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The Summing-Up: Legendary Tennis Players
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 Alice Marble, No. 1 U.S. Woman Tennis Player, Victoriously Leaping over Tennis Net on Court Premium Photographic Print Mili, Gjon 18 in. x 24 in. Buy at AllPosters.com Framed Mounted Half a century of tennis is over for me, and I hope there are a still a few years of it ahead. It is natural that memory casts a roseate hue over the years that are gone, and the Players that peopled them. Still, if I am to keep abreast of the times, I cannot afford to live in the past. I can hold dear my recollections of such stars as Billy Johnston, Vinnie Richards, Dick Williams, Norman Brookes, Gerald Patterson, J. O. Anderson, Ichiya Kumagae, Zenzo Shimizu, Frank Hunter, Manual Alonso, Henri Cochet, Rene Lacoste, Jean Borotra, and the other greats of my amateur days. I can see those marvelous women, Molla Mallory, Hazel Hotchkiss Wightman, May Sutton Bundy, Mary Kendall Browne, Lili D' Alvarez, Mrs. Lambert Chambers, Suzanne Lenglen, Cilly Aussem, Betty Nuthall, Bobbie Heine Miller, Helen Wills, and Helen Jacobs, walking in the rosy glow of the good old days.
I realize I cannot stay back in that Golden Era, and my nostalgic memories move forward. I meet such players as Ellsworth Vines, Jr., Gottfried von Cramm, Fred Perry, Jack Crawford, Sidney Wood, Jr., Frank Shields, Hans Nusslein, Roman Najuch, Robert Ramillon, Martin Plaa, Sarah Palfrey Cooke, Pauline Betz, Kay Stammers, Jean Nicoll, Nancye Wynne, Mary Hardwick, and the one and only Alice Marble, many of whom are still in active competition. But even these memories are still of the past. A few short years ago the world was torn asunder, and it is still licking its wounds. The old days have gone, and with them much that made the great days of tennis. Much that went out of the world must be found again and restored. Just so, much that went out of tennis must be regained and returned to the game.
The quality that tennis had during the years between the two World Wars was the same as was found in the theatre, the opera, and many other places in the entertainment world. Same called it "glamour." Others called it "colour." It was an indescribable something that spectators felt and loved. Somewhere, in the tragic years of war, that quality died and, except in a few individuals, has not yet returned. I can recall many tennis stars who had this quality in same form or another. It was a peculiar electric atmosphere they carried with them, so that from the moment they stepped on a court the gallery was set for drama. It was not necessarily a dynamic personality, although most of the people possessing it had that. Yet so placid an exterior as that of Helen Wills or Rene Lacoste still galvanized a gallery and united it in interest. The vital, vibrant personalities of Jean Borotra, Suzanne Lenglen, and Molla Mallory carried a gallery along with them, and set the stage from their very entrances for the suspenseful drama of their matches.
The last great personalities to carry electric excitement on to the court with them from the onset were F.J. Perry, Gottfried von Cramm, Frank Kovacs, and Pauline Betz.
I have spent hours trying to decide what it was that all these colourful people had in common, and what it was that the present group lacks. I have decided that it lies largely in the physical expression of their mental poise, and confidence in their games. When any of the old group walked out on a court, there was that in his or her manner which said, "Here comes a champion." It was not said in conceit. it was an unconscious expression of an inner quality. Today, most of our players ooze on to the court, shamble awkwardly out with uncertainty or even defiance.
If they make a forceful entrance, it is arrogant rather than confident. It is part and parcel of the whole modern method of play. Hit, hustle, and rush, but don't think.
When one finds an exception to this rule, he or she is a delight to the gallery and a joy to the box office. Yet there is more than just the individual to blame for the present lack of glamour in tennis. I think some of the trouble lies with the organization and staging of the big championships. The commercialization of the game, which has grown steadily, particularly since the war, has led to much phony showmanship, the inclusion of extraneous exhibitions and specialties that have no place in a championship, and a pompous overofficiated atmosphere that swallows up the game itself. After all, it is the game that is important. Too much emphasis is placed on the microphone and television, and not enough on the championship. I am certainly not unique in the feeling that colour and glamour have gone from the game. Columns have been written by the press on it.
Unfortunately, many of the younger players have been deluded as to what colour and glamour are. They have put temper in the place that temperament should occupy. Racquet throwing, loud cursing, and lying down on the ground between points are neither colourful nor glamorous. Bad manners irritate rather than please galleries. A big grin and a sincere "Good shot!" will win many more followers than a sour puss and "Good God!" The present day players seem to me to fall into two classifications: those who are in a perpetual rage or agony, and those who are robots on a tennis court. Why can't they have fun any mare when they play tennis? If colour and glamour are to come back to tennis, the game must once more be a sport that people play for enjoyment.
The modern players include many splendid sportsmen and charming girls, but those who have that wonderful electric quality that thrills an audience are few and far between. However, there are two outstanding examples, one man and one girl, who have everything to make great box-office attractions and start the march back to colour and glamour. The man is Richard Gonzales, 1948 and 1949 United States Champion and now a professional. The girl is Gertrude Moran, who is still outranked by several women. These two stand head and shoulders above the field in having gallery appeal.
There are many others among both sexes who are worthy of discussion. In writing of the modern players, if at times I seem unduly critical of their technical equipment or their tactical abilities, it is because I believe them capable of greater things and regret that they have not fulfilled their latent powers. I believe American youth today is potentially the greatest in our history. I hope to see the next decade produce the greatest tennis players of history right here in the U.S.A. it is only fitting that in opening my review of modern players, I start with the man who swept our major amateur championships over the past two years, and who is most likely to revitalize the professional game, if it can be done.
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