Sports Then and Now

In the 2008 U.S. Open, Venus couldn't capitalize on 10 set point opportunities in losing to eventually Champion Serena in the Quarterfinals.

There’s a certain commercial for the 2009 US Open—one where Serena Williams has two dolls in her lap.

“I’m gonna beat you, Venus,” Serena says, marching one doll over her knee into the other one’s face.

“No, you not,” replies the second doll in an elevated, falsetto voice.

Near Misses: the canvas on which is painted ugly, bitter things, the scope of which contains hidden beauty that lingers in the mind like the aftertaste of a fine, aged Scotch.

The subject of this series is not the winner, but the so-called “loser,” the one whose exit is at first bitter and burning like the first note of a 30-year-old Glenmorangie, but for whom the second note is sweet, nuanced, and lasting, just like said 30-year-old Scotch.

Richard Williams, their notorious, old father and coach, announced, when Venus won her first title, that his two daughter’s would ultimately find that their greatest rival would be each other.

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Nikolay Davydenko ended 2009 with a victory in the Barclays ATP World Tour Finals.

Nikolay Davydenko has certainly gained a new fan over the last couple of months. Not that a man with millions of dollars already safe in his bank account needed a new fan, but the way the tennis world has taken notice of the world No. 6 is a testimony of what he has achieved this season.

His path to success has been nicely documented everywhere. His ability to take the ball ridiculously early, almost as early as Andre Agassi used to do in the past, and certainly a bit better than Roger Federer does on occasions when he does not pull out those magical “Federer” shots. His short height allows him to create extremely acute angles on both sides of court, and it also enables him to move as fast as a cat laterally.

The recent addition of his much improved serve and a “belief” of belonging to the top group paid rich dividends as he was extremely satisfied after realizing that his name would forever be on the WTF trophy.

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Like a hardened tree, Pancho Gonzalez exhibited the posture of resistance.

Not far from my place, there stands an old windswept pine, so hardened by the elements that even on a calm day it exhibits the posture of resistance. It seems unrelenting in its refusal to bow.

More than once, the old tree has symbolized for me the human traits of stubbornness, perseverance, endurance and toughness. Its sinewy skin and tightly-clenched roots tell of a life filled with challenge and pain. Yet it still stands there in defiant victory.

That sun-bleached, aged pine has not merely survived…it has actually thrived. The perplexity of that thought has often brought to mind a particular person. As I set about to research this story, it became clear that my subject was one such person.

Ricardo Alonso Gonzalez, the son of Mexican immigrants, faced the winds of adversity from the onset of his tennis career.

As a young minority teen-ager in 1940s Los Angeles, he was shunned by the upper levels of society. Gonzales often spent time watching tennis enthusiasts unwind at neighborhood parks and public courts.

He was intrigued by the combination of power and finesse that tennis required and would emulate the moves he so diligently observed through the fence. Thus was laid the self-taught foundation of Pancho Gonzales’ fabulous career.

Tennis became his obsession and predictably, his studies and social skills suffered. Truancy and trouble with the law soon followed. Then, a year of juvenile detention.

Though his talent was by now undeniable, his rowdy reputation and cultural roots ensured his exclusion from LA’s upper-crust tennis clubs.

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Maria Bueno won seven Grand Slam singles titles.

You are ice and fire with a touch that burns my hands like snow—Amy Lowell

Maria Esther Andion Bueno rose to the top of women’s tennis in the ’50s and ’60s, employing her natural ability to carve a unique mark on the women’s game.

Bueno grew up during an era prior to the movement known as women’s liberation.  Back then she was a novelty—a woman born with natural athletic gifts who lived to find and fulfill her destiny.  Such a feat was rare in those days because even superlative women often remained wedged in their seats at the back of the bus.

Remarkably, Bueno won seven grand slam singles championships, three Wimbledons, and four U.S. Open titles, 11 doubles championships with six different partners, and one mixed doubles title with partner Bob Howe at the French Championships in 1960—for a total of 19 grand slam crowns.

She was ranked in the top 10 in the world from 1958 through 1960 and then again from 1962 through 1968.  She held the No. 1 ranking in 1959, 1960, and in 1964.

Bueno, born on Oct. 11, 1939, resided in Sau Paulo, Brazil.  Her father and mother both loved and played tennis socially.  The family lived modestly in comfortable middle class society in a home directly across the street from a tennis club facility.

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Tennis players regularly have to deal with both the emotional high of winning and the emotional low of losing.

After a spectacular loss to Roger Federer in the 2007 Australian Open, Andy Roddick, said, “It was frustrating, it was miserable, it sucked, it was terrible…Besides that it was fine.”

Decades ago, for those of us in the US old enough to remember, ABC used to open a weekly sports show citing, in equal measure: the Joy of Victory…and the Agony of Defeat (using a horrible skiing accident to illustrate the latter).

The truth is that defeat, though agonizing, can often be the most inspiring illumination of character that comes out of a sporting contest.

This year, Roger Federer took two of the most spectacular losses a champion can accept, and also recorded two of the most spectacular wins a champion could ever make in meeting, then breaking, the all-time Slam record formerly held by Pete Sampras.

But this is an article about that state of grace that can sometimes be entered by a sporting champion in defeat.

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Women's Professional Tennis is what it is today thanks to Billie Jean King

A tribute to a personal heroine who celebrates her 66th birthday on 22nd November.

A first impression

What was it about one particular woman, wielding her wooden racket in the black and white world of 1960s television, that imprinted itself in this fan’s memory? She came from another country, and she played a game I had barely learned to understand, let alone master.

To me, she looked middle-aged even though still in her early 20s. She was ordinary in appearance but unusual in demeanor.

I knew nothing of her background nor of her achievements in tennis—other than she had just beaten the homely, and British, Ann Jones. But once I heard her name, I never forgot it.

Billie Jean King.

Her story has been simmering in the bloodstream ever since, because her name takes me back to my very first monochrome memories of tennis and of Wimbledon—for it was only Wimbledon that made its way into British living rooms back then.

These were impressionable years for a girl heading towards adolescence. It was the uncomfortable realisation that my mother seemed quite embarrassingly enamoured of the Santanas and Newcombes. It was also the uncomfortable realisation that King was being undermined by that mother’s slights about her appearance, her manner, and her attitudes.

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