who, in 1920, is the Philadelphia junior
Champion, and one of the most remarkable players for a boy of
sixteen I have ever seen.
New York City was fortunate in having F. B. Alexander, the famous
Internationalist, to handle the junior tennis there. He, together
with Julian S. Myrick, and several other men, built up a series
of tournaments around New York that produced some remarkable
young players. It is largely due to the junior system that
Vincent Richards has become the marvellous player that he is, at
such an early age. Second only to Richards, and but a shade
behind, are Harold Taylor and Cecil Donaldson, who have just
passed out of the junior age limit. Charles Wood, the Indoor Boys
Champion, is a remarkable youngster.
In New England, particularly in Providence, through the efforts
of J. D. E. Jones, junior tennis is rapidly assuming an important
place, and many young stars who will be heard of in the future
are coming to the fore. By a strange coincidence the list is
headed by the two sons of Jones. They seem to have inherited
their father's ability. Arnold W. Jones, the National Boy
Champion, is a player of marked ability, with a fine all-around
game. Following closely on his heels come J. D. E. Jones, Jr.,
and Wm. W. Ingraham. From the South one finds John E. Howard.
Around Chicago a group of men, led by Samuel Hardy, captain of
the 1920 Davis Cup team, and assisted by R. T. Van Arsdale, built
up a magnificent system of tournaments and coaching. Hardy left
Chicago and came to New York in 1919; but the work which he so
ably organized will continue under the supervision of the Western
Association. The leading juniors developed in Chicago were Lucian
Williams and the Weber brothers, James and Jerry.
From the Pacific Coast, the pioneer in junior development,
wonderful boys are continually coming East. A boy's tennis game
matures early in California. M'Loughlin was about eighteen when
he first came East; Johnston less than twenty-one when he won the
national title the first time; Marvin Griffin and Morgan Fottrell
are in 1920 the leading youngsters in California.
The success of the Californians is due largely to the efforts of
Dr. Sumner Hardy, brother of Samuel Hardy, and one of the most
remarkable figures in the tennis world. Dr. Hardy practically
carries the California Association single handed. He is a big
factor in American tennis success.
From up in Washington State, a fine young player, Marshall Allen,
has come to the fore.
Charles S. Garland, the Davis Cup star, is a former junior
Champion of America, and a product of the junior system in
Pittsburg, which is so ably handled by his father, Charles
Garland. Other young stars developing include George Moreland and
Leonard Reed.
Most of the foregoing is irrelevant, I suppose, but I have gone
into detail because I want to prove that America has gone into
the matter of junior developments, carefully, systematically, and
has produced results.
It has been proved conclusively that it is in the schools that
the most favourable progress could be made. Once tennis is placed
on the basis of importance it deserves, the boys will take it up.
At present there is a tendency to discount tennis and golf in
school. This is a big mistake, as these two games are the only
ones that a man can play regularly after he leaves college and
enters, into business. The school can keep a sport alive. It is
schools that kept cricket alive in England, and lack of
scholastic support that killed it in America. The future of
tennis in England, France, Australia, Japan, etc., rests in the
hands of the boys. If the game is to grow, tennis must be
encouraged among the youngsters and played in the schools.
England is faced with a serious problem. Eton and Harrow, the two
big schools, are firm set against tennis. The other institutions
naturally follow in the lead of these famous schools. The younger
generation is growing up with little or no knowledge of tennis.
One thing that forcibly bore in on my mind, during my trip in
1920, was the complete absence of boys of all ages at the various
tournaments. In America youngsters from ten years of age up swarm
all over the grounds at big tennis events. I saw very few of
either at Queen's Club, Wimbledon, Eastbourne, or Edgbaston where
I played. The boys do not understand tennis in England, and
naturally do not care to play it.
The English Lawn Tennis Association is very desirous of building
up tennis in the schools; but so far has not yet succeeded in
breaking down the old prejudice. It is really a question of life
or death with English tennis at this time. Major A. R. F.
Kingscote, the youngest of the leading players in England, is
older than any man in the American First ten, with the single
exception of Walter T. Hayes. J. C. Parke has stated definitely
that 1920 marked his retirement from the game. He is just under
forty. Young players must be found to replace the waning stars.
The danger is not immediate, for all the players who proved so
good in 1920 seemed certain of several more years of first- class
play; but what of the next ten years?
The future development of tennis is dependent largely upon the
type of court that will become the standard. All big fixtures
to-day are played on grass wherever possible. There is little
question but that the grass game is the best. In the first place,
it is the old-established custom, and should be maintained if
possible. Secondly, the game is more skilful and more interesting
on turf. Thirdly, grass is far easier on the eyes and feet of the
players than any other surface.
There are drawbacks to grass courts. Grass cannot grow in all
climates. The grass season opens late and closes early. The
expense of upkeep is very great, and skilled groundsmen are
required at all clubs that have grass courts.
The hard court of clay or dirt, cinder, en-tout-cas, or asphalt
allows more continuous play and uniform conditions in more kinds
of weather. The bound is truer and higher, but the light and
surface are harder on the player. The balls wear light very
rapidly, while racquets wear through quite soon.
The advantages are a much longer season on hard courts, with less
chance of weather interrupting important meetings. The courts
require far less care in upkeep than grass.
What has been the actual tendency in the last decade? In America
the hard courts erected have been approximately nine to one
grass. America is rapidly become a hard-court country. France is
entirely on a hard-court basis; there are no grass courts at all.
Play in South Africa is entirely on hard courts. Australia and
the British Isles have successfully repelled the hard-court
invasion thus far, although during the past two years the number
of hard courts put up in England has exceeded grass.
The en-tout-cas court of peculiar red surface is the most popular
composition in England and the Continent.
There seems little doubt but that the hard court is the coming
surface in the next decade. Grass will continue to be used for
the most important events, but the great majority of the tennis
played, exclusive of the championships, will be on hard courts.
The result on the game will be one of increasing the value of the
ground stroke and partially cutting down the net attack, since
the surface of a hard court is slippery and tends to make it hard
to reach the net to volley. Thus the natural attack will become a
drive and not a volley. Hard-court play speeds up the ground
strokes, and makes the game more orthodox.
The installation of hard courts universally should spread tennis
rapidly, since it will afford more chance to play over a longer
period. The growth of public courts in the parks and the
municipal play grounds in America has been a big factor in the
spread of the game's popularity. Formerly a man or boy had to
belong to a club in order to have an opportunity to play tennis.
Now all he needs is a racquet and balls, and he may play on a
public court in his own city. This movement will spread, not only
in America but throughout the world. England and France have some
public courts; but their systems are not quite as well organized
as the American.
The branch of tennis which England and France foster, and in
which America is woefully lax, is the indoor game. Unfortunately
the majority of the courts abroad have wood surfaces, true but
lightning fast. The perfect indoor court should retain its true
bound, but slow up the skid of the ball. The most successful
surface I have ever played upon is battleship linoleum--the heavy
covering used on men-of-war. This gives a true, slightly retarded
bound, not unlike a very fast grass court.
Indoor play in America is sadly crippled by reason of no adequate
facilities for play. The so-called National Indoor Championship
is held at the Seventh Regiment Armoury in New York City on a
wood floor, with such frightful lighting that it is impossible to
play real tennis. The two covered courts at Longwood Club,
Boston, are very fine, well lighted, with plenty of space. There
is a magnificent court at Providence, and another at Buffalo.
Utica boasts of another, while there are several fine courts,
privately owned, on Long Island. New York City uses the big
armouries for indoor play; but the surface and light in these are
not fit for real tennis. The Brooklyn Heights Casino has the only
adequate court in the Metropolitan district.
Philadelphia and Chicago, cities of enormous populations and
great tennis interest, have no courts or facilities for indoor
play. This condition must be rectified in America if we wish to
keep our supremacy in the tennis world. The French players are
remarkable on wood. Gobert is said to be the superior of any
player in the world, when playing under good conditions indoors.
The game of tennis is worthy of having all types of play within
reach of its devotees. Why should a player drop his sport in
October because the weather is cold? Indoor play during the
winter means an improvement from season to season. Lack of it is
practically stagnation or retrogression.
The future will see a growth of hard-court play the world over.
Grass must fight to hold its position. Indoor play will come more
and more into vogue.
CHAPTER XI. THE PROBABLE FUTURE OF THE GAME
What will be the outcome of the world-wide boom in tennis? Will
the game change materially in the coming years? Time, alone, can
answer; but with that rashness that seizes one when the
opportunity to prophesy arrives and no one is at hand to cry
"Hold, hold," I dare to submit my views on the coming years in
international tennis.
I do not look to see a material change in the playing rules. A
revival of the footfault fiend, who desires to handicap the
server, is international in character and, like the poor, "always
with us." The International Federation has practically adopted a
footfault rule for 1921 that prohibits the server lifting one
foot unless replaced behind the baseline. It is believed this
will do away with the terrific services. The only effect I can
see from it is to move the server back a few inches, or possibly
a foot, while he delivers the same service and follows in with a
little more speed of foot. It will not change the game at all.
Sir Oliver Lodge, the eminent scientist, has joined the advocates
of but one service per point. This seems so radical and in all so
useless, since it entirely kills service as other than a mere
formality, and puts it back where it was twenty-five years ago,
that I doubt if even the weight of Sir Oliver Lodge's eminent
opinion can put it over. To allow one service is to hand the game
more fully into the receiver's hands than it now rests in the
server's.
The playing rules are adequate in every way, and the perfect
accord with which representatives of the various countries meet
and play, happily, successfully, and what is more important,
annually, is sufficient endorsement of the fundamental
principles. The few slight variations of the different countries
are easily learned and work no hardships on visiting players. Why
change a known successful quantity for an unknown? It seldom
pays.
The style of play is now approaching a type which I believe will
prove to have a long life. To-day we are beginning to combine the
various styles in one man. The champion of the future will
necessarily need more equipment than the champion of to-day. The
present shows us the forehand driving of Johnston, the service of
Murray, the volleying of Richards, the chop of Wallace F.
Johnson, the smash of Patterson, the half volley of Williams, and
the back hand of Pell. The future will find the greatest players
combining much of these games. It can be done if the player will
study. I believe that every leading player in the world in 1950
will have a drive and a chop, fore- and backhand from the
baseline. He will use at least two styles of service, since one
will not suffice against the stroke of that period. He will be a
volleyer who can safely advance to the net, yet his attack will
be based on a ground game. He must smash well. In short, I
believe that the key to future tennis success lies in variety of
stroke. The day of the one-stroke player is passing. Each year
sees the versatile game striding forward by leaps and bounds.
The future champion of the world must be a man of keen intellect,
since psychology is assuming the importance that is its due. He
must train earnestly, carefully, and consistently. The day of
playing successful tennis and staying up till daybreak is over.
The game is too fast and too severe for that. As competition
increases the price of success goes up; but its worth increases
in a greater ratio, for the man who triumphs in the World's
Championship in 1950 will survive a field of stars beyond our
wildest dreams in 1920.
What of the various countries? America should retain her place at
or near the top, for the boys we are now developing should not
only make great players themselves, but should carry on the work
of training the coming generations.
England has but to interest her youth in the game to hold her
place with the leaders. I believe it will be done. I look to see
great advances made in tennis among the boys in England in the
next few years. I believe the game will change to conform more to
the modern net attack. England will never be the advanced
tennis-playing country that her colonies are, for her whole
atmosphere is one of conservatism in sport. Still her game will
change. Already a slight modification is at work. The next decade
will see a big change coming over the style of English tennis.
The wonderful sporting abilities of the Englishman, his ability
to produce his best when seemingly down and out mean that, no
matter how low the ebb to which tennis might fall, the inherent
abilities of the English athlete would always bring it up. I
sound pessimistic about the immediate future. I am not, provided
English boyhood is interested in the game.
Japan is the country of the future. There is no more remarkable
race of students on the globe than the Japanese. They like
tennis, and are coming with increasing numbers to our
tournaments. They prove themselves sterling sportsmen and
remarkable players. I look to see Japan a power in tennis in the
next twenty-five years.
France, with her brilliant temperamental unstable people, will
always provide interesting players and charming opponents. I do
not look to see France materially change her present
position--which is one of extreme honour, of great friendliness,
and keen competition. Her game will not greatly rise, nor will
she lose in any way the prestige that is hers.
It will be many long years before the players of those enemy
countries, who plunged the world into the horrible baptism of
blood from which we have only just emerged, will ever be met by
the players of the Allies. Personally, I trust I may not see
their re-entry into the game. Not from the question of the
individuals, but from the feeling which will not down. There is
no need to deal at this time with the future of Germany and
Austria.
Australasia and South Africa, the great colonies of the British
Empire, should be on the edge of a great tennis wave. I look to
see great players rise in Australasia to refill the gaps left by
the passing of Wilding and the retirement of Brookes. It takes
great players to fill such gaps; but great players are bred from
the traditions of the former masters.
The early season of 1921 saw a significant and to my way of
looking at it, wise move on the part of New Zealand when the New
Zealand tennis association withdrew from the Australasian tennis
association and decided to compete for the Davis Cup in future
years as a separate nation.
No one can deny the great help Australia has been to New Zealand
in tennis development, but the time has come now for New Zealand
to stand on her own. Since the regrettable death of Anthony F.
Wilding, in whose memory New Zealand has a tennis asset and
standard that will always hold a place in world sport, the New
Zealand tennis players have been unable to produce a player of
skill enough to make the Davis Cup team of Australasia. It has
fallen to Australia with Norman E. Brookes, to whose unfailing
support and interest Australasian tennis owes its progress since
the war, G. L. Patterson, W. H. Anderson, R. L. Heath, and Pat
O'Hara Wood to uphold the traditions of the game.
The Davis Cup challenge round of 1921 was staged in New Zealand
in accord with the agreement between Australia and New Zealand
and also in memory of A. F. Wilding. The tremendous interest in
the play throughout the entire country showed the time was ripe
for a drastic step forward if the step was ever to be taken. So
after careful consideration the split of Australia and New
Zealand has taken place. What will this mean to New Zealand?
First it means that it will be years before another Davis Cup
match will be staged on her shores, for it takes time and plenty
of it to produce a winning team, but at the time, the fact is
borne in on the tennis playing faction in New Zealand that as
soon as they desire to challenge, their players will gain the
opportunity of International competition.
Experience matures players faster than anything else and I am
sure that the move that will place a team of New Zealand players
in the field in the Davis Cup will be the first and biggest step
forward to real world power in tennis. New Zealand produced one
Wilding, why should not another appear?
I was tremendously impressed by the interest existing among the
New Zealand boys in tennis. I met a great number during my few
weeks in Auckland and seldom have seen such a magnificent
physical type coupled with mental keenness. These boys, given the
opportunity to play under adequate supervision and coaching,
should produce tennis players of the highest class.
The New Zealand association has made a drastic move. I hope they
have the wisdom to see far enough ahead to provide plenty of play
for their young players and if possible to obtain adequate
coaches in the clubs and schools.
Frankly I see no players of Davis Cup calibre now in New Zealand.
I did see many boys whom I felt if given the chance would become
Davis Cup material.
The break with New Zealand will have no effect on Australia,
except to relieve a slight friction that has existed. Australia
has plenty of material coming to insure a succession of fine
teams for the Davis Cup in the future.
Both Australia and New Zealand handle their tennis in the country
in a most efficient manner and the game seems to me to be
progressing in a natural and healthy manner. The next ten years
will decide the fate of New Zealand tennis. If they organise a
systematic development of their boys I feel convinced they will
gain a place of equality with Australia. If they do not seize
their opening now, tennis will not revive until some genius of
the game such as Norman E. Brookes arises in their midst from
only the Lord knows where.
The future should see America and Australia fighting for
supremacy in the tennis world, with England and France close on
their heels, to jump in the lead at the first faltering.
It is only a matter of time before the last differences between
the International Federation and the America Association are
patched up. The fundamental desires of each, to spread the growth
of tennis, are the same. Sooner or later the bar will fall, and a
truly International Federation, worldwide in scope, will follow.
I look to see the Davis Cup matches gain in importance and public
interest as each year goes by. The growth of the public interest
in the game is seen at every hand. Wimbledon must seek new
quarters. The new grounds of the All England Club will provide
accommodation for 20,000 to witness the championships. This
enormous stadium is the result of public pressure, owing to the
crowds that could not be accommodated at the old grounds.
Westside Club, Forest Hills, where the American Championship was
held, is planning accommodation for 25,000, provided that they
are awarded the championship for a long term of years. Davis Cup
matches are now drawing from 10,000 to 15,000 where the
accommodation is available. What will the future hold?
I believe that 1950 will find the game of tennis on a plane
undreamed of to-day. Tennis is still in its infancy. May I have
the pleasure to help in rocking the cradle.
My task is completed. I have delved into the past, analysed the
present, and prophesied the future, with a complete disregard of
conventions and traditions.
The old order changeth, and I trust that my book may aid slightly
in turning the tennis thought in the direction of organized
developments. The day of self is past. The day of co-operation is
dawning. It is seen in the junior tennis, the municipal tennis,
and the spirit of international brotherhood in the game.
Assistance is necessary to success in any venture. My book has
been made possible only by the aid afforded me by several of my
companions on the Davis Cup team trip. The task of arranging the
material in coherent order and proper style is one of the most
important points. I owe a debt of gratitude to Mrs. Samuel Hardy,
wife of our captain, for her never-failing interest and keen
judgment in the matter of style.
Mr. Hardy, with his great knowledge of the game of tennis, as
player, official, and organizer, freely gave of his store of
experience, and to him I owe much that is interesting in the
tactics of the game.
R. N. Williams, my team-mate, was always a willing critic and
generous listener, and his playing abilities and decided ideas on
the game gave much material that found its way into these pages.
I wish to express my gratitude for his able assistance.
Charles S. Garland, my doubles partner and close friend, gave
never-wavering faith and a willing ear to my ravings over
strokes, tactics, and theories, while his orthodox views on
tennis acted as a stop on my rather Bolshevik ideas.
To all these people I express my thanks for their part in any
success I may attain with this book. I have a firm belief in the
future of tennis. I recommend it to all. It gives firm friends, a
healthy body, a keen mind, and a clean sport. It calls forth the
best that is in you, and repays you in its own coin.
THE 1921 SEASON
The season of 1921 was the most remarkable year in tennis history
throughout the whole world. More tennis was played and more
people viewed it than ever before.
The climax of famous Davis Cup competition was reached when
England, France, Japan, Australia, the Philippines, Denmark,
Belgium, Argentine, Spain, India, Canada and Czecho-Slovakia
challenged for the right to play America, the holding nation.
This wonderful representation naturally produced not only many
new stars, but also thousands of new enthusiasts in the various
countries where the matches were played.
The early rounds saw several brilliant matches and naturally some
defaults. Argentine and the Philippines could not put a team in
the field at the last moment. Belgium, after defeating
Czecho-Slovakia, was unable to finance her team to America to
meet the winner of England and Australasia.
England scored a fine victory over Spain when Randolph Lycett, F.
Gordon Lowe and Max E. Woosnam defeated Manuel Alonzo and Count
de Gomar in a close meeting. Notwithstanding his defeat by
Lycett, Manuel Alonzo proved himself one of the great players of
the world and one of the most attractive personalities in tennis.
India sprang a sensation by defeating France in their match in
Paris. Sleen, Jacob and Deane showed great promise for the
future. France was crippled owing to the loss of A. H. Gobert and
William Laurentz, the former through a seriously sprained ankle
sustained in the World's Championship at Wimbledon, and the
latter through illness. Samazieuhl, the new French champion, and
Brugnon could not cope with the steadiness of the Indian stars
and the team from the Orient won 3 matches to 2. Meanwhile the
Australian team of J. O. Anderson, J. B. Hawkes, C. V. Todd and
Norman Peach had arrived in America and journeyed to Canada,
where they swamped their Colonial cousins easily. Norman E.
Brookes, Gerald L. Patterson and Pat O'Hara Wood were unable to
accompany the team, so the greatest contender for the title was
weakened appreciably.
The Australians decisively defeated the Danish team of Tegner and
Van Ingersley at Cleveland, winning with ease. They proceeded to
Pittsburgh to await the arrival of the English players.
England sent her invading team, unfortunately without the
services of Col. A. R. F. Kingscote and Randolph Lycett, who were
unable to go owing to business affairs. J. C. Parke, her famous
international star, was also out of the game, having retired from
active competition last year. The English team was made up of
Gordon Lowe, Max Woosnam, J. C. Gilbert and O. E. H. Turnbull.
They were accompanied by that delightful author and critic A.
Wallis Meyers.
The English met the Australians at Pittsburgh in July. The latter
won three matches to two with J. O. Anderson, the outstanding
figure of a well played meeting. The tall Australian defeated
both Lowe and Woosnam in the singles and aided in the doubles
victory, thus scoring all the points for his team.
Meanwhile the Indian team had arrived in America and proceeded to
Chicago, where they met the Japanese team of Kumagae and
Shimidzu. The battle of the Orient resulted in a victory for the
Nipponese.
The final round found Australia playing Japan in the famous old
tennis center of Newport, R. I., where the National Singles so
long held sway. It was a bitter struggle, with the Australians
within two little points of victory in two matches they
afterwards lost. Shimidzu and Kumagae took all the singles, but
Kumagae was two sets down to Hawkes and one to two down to
Anderson. Thus Japan in its first year in Davis Cup competition
earned the right to challenge America for the treasured trophy.
It was a marvellous meeting of these two teams. Over 40,000
people watched the players in three days. Although America won
all five matches, Shimidzu came within two points of defeating me
in straight sets and carried Johnston to a bitter four set
struggle.
The Cup is safe for another year but the new blood infused into
the competition by such men as Shimidzu, Alonzo, Woosnam,
Anderson and Hawkes shows clearly that America must keep working
or we will fall from our present position. It is a healthy thing
for the game that this is so. I hope we will see many more new
players of equal promise next year.
The United States Lawn Tennis Association, following its policy
of co-operation with the Internation Federation, decided to send
a team to France and England for the championships. The personnel
of the team was Mrs. Franklin 1. Mallory, Miss Edith Sigourney,
Arnold W. Jones (boy champion of America, 1919), and myself. J.
D. E. Jones, father of Arnold, himself a tennis player of renown,
accompanied the team, as did Mr. Mallory.
The invading tennis players sailed May 12th on the Mauretania to
Cherbourg and from there journeyed to Paris, where they engaged
in the Hard Court Championship of the world.
The first week of the stay was devoted to practice on the courts
at the Stad Francais, St. Cloud, where the championship was held.
The team were the guests of the Racing Club at a most delightful
luncheon and shortly afterward dined as the guests of the Tennis
Club of Paris.
The finals of the championship of France were held during our
stay and, greatly to our surprise, A. H. Gobert, the defending
title holder, fell a victim to his old enemy, heat, and went down
to defeat before Samazieuhl. The Hard Court championships of the
world produced a series of the most sensational upsets in the
history of the game, a series, I might add, that did much to
allow me to win the event. Gobert lost to Nicholas Mishu in the
first round. Alonzo, after defeating Samazieuhl, went down to
defeat at hands of Laurentz, who in turn collapsed to Tegner.
Fate pursued the winners, for Tegner was eliminated by Washer,
who came through to the final against me. Either Alonzo or
Laurentz should have been finalists if the unexpected had not
occurred, and either would have been a hard proposition for me
particularly in my condition. I had been taken ill on my arrival
in Paris and was still far from well. However, Fortune smiled on
me and I succeeded in defeating Washer 6-3, 6-3, 6-3.
Meanwhile the long awaited meeting between Mlle. Lenglen and Mrs.
Mallory was at hand. Mrs. Mallory had come through one side of
the tournament after a bitter battle with Mme. Billoutt (Mlle.
Brocadies) in the semi final.
Mlle. Lenglen had proceeded in her usual leisurely fashion to the
finals with the loss of but two games.
What a meeting these two great players, Mrs. Mallory and Mlle.
Lenglen, had! Every seat in the stands sold and every inch of
standing room crowded! It was a marvellous match, both women
playing great tennis. Mlle. Lenglen had consistently better depth
and more patience. She out- manoeuvred the American champion and
won 6-2, 6-3. The match was far closer than this one-sided score
sounds. Every rally was long drawn out and bitterly contested,
but the French girl had a slight superiority that brought her a
well deserved victory.
A. H. Gobert and W. Laurentz retained their doubles title after
one of the most terrific struggles of their careers in the
semi-final round against Arnold Jones and me. The boy and I had
previously put out Samazieuhl and his partner in three sets and
just nosed out the Spanish Davis Cup team, Manuel Alonzo and
Count de Gomar.
The semi final between Gobert and Laurentz and the Americans
brought out a capacity audience that literally jumped to its feet
and cheered during the sparkling rallies of the five bitterly
contesting sets. Just as Gobert drove his terrific service ace
past me for the match, Laurentz suddenly collapsed and fainted
dead away on the court. It was a dramatic end to a sensational
match.
The scene then shifted to England, where the American team
journeyed across the Channel to prepare for the Grass Court
championship of the world at Wimbledon. My preparation consisted
of a hasty journey to a hospital, where a minor operation put me
to bed until the day Wimbledon started.
The remainder of the team journeyed first to Beckenham and then
to Roehampton for their first grass court play of the season.
Mrs. Mallory met defeat at the hands of Mrs. Beamish at Beckenham
while the other members fell by the wayside at sundry points.
Mrs. Mallory won Roehampton, decisively defeating Miss Phillis
Howkins in the final. Francis T. Hunter, another American who
joined the team in England, although he was abroad on business,
scored a victory in the men's event at Roehampton.
The world's championship at Wimbledon was another series of
sensational matches and startling upsets. The draw as usual was
topheavy, all the strength in the upper half with Frank Hunter
and B. I. C. Norton in the lower. Every day saw its feature
matches produce the unexpected. Shimidzu and Lycett battled for
nearly four hours in a struggle that combined all the virtues and
vices of tennis and pugilism. Col. A. R. F. Kingscote, after
three sensational victories over Fisher, Dixon and Lowe,
collapsed against Alonzo and was decisively defeated. Shimidzu
looked a certain winner against Alonzo when he led at 2 sets to 1
and 4-1, but the Spaniard rose to great heights and by
sensational play pulled out the match in five sets.
Norton and Hunter, after several close calls, met in the semi
final. Norton took two sets and led 5-3 in the third only to have
Hunter follow in Alonzo's footsteps and pull out the set and win
the next. Here Norton again took command and ran out the match.
The Norton-Alonzo match in the final round was a sensational
reversal. The Spaniard seemed assured of victory when he took two
sets and led at 5-3 and 30-all, but the last-minute jinx that
pursued the tournament fell upon him, for Norton came to life
and, playing sensational tennis, pulled out the match and earned
the right to me in the challenge round.
Then the jinx arose again and this time Babe Norton was the
victim. Such a match as that challenge round produced! I went on
the court feeling far from well and very much run down. Babe was
on the crest but very nervous. He ran away with the first two
sets with great ease. The third set I improved. Babe, after
dropping three games, decided to let it go. The fourth set found
the crowd excited and rather noisy. Norton became annoyed because
he felt I was bothered, and he blew up. He simply threw away the
fourth set from sheer nerves.
The fifth set was terrible. Norton had come to earth and was
playing well while I for the first time in the match had some
control of the ball. Norton finally led at 4-5 and 30-40 on my
service, with the championship one point away.
We had a long rally. Desperately I hit down the line. I was so
certain my shot was going out I started for the net to shake
hands. The ball fell on the line and Babe in the excitement of
the moment put his return out by inches. It was a life and
fortunately for me I seized my chance and succeeded in pulling
out the match and retaining the championship. Norton deserved to
win, for nothing but luck saved me as I walked to the net,
thinking my shot was out. Norton is the youngest man to have won
the All Comers Singles. He is just 21.
The championships had two sad moments. One was the absence of J.
C. Parke, due to retirement from singles. The other was the
retirement of A. W. Gore, the famous veteran, after 30 years a
participant in the championships.
The women's events found an even more unfortunate draw than the
men. All the strength was in one eight. Miss Ryan defeated Miss
K. McKane in the first round and Mrs. Beamish her old rival in
the second. She met Mrs. Mallory in the third.
For one set Mrs. Mallory played the finest tennis of her career
to that time and in fact equal even to her play against Suzanne
Lenglen in America. She ran off six games in ten minutes. Miss
Ryan, cleverly changing her game, finally broke up the perfection
of Mrs. Mallory's stroking and just nosed her out in the next two
sets. It was a well deserved victory.
Miss Ryan easily won the tournament and challenged Mlle. Lenglen,
but her old jinx in the form of Suzanne again proved too much and
she played far below her best. The French girl easily retained
her title, winning 6-2, 6-0.
The journey of the wandering tennis troupe abroad was far from
the most important development of the year. The American season
was producing remarkable results. Every year produces its
outstanding figure and the early months of 1921 saw Vincent
Richards looming large on the tennis horizon.
The first sensation of the year was the decisive defeat inflicted
on Kumagae by young Richards at Amakassin Club, New York. This
was immediately followed by Kumagae's victory over Dick Williams,
avenging Williams' win at Palm Beach some months before. Kumagae
scored in the intercity match for the George Myers Church Trophy
played in 1921 in Philadelphia. The following day Wallace F.
Johnson defeated Kumagae in one of the most terrific battle of
the year.
Vincent Richards went through the season to the middle of July
without sustaining a defeat. He won five tournaments.
I arrived home from France and England July 12th and journeyed at
once to Providence where I took charge of the Rhode Island State
Championship at the Agawam Hunt Club. Zenzo Shimidzu had
accompanied me to America on the Olympic and made his first
tournament appearance two days after landing at Greenwich, Conn.,
before coming to Providence. He went down to unexpected defeat at
the hands of S. H. Voshell.
The Providence tournament held the greatest entry list of any
event except the National Singles itself. The singles had
Shimidzu, Williams, Richards, C. S. Garland, Watson Washburn, S.
H. Voshell, Samuel Hardy, N. W. Niles, many young Western
collegiate stars and myself. Ichiya Kumagae arrived to play
doubles with Shimidzu in preparation for the Davis Cup.
Then the fun began. Shimidzu again fell before the net attack of
Voshell, who was himself defeated by the calm quiet steadiness of
Washburn. Garland went out at my hands. Williams faced certain
defeat when Niles led him 4-0 in the final set, but in one of his
super-tennis streaks tore through to victory, only to collapse
against Vincent Richards and suffer a crushing defeat 6-2, 6-2 in
the semi-final. Meanwhile Washburn had dropped by the wayside to
me 6-2, 6-2 and young Richards and I took up our annual battle.
Youth is cruel. The world is cruel. Life is hard. I know it, for
Vinnie, with care and discretion, quietly led me along the Road
of the Has-Beens, where he deposited me to the tune of 6-1, 6-2,
1-6, 6-0.
Richards, with the scalps of Kumagae, Williams, Voshell and
myself dangling at his belt, seemed destined for the championship
itself. Alas, pride goeth before a fall. The fall came to Vinnie
suddenly.
The following week was the Longwood Singles. "Little Bill"
Johnston arrived East, together with the rest of his California
team, the day the event started. Johnston was the holder of the
trophy and was called on to meet the winner of the tournament in
the challenge round.
The tournament was mainly Dick Williams. He defeated Shimidzu in
the final. Kumagae was his victim in an earlier round.
Willis E. Davis, second string of the California team, was
unexpectedly defeated by N. W. Niles, who himself went the long
road via Shimidzu. The little Japanese star scored another
important victory when he defeated W. F. Johnson.
Williams met Johnston in the challenge round with chances bright.
Somehow Little Bill has Dick's number these days and again
decisively defeated him. Vincent Richards wisely rested the week
of Longwood, preparing for the later events. I was off in the
woods at Camp Winnipesaukee recuperating from the effects of
illness in England.
Newport followed on the heels of Longwood. Newport should be
called Washburn Week. Here the judicial Watty methodically placed
Johnston and Williams in the discard on successive days. It was a
notable performance.
Williams took an awful revenge on Vinnie Richards when the two
met in the third round. It was Williams' day and he blew the
little Yonkers boy off the court in one of the finest displays of
the whole year. Shimidzu, who had again scored a victory over
Wallace Johnson, was taken suddenly ill with ptomaine poisoning,
the night before he was to meet Williams in the semi final, and
compelled to default. It robbed him of a chance to gain revenge
for his defeat at Longwood. Washburn played the best tennis of
his life, in defeating Johnston and Williams, which, coupled with
Richards' crushing defeat, placed Washburn on the Davis Cup team.
A sensational upset occurred in the first round when L. B. Rice
defeated W. E. Davis. Rice has made a great improvement this year
and bids fair to go far.
Seabright, the next week, found Little Bill Johnston playing the
stellar role. Washburn took a week off but Williams and Richards
were in the competition.
Johnston crushed Richards when the two met, in a display of
aggressive tennis so remarkable that the boy was helpless before
it. Richards was stale and below form, but even if he had been at
his best, he could not have withstood Johnston's attack. Little
Bill followed this up by sweeping Williams off the court by
another marvellous streak of well nigh perfect tennis.
Southampton and the Women's National Championship conflicted the
next week. The story of Mrs. Mallory's sensational triumph and
successful defense of her title is told elsewhere in this book.
Southampton, as always, proved the goat, for almost all the
leading players took a week's rest before the National Doubles
Championship.
The English Davis Cup team, Willis E. Davis, Vincent Richards and
the Kinsey brothers, Bob and Howard, were the leading stars. The
event narrowed to Davis and Richards in the finals with no upsets
of a startling nature. Davis had had a very poor record all year,
while Richards boasted of the finest list of victories of the
season. On the other hand the boy was over-tennised and stale and
it proved his undoing, for after one set, which he won easily,
the sting went out of his game and Davis took the match in four
sets.
The championships were just ahead. The Doubles held at Longwood
Club, Boston, found several teams closely matched. Williams and
Washburn, with the Rhode Island State and Newport to their
credit, were the favorites for the title. "Little Bill" Johnston
and W. E. Davis and Bob and Howard Kinsey of California had both
pressed them closely. Vincent Richards and I teamed together for
the first time since N. E. Brookes and G. L. Patterson had won
the title from us in 1919. Samuel Hardy and S. H. Voshell were a
pair of veterans who needed watching.
Williams and Washburn had a close call in the third round when
Hardy and Voshell led 3-1 in the fifth set, but an unfortunate
miss of an easy volley by Hardy and a footfault on game point at
3-4 and 30-40 by Voshell turned the tide and the favorites were
safe. Johnston and Davis had several chances in the semi-final
but Davis was too uncertain and Bill too anxious and they tossed
away the opportunities.
Vinnie and I met the Kinseys in the semi-final and after chasing
their lobs all over the court for hours and smashing until our
backs ached, we finally pulled out three sequence sets. I have
seldom seen a team work together more smoothly than the Kinseys.
The final match between Williams and Washburn, Richards and I for
two sets was as sensational and closely contested doubles as ever
featured a national championship. Our slight superiority in
returning service gave us just enough margin to pull out the
first two sets 14-12, 12-10. Then Richards went mad. There is no
other way to describe it. Every time he got his racquet on a ball
it went for a clean placement. I stood around and watched him.
Almost single-handed this remarkable boy won the last set 6-2.
The Davis Cup challenge round stretched itself between the
Doubles and Singles Championship. There was no work except for us
poor hard-working players who were on the team. The rest was a
blessing to Richards, who needed it badly, as he was tired and
drawn.
Following the American victory in the Davis Cup, the scene
shifted to Philadelphia and the eyes of the tennis world were
centered on the Germantown Cricket Club, where the greatest
tournament of all time was to be held. Players of seven nations
were to compete. The Davis Cup stars of England, Australia and
Japan added their brilliance to that of all the leading American
players. Six American champions, W. A. Larned, W. J. Clothier, R.
N. Williams, R. L. Murray, W. M. Johnston, and myself were
entered.
Fate took a hand in the draw and for once I think did so badly
that it settled the "blind draw" forever. In one sixteen
Johnston, Richards, Shimidzu, Murray and I were bunched. The howl
of protest from tennis players and public alike was so loud that
the blind draw surely will go by the board at the coming annual
meeting. Since the foregoing was written, the prophecy has proved
true. The annual meeting, Feb. 4th, 1922, adopted the "Seeded
Draw" unanimously.
Every day produced its thrills, but play ran singularly true to
form in most cases. Illness took a hand in the game, compelling
the defaults of R. L. Murray, Ichiya Kumagae and W. A. Larned.
The early rounds saw but one upset. Norman Peach, Captain of the
Australasian Davis Cup team, was eliminated by William W.
Ingraham, of Providence, one of the best junior players in
America. It was a splendid victory and shows the fruit our junior
development system is already bearing. Peach had not been well
but for all that he played a splendid game and all credit is due
Ingraham for his victory.
The second day's play saw a remarkable match when W. E. Davis
defeated C. V. Todd of Australia after the latter led him by two
sets. Davis steadily improved and by rushing the net succeeded in
breaking up Todd's driving game. Todd unfortunately pulled a
muscle in his side that seriously hampered him in the fifth set.
Wallace F. Johnson, playing magnificent tennis, eliminated Watson
Washburn in one of the brainiest, hardest fought matches of the
whole tournament.
Johnson was very steady and outlasted Washburn in the first set,
which he won. Washburn then took to storming the net and carried
off two sets decisively. The strain took its toll and he was
perceptibly slower when the fourth set opened. Johnson ran him
from corner to corner, or tossed high lobs when Washburn took the
net. It proved too much for even Washburn to stand, and the
Philadelphian won the next two sets and with it the match. Many
people considered it a great upset. Personally I expected it, as
I know how dangerous Johnson may be.
The Johnston-Richards match and my meeting with Shimidzu came on
the third day. Fully 15,000 people jammed themselves around the
court and yelled, clapped and howled their excitement through the
afternoon. It was a splendidly behaved gallery but a very
enthusiastic one.
Richards, eager to avenge his crushing defeat by Johnston at
Seabright, started with a rush. "Little Bill" was uncertain and
rather nervous. Richards ran away with the first two sets almost
before Johnston realized what was happening. The tennis Richards
played in these sets was almost unbeatable. Johnston nerved
himself to his task and held even to 3-all in the third. Here he
broke through and Richards, I think foolishly, made little
attempt to pull out the set. The boy staked all on the fourth
set. Johnston led at 5-3 but Richards, playing desperately,
pulled up to 6-5 and was within two points of the match at 30-all
on Johnston's service. It was his last effort. Johnston took the
game and Richards faded away. His strength failed him and the
match was Johnston's.
I hit a good streak against Shimidzu and ran away with three
straight sets more or less easily.
Meantime one of the most sensational upsets of the whole
tournament was taking place on an outside court where Stanley W.
Pearson of Philadelphia was running the legs off N. W. Niles of
Boston and beating him in five sets.
"Little Bill" Johnston and I met the next day in what was the
deciding match of the tournament, even though it was only the
fourth round. Every available inch of space was jammed by an
overflow gallery when we took the count. It was a bitter match
from the first point. We were both playing well. In the early
stages Little Bill had a slight edge, but after one set the
balance shifted and I held the whip hand to the end.
The same day Dick Williams went down to sudden and unexpected
defeat at the hands of J. O. Anderson of Australia in five well
played sets. It was a typical Williams effort, glorious tennis
one minute followed by inexcusable lapses. The Australian was
steady and clever throughout.
The keen speculation as to the outcome of the tournament fell off
after the meeting of Johnston and I, and with it a decrease in
attendance. This ran very high, however, again reaching capacity
on the day of the finals.
The round before the semi finals saw a terrific struggle between
two Californians, Bob Kinsey and Willis E. Davis. Kinsey had
defeated Davis in the Metropolitan Championship the week before
and was expected to repeat, but Davis managed to outlast his team
and nosed out the match. Kinsey collapsed on the court from
exhaustion as the last point was played.
Gordon Lowe went down to me in a fine match while J. O. Anderson
and Wallace Johnson completed the Quartet of semi finalists,
I finally got my revenge on Davis for the many defeats he had
inflicted on me in years gone by. Wallace Johnson scored a
magnificent victory over J. O. Anderson in four sets after the
Australian led at a set all, 5-2, and 40-15. Johnson ran the
visiting Davis Cup star all over the court and finally pulled out
the match in one of the finest displays of court generalship I
have ever seen.
The finals was more or less of a family party. It was an
all-Philadelphian affair, two Philadelphians competing with
14,000 more cheering them on.
Johnson was unfortunate. Saturday the match was started under a
dark sky on a soft court that just suited him. I have seldom seen
Johnson play so well; as always, his judgment was faultless. We
divided games with service with monotonous regularity. The score
was 5-all when it began to drizzle. The court, soft at best that
day, grew more treacherous and slippery by the minute. Johnson's
shots hardly left the ground. He broke my service at 7-all when
the rain materially increased. He reached 40-15 but, with the
crowd moving to shelter and the rain falling harder every minute,
he made the fatal error of hurrying and netted two easy shots for
deuce, A moment more and the game was mine and the match called
at 8-all.
Play was resumed on Monday before a capacity gallery. By mutual
agreement the match was played over from the beginning. I had
learned my lesson the previous day and opened with a rush. The
hot sun and strong wind had hardened the court and Johnson's
shots rose quite high. It was my day and fortunately for me I
made the most of it.
I consider that match the best tennis of my life. I beat Johnson
6-1, 6-3, 6-1 in 45 minutes. Thus fell the curtain on the
official tennis season.
The East-West matches in Chicago proved more or less of an
anti-climax. Johnston was ill and unable to compete, while
Wallace Johnson, Williams, Washburn and Shimidzu could not play.
Several remarkable matches featured the three days' play in the
Windy City. The most remarkable was the splendid victory of J. O.
Anderson over me in five sets, the final one of which hung up a
world's record for tournament play by going to 19-17. Frank T.
Anderson defeated Robert Kinsey in five sets, a splendid
performance, while S. H. Voshell scored over W. E. Davis.
The Ranking Committee faces a hard task on the season's play. Let
us look at the records of some of the American players, and a few
of our visitors.
1. W. M. Johnston Beat V. Richards 2, Williams (2), Kumagae,
Shimidzu, Roland Roberts, Davis and others. Lost to Washburn,
Tilden, Roberts.
2. R. N. Williams 2d. Beat Richards, Shimidzu, Kumagae (2),
Voshell and others. Lost to Johnston (2), Richards, J. O.
Anderson, Kumagae.
3. Vincent Richards Beat Tilden, Richards, Kumagae (2), Shimidzu
(2), (in exhibition at Toronto), Voshell, Hawkes, Lost to
Johnston (2), Williams, Davis.
4. Ishiya Kumagae Beat Williams, Voshell, Anderson, Hawkes. Lost
to Johnston, Tilden, Williams, Richards.
5. Zenzo Shimidzu Beat Wallace Johnson (2), Anderson, Hawkes,
Niles. Lost to Johnston, Tilden (2), Voshell (2). Richards (2)
(in exhibitions).
6. Wallace Johnson Beat Watson, Washburn, Anderson. Lost to
Tilden, Shimidzu (2).
7. Watson Washburn Beat Williams, Johnston, Voshell. Lost to
Wallace Johnson, Tilden, Atherton Richards (a most sensational
upset).
8. J. O. Anderson of Australia Beat R. N. Williams, Tilden,
Hawkes, Lowe. Lost to Wallace Johnson, Kumagae, Shimidzu.
9. S. H. Voshell Beat Shimidzu (2) , Davis. Lost to Richards,
Williams, Washburn, Neer (an upset), Allen Behr (a gift).
10. W. E. Davis Beat Richards, R. Kinsey, Lowe. Lost to Niles, L.
B. Rice (an upset), R. Kinsey, Voshell and Tilden.
These few records show how useless comparative scores may be. If
another season like 1921 strikes American tennis, the ranking
will need either clairvoyance or a padded cell.
These upsets are part of the zest of the game and it is due to
the very uncertainty of tennis that the public is daily becoming
more enthusiastic about the game. I believe next year will see
even a greater interest taken in it than was shown this.
Second in importance only to the big events themselves was the
season in junior tennis.
Little Miss Helen Wills, in her first Eastern season, won the
junior championship for girls and brought to the game one of the
most delightful personalities that has appeared in many years.
Her success at her early age should prove a great boom to girls'
tennis all over America.
Vincent Richards passes from the junior ranks this year but
leaves a successor who is worthy to wear his mantle in the person
of Arnold W. Jones of Providence. Jones should outclass the field
in 1922, by as wide a margin as did Richards this year.
Arnold Jones has had a remarkable record. He won the boys'
championship of America in 1919. In 1920 he carried Richards to a
close match in the National junior Singles, taking one set. He
was ranked "two" for the year.
This year Arnold had his greatest year of his brief career. He
journeyed to France and England, as the official junior
representative of America, recognized by the National Tennis
Association. He played splendidly in France, defeating A. Cousin
in the hard court championship of the world and forced Tegner,
the Danish Davis Cup star, to a close battle before admitting
defeat. His sensational play in the doubles was a great aid in
carrying him and me to the semi-final ground, where we lost to
Gobert and Laurentz after five terrific sets. In England young
Jones played Jacob, Captain of the Indian Davis Cup team, a
splendid match.
On his return to America he carved his niche in the Hall of
Junior Tennis fame by defeating Harold Godshall of California, W.
W. Ingraham of Providence and Morgan Bernstein of New York on
successive days in the junior championship. He forced Richards to
a bitter fight in final, and again proved beyond question that he
is but a step behind Richards today, although he is a full year
younger.
Godshall, Ingraham, Charles Wood, Jr., Bernstein, Jerry Lang,
Charles Watson III, Fritz Mercur and many other boys are but a
step behind Jones. With this list of rising players, need we face
the future with anything but the most supreme confidence in our
ability to hold our place in the tennis world!
There were two other remarkable features to the tennis season of
1921, both of them in America. The first was the appearance of
the Davis Cup team on the court of the White House, Washington,
in response to a personal invitation from President and Mrs.
Harding. The President, who is a keen sportsman, placed official
approval on tennis by this act. On May 8th and 9th, Captain
Samuel Hardy, R. N. Williams, Watson Washburn and I, together
with Wallace F. Johnson, who understudied for William M.
Johnston, met in a series of matches before a brilliant assembly
of Diplomatic, Military and Political personages. C. S. Garland
was unable to accompany the team owing to illness. Julian S.
Myrick, President of the U. S. L. T. A., and A. Y. Leech
completed the party.
Rain, that hoodoo of tennis, attempted to ruin the event for it
fell steadily for the five days previous to the match. The court
was a sea of mud on the morning scheduled, but the President
desired play and the word went on "to play." Mr. Leech and Mr.
Myrick, ever ready for emergencies in tennis, called for
gasolene, which was forthcoming speedily, and, while the Chief
Executive of the United States interviewed men on the destiny of
nations, the people of Washington watched nearly 200 barrels of
gasolene flare up over the surface of the court. The desired
result was attained and at 2 o'clock President Harding personally
called play. Singles between Williams and me opened the matches.
Then Williams and Washburn decisively defeated Johnson and me,
following which Williams and I nosed out Washburn and Johnson to
close the program.
The second outstanding feature was the tour for the benefit of
the American Committee for Devastated France. The appearance in
America of Mlle. Suzanne Lenglen was due primarily to the efforts
of Miss Anne Morgan, who secured the services of the famous
French champion for a tour of the States, the proceeds to go to
Devastated France. Mlle. Lenglen's regrettable collapse and
forced departure left the Committee in a serious position. The
American Tennis Association, which had co- operated with Miss
Morgan in the Lenglen tour, found its clubs eager for a chance to
stage matches for France but no matches available. Finally, in
October, in response to the voluntary offer of several of the
leading players, a team was organized that toured the East for
the benefit of Devastated France. It included Mrs. Franklin I.
Mallory, American champion, Miss Eleanor Goss, Miss Leslie
Bancroft, Mrs. B. F. Cole, Mrs. F. H. Godfrey, Vincent Richards,
Watson Washburn, N. W. Niles, R. N. Williams, W. F. Johnson and
myself. Matches were staged at Orange, Short Hills, Morristown
and Elizabeth, New Jersey, Green Meadow Club, Jackson Heights
Club, Ardsley-on-the-Hudson, New Rochelle, Yonkers, New York, New
Haven, and Hartford, Connecticut. They proved a tremendous
success financially, and France netted a sum in excess of
$10,000.
PART IV: SOME SIDELIGHTS ON FAMOUS PLAYERS
INTRODUCTORY
P. T. BARNUM immortalised Lincoln's language by often quoting him
with: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all
of the people some of the time, but you can't fool all of the
people all of the time." P. T. was an able judge of the public,
and it is just this inability to fool all of the people all of
the time that accounts for the sudden disappearance from the
public eye of some one who only fooled all of the people for a
little while. That person was a sham, a bluff, a gamester. He, or
she, as the case may be, had no personality.
Personality needs no disguise with which to fool the people. It
is not hidden in a long-hair eccentric being. That type is merely
one of those who are "born every minute," as the saying goes.
Personality is a dynamic, compelling force. It is a positive
thing that will not be obliterated.
Personality is a sexless thing. It transcends sex. Theodore
Roosevelt was a compelling personality, and his force and ability
were recognized by his friends and enemies alike while the
public, the masses, adored him without knowing why. Sarah
Bernhardt, Eleanor Duse, and Mary Garden carry with them a force
far more potent in its appeal to the public than their mere
feminine charm. They hold their public by personality. It is not
trickery, but art, plus this intangible force.
The great figures in the tennis world that have held their public
in their hands, all have been men of marked personality. Not all
great tennis players have personality. Few of the many stars of
the game can lay claim to it justly. The most powerful
personality in the tennis world during my time is Norman E.
Brookes, with his peculiar sphinx-like repression, mysterious,
quiet, and ominous calm. Brookes repels many by his peculiar
personality. He never was the popular hero that other men,
notably M'Loughlin and Wilding, have been. Yet Brookes always
held a gallery enthralled, not only by the sheer wizardry of his
play, but by the power of his magnetic force.
Maurice E. M'Loughlin is the most remarkable example of a
wonderful dynamic personality, literally carrying a public off
its feet. America and England fell before the dazzling smile and
vibrant force of the red-haired Californian. His whole game
glittered in its radiance. His was a triumph of a popular hero.
Anthony F. Wilding, quiet, charming, and magnetic, carried his
public away with him by his dynamic game. It was not the
whirlwind flash of the Comet M'Loughlin that swept crowds off
their feet, it was more the power of repression that compelled.
I know no other tennis players that sweep their public away with
them to quite the same degree as these three men I have
mentioned. R. L. Murray has much of M'Loughlin's fire, but not
the spontaneity that won the hearts of the crowd. Tennis needs
big personalities to give the public that glow of personal
interest that helps to keep the game alive. A great personality
is the property of the public. It is the price he must pay for
his gift.
It is the personal equation, the star, who appeals to the
public's imagination.
I do not think it is the star who keeps the game alive. It is
that great class of players who play at clubs the world over, who
can never rise above the dead level of mediocrity, the mass of
tennis enthusiasts who play with dead racquets and old balls, and
who attend all big events to witness the giants of the court, in
short, "The Dubs" (with a capital D), who make tennis what it is,
and to whom tennis owes its life, since they are its support and
out from them have come our champions.
Champions are not born. They are made. They emerge from a long,
hard school of defeat, dis- encouragement, and mediocrity, not
because they are born tennis players, but because they are
endowed with a force that transcends discouragement and cries "I
will succeed."
There must be something that carries them up from the mass. It is
that something which appeals in some form to the public. The
public may like it, or they may dislike it, but they recognize
it. It may be personality, dogged determination, or sheer genius
of tennis, for all three succeed; but be it what it may, it
brings out a famous player. The quality that turns out a great
player, individualizes his game so that it bears a mark peculiar
to himself. I hope to be able to call to mind the outstanding
qualities of some of the leading tennis players of the world.
Where to start, in a field so great, representing as it does
America, the British Isles, Australia, France, Japan, South
Africa, Rumania, Holland, and Greece, is not an easy task; but it
is with a sense of pride and a knowledge that there is no game
better fitted to end this section of my book, and no man more
worthy to lead the great players of the world, that I turn to
William M. Johnston, the champion of the United States of
America, and my team-mate in the Davis Cup team of 1920.