Thoughts about Tennis Tradition...

[don_budge]

A Day of Rest...thinking about today and 1984.

Today is a day of rest...exhausted. Too much tennis over the weekend. Never has tennis been so much fun...continental style. Two wins over the weekend...total age difference...43 years. My coach, Rolf Almgreen has been really, really helpful in sorting out the backhand drive.

That aspect of the continental transformation has been very enlightening as well...working with a coach. Being on the other end as a student is a great experience for the teacher. Nothing like being humble. I don't believe that I have ever had private lessons as such. We have worked together five times...each session has been fruitful. He's a Swede but he speaks English like an Aussie. That helps...believe it or not. He talks of Emerson, Laver and Rosewall. He's pretty fluent in McEnroe as well. To know Laver is to know McEnroe. That's my kind of tennis coach. He's 74...just like bottle!

Please come back tomorrow for the final set in the 1984 Wimbledon final. The John McEnroe demolition of Jimmy Connors. 1984...the demolition of Classic Tennis.

Please see...Roger Running Forehand All I Want. That's all that I had in me today. Tired. Playing tennis on my off days. Nothing feels better than to hit the ball. That's all I want. Nothing's so loud...nothing's so cold.

I'll be back.

[don_budge]

1984 Wimbledon Final...Greenfield Village and The Dearborn Inn and The Rouge Plant

Your theme: The uncritical mind. I like the parts about 1984 ads very much.

1984-- I remember it being different in a few ways from the same name prophetical book but not in many significant ways.

And by now Orwell's "fear game" is still more refined.

Bot Escher

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

Now ladies and gentlemen, here is a commercial that harbors near to my heart as I type these words thousands of miles from where I was born. From where I grew up. From where I originally learned how to play tennis. Somehow, someway the multi-conglomerate Xerox has chosen a spot that is in the precise geographic location where I grew up in Dearborn, Michigan. They have chosen Greenfield Village to shoot their spot in their quest for the almighty consumer dollar during the 1984 Wimbledon Men's Championships. Greenfield Village is actually a rather large restored historical village where much of the original beginnings of Henry Ford and even Thomas Edison have been preserved for time ever after. It actually is one of the biggest and oldest tourist attractions in the midwest of America.

Dearborn is, afterall, the home of the Ford Motor Company World Headquarters. I worked for the company for nearly 25 years...until my division was on the verge of a second bankruptcy and was sold to a Russian steel manufacturer. Old Henry must of rolled in his grave when that slick real estate deal went down. They showed me the door the day before the transaction took place. Office politics can be a real bitch sometimes...but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Honest to God. The best thing that ever happened to me was to be shown the door after 25 years of loyal service. I have the documentation to prove it. The highest performance review allowed...without canonization. It taught me something...DTA. Don’t trust anybody! At least not if they are wearing a suit and tie.

In the run-up to the bankruptcy all of my company stock was reduced to pennies so when they showed me the door...I was nearly worthless. It just so happened that I had gone to work that day with a rather bad cold and felt like shit anyways. In the meeting with Salary Personnel and my supervisor, who had been hunting me ever since I made the wrong turn to work in her department from the safety of the bowels of the Rouge Plant...they asked me if there was anything that I wanted to say as they were showing me the door. I asked them a question instead...would it make any difference if I did? Apparently not. They seemed a little bit surprised...I think that they expected me to grovel some. Actually I felt as if I was nailed to a cross looking down at them. I pitied them. Forgave them instantly. The only revenge in life...is success!

Down there in the bowels of Henry Ford's dream which in reality is quite a nighmare. Politely put, one might say it was the armpit of the world... it was where Ferdinand Celine did some of his early apprenticeship back in the late twenties or early thirties for his "Journey to the End of the Night". I was doing my own best impression of Colonel Kurtz at the end of the river deep in the “Heart of Darkness”. I was a wannabe actor as well as a wannabe tennis player it seems...whereas in reality I was a middle management working stiff. Not the typical type by any stretch of the imagination though. We weren't dealing in ivory...or napalm as in "Apocalypse Now"...we were only doing data. Test results in a quality control laboratory. Tensile tests. Microstructure analysis. That sort of thing. Just taking care of our customers. Our poor unsuspecting customers. Unfortunately I was hoping to see the light of day up in the Rouge Office Building, but what I found was another type of shark...just different clothes of course. In a word...bitch-driven. A woman in a suit. The worst kind.

Anyways...even though I was nearly worthless and felt totally worthless...the very next day when I woke up, I said to myself...thank God that I don’t have to go back to that godforsaken place again and I had no idea whatsoever what I was going to do with my life. That’s the truth in a nutshell. Amen. I never had to go back...I never did either. I will never buy a Ford either...as long as I live. Not that it matters to them. They have long forgotten me. They forgot me as soon as the door closed behind me. Corporations do not have feelings. They have bottom lines.

This commercial in the video came to me like a lucid hallucination the first time that I saw it. Greenfield Village is sort of an unreal place to begin with...time stands still. On purpose. The place that it was in my boyhood memories is sort of a sacred place. Across the street from the village is the Dearborn Inn. The Inn was sort of the poor man’s version of the Dearborn Country Club without a golf course. They had a pool where Mom liked to sun herself and catch up on a bit of girl talk with the other ladies that frequented the pool and the deck. I used to like the pool too, for reasons of my own. I liked to play the shark and come up from the bottom and to take my boyhood crush in my arms from below. Her name was Susan and she used to like to oil herself up really slippery with Baby Oil or Coppertone. I can’t remember which it was. What a bikini body she had! A real Goddess. She used to squirm out of my grasp. I never could hang on to her...she told me later that her father didn't approve of me. But I caught up to her later in life. Up in the sand dunes of the Leelanau Peninsula in northern Michigan. The Pool used to have the sweetest grilled hamburgers and fries you could imagine. I can almost taste them here thousands of miles away and light years in time down the road, it was the late sixties...back in the woods out in the tranquil golden countryside of Sweden.

The Dearborn Inn was also a village of sorts that had restored cottages that they rented out on a hotel basis. There were even two tennis courts that were nestled back under some nice shady trees. I used to battle it out with my father sometimes there. He beat me all of the time...he was patient, played with a continental grip and just never missed. Classic sliced backhand. He never could hit topspin off that side. He could have used tennisplayer.net...this website. He used to be a professional baseball player...some say he might have been the Detroit Tigers shortstop had it not been for a man named Harvey Kuenn. He hit .361 his rookie year. Oops...a slight exaggeration. But he did lead the majors in hits and was rookie of the year in 1953. Dad’s lateral movement was superb but he never really mastered the net or approach game. His serve was mediocre...he started to play the game at the age of 37. He had the legs of a god...as a boy I remember admiring his legs wondering if when I grew up would my legs would be so strong..so manly. I used to lose my temper when he beat me. I never threw my racquet in front of him though. He was paying for them. My on court behavior was always a source of consternation to him. I have never been an angel. No surprise there. He never lost his temper...or his cool. It drove my mother crazy...she being more hysterical like me. He prides himself on his emotional control...yet I make no apologies for my temper. Except to my wife.

The actor in the Xerox commercial, whose name I never knew and whose face is almost as forgettable, comes strolling through the village on a winter’s day. As he casually ambles his way on the snowy street of the village he remarks, “it looks like a typical small town with a small hardware store and a small clothing store with a small post office...a historical restoration museum of a small town with small shops with small people with small ideas. Xerox...doesn’t like the word small, they much prefer growing. Xerox thinks that the growing business should be treated as well as a more established business. They have even formed a team of machines and people to help businesses of all sizes...it is called team Xerox”. He continues to make an attempt to separate the American consumer from their dollars...”Yes, I know...you think that Xerox is just doing it for themselves. Well, they probably wouldn’t disagree with you”. The camera pans to a restored work shop of Henry Ford’s. “You see, they feel that somewhere in a little shop like this one you might find the kind of growing business man that started right here”...he picks the FORD logo plate off of some prehistoric antique motor drive buggy. ”Boy, did he have a big idea!” Then the voice of the company takes over the slot...”Right information in the right place at the right time with the right team”.

In the end it's all a bunch of window dressing. Merely applesauce as dear old Ferdinand put it. Xerox is out for the little guy...yeah and monkeys are going to fly out of your butt tomorrow. Then it was off to parts of the world unknown. Combing the earth...for cheap labor. Just like all of the rest. Sold out by the Republicans and the Democrats. The expensive suits all paid for by the powerful corporate lobbies plus our own hard earned tax dollars. They were and still are living high on the hog. The middle class sold down the river by the officials that we elected...and continue to elect. Not that we ever had any real choices in the matter. When was the last time we had the opportunity to vote for war...or no war? For almost thirty years it was either Bush or Clinton. That’s a choice? Sort of like deciding between Obama or McCain...pick your poison. Or Romney. Or Clinton next time around. Or whoever...does it matter? Merrily, merrily down the stream we go...life is but a dream. Much like tennis. Corporate tennis. Corporate States of America. It's No Country for Old Men!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Od9FkRvvnrg

[don_budge]

1984 Wimbledon...Patti Maguire anguishes but remains so beautiful...beyond words.

Your theme: The uncritical mind. I like the parts about 1984 ads very much.

1984-- I remember it being different in a few ways from the same name prophetical book but not in many significant ways.

And by now Orwell's "fear game" is still more refined.

Bot Escher

WE HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR...BECAUSE ALL OF THE COMMERCIALS TELL ME SO.

The Match...Second set to McEnroe 6-1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

John McEnroe leaps to a 2-0 lead in the second set against a hapless Jimmy Connors on this sunny day at the 1984 Wimbledon Championships. Connors gets to 15-30 in the second game and this is the first time in the match that he has had a lead on the McEnroe service game. It was short lived needless to say. On the very next point John rips a serve at Connors that Bud Collins says...”McEnroe’s serve is just devastating, it practically tore through that steel racquet of Jimmy Connors”. This is the first and only mention of the Connors bucket of bolts equipment at 36.22 in the video...”the old style racquet that he has been using since 1967”, he continues. At this point in the match McEnroe has won 16 or 27 approaches to the net...Connors 4 of 10.

Jack Nicklaus, the man from GOLF (Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden), is hawking for Manville. Manville is a company converting “products from the earth and forest, products that make your house a home”. It’s a nice way of saying that stripping the earth is quite alright as long as you and I are warm and cozy in our abodes. Let’s face it...we have raped Mother Earth. That is what a good consumer does...takes without giving back. Like a selfish lover. TRW is next in the advertising parade and they have come up with one of the more imaginative schticks. The background images begin with the first cave etchings of the primitive creative man and they progress until it is all modern stuff...gizmos, gadgets and futuristic stuff. You know...trips to the moon and back. You get the picture. You see...as TRW puts it...”you have to draw the line somewhere then cross over it, that is how new ideas come, how new worlds open up, charting new worlds, tomorrow is taking shape”. OK TRW...I get your drift. Moving boundaries and blurring the original meanings...wait a minute, isn’t that how wars are started too? The theme is one of a new world...as in New World Order?

Meanwhile...McEnroe continues to bludgeon Connors. He pounds his serve at him and past him...ditto on his return of serves. At 38.58 Dick Enberg reports that McEnroe’s play has been brilliant during the tournament but the London Times reported “he was a gentleman on the court” too, “no ill behavior, he has been really well mannered”. Bud Collins chimes in with, “a lot of people have been upset that he hasn’t been upset”...as McEnroe slashes an overhead smash past Connors. Smash time! You see people are really screwed up...the London Times, what a rag, gives careful scrutiny to the behavior of McEnroe. Always quick to blow up the flaw of the brash Yank. People are not even happy with a well behaved McEnroe. No...they want him to roll over and let them scratch his belly. Not going to happen.

Connors fights off two break points to get to deuce when Connors puts Johnny in real trouble with a solid backhand approach volley to the McEnroe backhand but McEnroe lunges and deftly lifts the ball over the approaching Connors for an impossible lob winner from a desperate position. Another deuce and McEnroe gets a ball off of the net cord for the point...the story of the match. Everything is going Johnny's way. All of the breaks. McEnroe breaks for 3-0. Connors has been broken four times in his five service games.

Volkswagen enters the fray for the consumer dollar...their spot claims that a brand spanking new Rabbit sells for 6,995 dollars. Not a bad deal...even in 1984.

Dick Enberg is feeling rather generous to the Bad One and he says “if you are going to author a book on how to play 1984 tennis, the last 38 minutes would be a good start featuring John McEnroe. He has authored an almost perfect display of tennis”. McEnroe proceeds to belt a serve that doesn’t come up off of the grass and Connors whiffs. You don’t see Connors whiffing very often. But Enberg seems to have drawn a line of demarcation here...1984 tennis and the tennis of the past. I will bet you he either knew what he was talking about...or he didn’t.

Bud Collins recognizes the desperate position that Connors is being backed into and he says that Jimmy is “waiting, waiting, waiting...for McEnroe to cool”. As a great champion Connors is now reduced to a prayer that the game will come back to him where he will have a snowball's chance in Hades. But McEnroe never does “cool” as he is on fire and he serves another ace for a 4-0. lead in the second set. Connors has won a grand total of seven points off of the McEnroe serve in seven games. This performance from the best service returner of all time...some will say. McEnroe has won 45 points to Connors 23. Connors finally holds for 4-1 to McEnroe. He averts a bagel.

ON TV...it's the new answer to cable television. Fed up with cable TV? Already? It's only been so many years. It's only 1984. The television in the advertisement detonates. Blown to smithereens. A television being sacrificed on national television. Like a twin tower. What if we all blew up our televisions...or rather our plasma screens? Where would we be? Twiddling our thumbs trying to figure out what to do with our time? With ourselves? Yonex is next to take a swing for the almighty consumer dollar. Martina Navratilova for Yonex midsize graphite racquets...she won the “Grand Slam” of ’83 and ’84. The four titles consecutively...just not in the same year. Chris Evert was soon in the process of converting to the midsize Wilson Pro Staff as well. It wasn’t a choice any longer. It was a matter of survival for a professional tennis player at this point...an existential moment if you will.

At 49.46 in the video McEnroe slips after he volleys and falls on his ass to the grass as he follows his serve to the net...but he quickly recovers his footing, gets up and wins the point anticipating the Connors crosscourt played perhaps just a bit too nonchalantly. Bud Collins calls it a “musical chairs point, McEnroe sits down but says I better get up and win the game”. Edberg spews, “this has been a truly remarkable, total performance by John Patrick McEnroe”. That’s right Dick...not to mention the one that took place in the announcers booth that day.

Collins says that McEnroe has “spinach fingers, just so loose and limp and yet so much strength” when he is commenting on John’s volleys. In 1982 these two players played in the longest final to date which was 4 hours and 16 minutes in duration. Forty-five minutes have elapsed in this match so far as McEnroe goes up for a 5-1 lead in the second set. The court is playing “fast and slick” according to Collins. McEnroe is winning 80% of points when he gets his first serve in...Connors 51%.

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://pbvintage.com/1979/pb0779.gif&imgrefurl=http://pbvintage.com/1979.html&h=668&w=504&sz=141&tbnid=XvQLkdO8JzKg6M:&tbnh=90&tbnw=68&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dpatti%2Bmcguire%2Bconnors%26tbm%3Disch%26tbo%3Du&zoom=1&q=patti+mcguire+connors&usg=__APSSRpLczZKWIf8dl7JSd2pWkqs=&docid=NXfN8Mhfzof_XM&sa=X&ei=--A6UabRC-Wl4ATk5YHwCA&ved=0CDQQ9QEwAQ&dur=146

At 54.25 we are blessed with a shot of Mrs. Jimmy Connors...the former Patti Maguire. She was a former 1977 Playboy Centerfold too, speaking of formers. There is some terrific classic eye candy. What a beautiful woman...still looking good. I was in the locker room before Connors played McEnroe at the 1984 US Open and Jimmy kept saying to the big black guy that was his body guard...”where’s Patti?”. That's just one of the problems of being in love with the ultra beautiful woman...you always have to know where they are. There's always going to be some other guy trying to pry her loose from your hold. The funny thing is though...eventually they loose their looks too. Bud Collins comments she is feeling her husband’s anguish...watching McEnroe drill yet another return into the turf at Connors feet.

Collins comments that McEnroe “has Connors nose in the dirt trying to dig out service returns” as he follows his serve to the net...Enberg follows up with, “Connors has his chin on the grass”. McEnroe easily wins the second set with yet another let cord off of the Connors serve. 6-1, 6-1. Wham...Bam.

Next...Thank you m'am.

[don_budge]

1984 Wimbledon. John McEnroe and George Orwell

Your theme: The uncritical mind. I like the parts about 1984 ads very much.

1984-- I remember it being different in a few ways from the same name prophetical book but not in many significant ways.

Bot Escher

The subtlety of the changes are insidious. Taken one step at a time they merely blend into the tapestry of noise, distraction and confusion that passes for information in modern times. Newspeak and truthiness. Drones...no problem. Obama a Nobel Peace Prize for his war mongering...that can be arranged too. Anything is possible in the age of disinformation. You have to merely word it properly...or improperly at the precise correct moment in time and space. This is where the value of political correctness comes in handy. It's impossible for the average person to decipher...without the ability to discern.

The racquet issue was smoothly blended into the tennis paradigm until there were only one or possibly two that were holding out. It worked it's way up from the bottom. At the bottom of course were scurrilous lawyers obtaining the ridiculous patents. Then came the corporations and the money was changing hands. Finally the players had to be bought or strong armed one way or another. The players were mere pawns in the board game...just as we are in the big picture. Somehow Connors could not pull the trigger. He turned out to be the traditionalist. So did Borg as he left the stadium like a Swedish Elvis Presley. They did it their way. McEnroe went along in the end...he had to. He still had all of the cards to play. In the end he did the right thing...short of growing his hair into a '60s hippie do and shouting at the top of his lungs at the Wimbledon power echelon..."hell no, we won't go!" Ivan Lendl also prove to be stalwart. A real Titan.

The Match...First Set to McEnroe 6-1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

McEnroe easily wins his first service game and then he proceeds to break the Connors by just clubbing his service returns either at the feet of the encroaching Connors or by smashing clean winners by him...particularly on the continental gripped forehand side. McEnroe starts the match by winning 12 or the first 14 points. On the first Connors service point McEnroe follows his return in and advances to the net thereby serving notice that he is going to be aggressive...make that very aggressive. Up to this point in their rivalry McEnroe has taken command and has taken 13 consecutive sets from Connors and five straight matches. During those 13 consecutive losing sets Connors won an average of only 2 and 1/2 games a set.

Now it is time for a pitch for the new Cadillac...the Cadillac of tomorrow available today with the new front wheel drive. Next it is Apple’s turn hawking their new Macintosh...it’s sophisticated but it’s easy to use as the single instructional pamphlet descends from above and lands in slow motion on the desk. Looking at these computers you get an idea of just exactly how far we have come. The iPhone that we carry in our pocket is lights years ahead of these original dinosaurs in only the forty years that have transpired. It leaves me wondering where we are headed and at the same time I ask myself...where are we? So much has changed so quickly. Has anyone actually done any studies as to how the human race has been affected by this change? Does anyone actually care? Moving on...

In 1983 John McEnroe defeated Chris Lewis in the men's championship at Wimbledon. Lewis was ranked 90th in the world and was unseeded. He was the first player to reach the finals of the Championships using an oversized racquet. He was using a Prince Graphite which I believe measured in at 110 square inches...a true monstrosity. It did wonders in evening the field if one was short on actual skills. Bud Collins said that McEnroe virtually executed Lewis in the finals but he says that probably won’t be the story this year in the Connors and McEnroe match of 1984...little does he know. I wonder how many players on the tour of 1983 would have voted to execute Lewis for using the Prince racquet. More than one...I suspect.

At 4-1 for McEnroe, Collins makes the comment that this is “Sunday punch tennis...no subtlety yet”. A prediction of things to come for modern tennis. Then the two have the first rally of the match which McEnroe concludes with an easy smash after chasing Connors off of the net with a lob over his head. The grass center court at Wimbledon is playing fast and slick because of the heat during the tournament. Plus the actual wear and tear. On this day it is nearly 90 degrees and humid. Even so...neither player ever uses a towel, or beckons the ball boys to bring them a towel in between points. Not once during the entire match. They wiped their brows with their shirt sleeves.

Next up paying for advertising time on NBC is none other than Wilson Sporting Goods themselves. But here is the irony of ironies...it is Jimbo Connors hawking the new Wilson Pro Staff that he has supposedly designed and implemented himself. The only thing is...he is not using the racquet at the Championships. So here is McEnroe bludgeoning Connors into total submission probably because of the disparity in their equipment being the single largest factor yet here is Connors claiming to have the answer at his disposal, in his pocket, but he hasn’t put it into his bag yet. Pretty unconvincing performance if you ask me. Plus a rather bad decision. The question is why or rather why not. As Jimmy claims in his advertising lines...Wilson is ”keeping you ahead of the game”. So why was he lagging behind the times?

Jimmy Connors had reportedly been cramping after his semifinal with Ivan Lendl two days before but he had recovered sufficiently and according to the two astute shills in the announcers booth he looked fit to fight. I wonder what the recovery regimen used to be back in 1984. Of course I wonder about the truth of the regimen today. John McEnroe had also participated in the Men’s Doubles with his lifelong partner and friend Peter Fleming. They won the doubles title in five sets with a victory over Pat Cash and Paul McNamee, 6-2, 5-7, 6-2, 3-6, 6-3 in the finals. John had played the finals of the doubles with his thigh heavily taped which he removed for the fifth set...once he had sufficiently warmed up. He had played an additional 26 sets of doubles during the duration of the tournament. An amazing two weeks of endurance and finesse. Not to mention control.

McEnroe wins the first set with an ace in less than half an hour without hitting a single unforced error...six games to one. The first set statistics were as follows...McEnroe served at 76% first service percentage to Connors 83%, unforced errors McEnroe 0 to only three for Connors. A telling set of numbers...it wasn’t that Connors was playing bad it was only that McEnroe was pounding the other American into the turf with power, subtlety free and errorless tennis. A virtuoso performance by the Manhattan Maestro.

But now it is time for two other heavy hitters to step up to the plate...IBM and Paine Webber. IBM makes good use of the 1984 platform of Wimbledon Tennis to drive home the point that their “programs help you to keep up with modern times, business programs, entertainment, productivity, education”. Nothing short of buttering your bread in the morning. I sure am glad that they are on “our” side...aren’t you? As for Paine Weber, didn’t you know that...”because investing is like being on the receiving end of a Jimmy Connors serve that your quality of life depends upon the quality of your investments”. I guess that I am missing the logic in that little pearl that the script writers have drummed up for a dumbed down television audience. Jimmy, ever the growing shill, exclaims to the camera...”thank you Paine Weber”. Thank you Big Brother.

McEnroe is just warming up...as are Collins and Enberg and NBC...and the rest of the machine.

[bottle]

No, I don't take any continuations for granted other than the fragility of human existence.

Your theme: The uncritical mind. I like the parts about 1984 ads very much.

1984-- I remember it being different in a few ways from the same name prophetical book but not in many significant ways.

And by now Orwell's "fear game" is still more refined.

I'm with Joe Scarborough (a Republican!) in being in the minority on the subject of U.S. drones.

As he suggested on his early show this morning which I don't normally turn on: Most Americans support drones at the following level: They believe they should be used on the football team with fans opposing theirs.

"They (the American majority) are all George Patton," he said.

But might have gone wrong there given the universal lack of Patton's classical education or any true education.

He should have said "They're all Curtis LeMay and Archie Bunker and Joseph McCarthy and Rush Limbaugh deep in their un-souls even when they say they don't like those folks."

I appreciate your tennis insights as always--

Bot Escher

[don_budge]

1984 Wimbledon...Monsieur Kyle LaCroix

"That's what I want to be. That's the sport I want to play, That's how I want to play"

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

I guarantee as the years season you, adding spice and peppers to the boyhood dreams that you will be forced to surrender...you will find the works of Ferdinand Celine consoling to your warm and fuzzy heart. A bit dark but not for the feint of heart...I admit. I see you growing your hair long into a hippie fashion of the 60's and holding up signs at ATP events screaming "Hell no, we won't go!" The USPTA moves quickly to suspend you and your license to teach tennis. You have the gift of discernment...I think. Knowing right from wrong is no easy task these days.

That may be a stretch, it may be a bit tongue in cheek...it always is. But there is something about your attitude that I definitely like and admire. You are like a spirit among the robots and the machines that govern the USPTA. A soul longing to be saved. A knight that longs to shine and fight for her honor...the game of tennis. A possible "Quixote" complex. Be most careful if you find yourself out trying to rescue "loose" maidens! Your comments are most welcome here in the Kingdom of Traditional Tennis Thoughts...your presence is an honor. Thank you.


1984 Wimbledon...Men’s Championships John McEnroe vs. Jimmy Connors

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

At the beginning of the video the two players make their way onto hallowed grounds...the center court of Wimbledon escorted by a short stodgy fellow carrying their bags. The man looks like a guy that may be chewing on the stump of a cigar handing out towels after you wash your hands in the men’s john. His nickname is probably Stotty or something similar. He's a fixture at the grounds. He has seen them come and go...it's a thing that he knows.

Within those bags are the objects of this little story. The Dunlop bag of John McEnroe contains his relatively new piece of equipment, the new and state of the art graphite Dunlop 200G at 80 square inches. Jimmy Connors’ Wilson bag carries his antique of choice, the Wilson T2000 at either 68.5 or 70 square inches, depending on who you talk to. Depending upon which equipment guy. Anyways it's a full or nearly full 14% advantage to McEnroe. Advantage Mr. McEnroe.

At this point in time Jimmy Connors possesses the most wins at Wimbledon with a record 68 victories and John McEnroe is attempting to become the first American to repeat back to back championships at Wimbledon since Don Budge had accomplished that 46 years earlier. Both players are trying for their third championship overall at Wimbledon which would tie them for the American best with Bill Tilden at three.

Connors, who is 32 years old at the time in 1984, won the 1982 championship over McEnroe in a five set nail biter. John was three points away from victory at 4 to 3 in the fourth set tie-breaker. That match was four hours and sixteen minutes long which was a record for the longest men’s championship to that date...which is sort of hard to believe seeing as the tie-break rules must of shortened things up a pretty good deal. Connors had defeated Ivan Lendl in the semis 6-7, 6-3, 7-5, 6-1 in the semis. Connors had also dispatched a qualifier in the quarters by the name of Paul Annacone...a protege or a golfing buddy of our tennis_chiro. John McEnroe had on the other side of the draw defeated Pat Cash 6-3, 7-6, 6-4 in the semis.

In the announcers booth for NBC is Dick Enberg and the notorious tennis historian Bud Collins. Known for his garish trousers as much as his tennis knowledge, Collins is sporting a beard that would of made any Amish farmer proud. There is a brief shot of the lovely and revered Princess Diana...as nostalgia waves through the camera lens like a ghost. A spirit. The magic of television and video tape...bringing the past back into focus but shaped to specifications.

Collins at the beginning of the match is emphasizing the importance of the contestants relative strengths in the McEnroe serve and the Connors return...the irony of polar opposites on the stage at center court. As the match progresses it becomes apparent that this analogy was only half the story as the McEnroe return of the Connors serve turned the tables on the match as well as doing the most damage to the Connors psyche. He repeatedly hurts his feelings and makes him feel terrible. Collins is also prescribing use of the lob for Jimbo to keep the Terrible Johnny off of the net but any lobs that Connors will loft airborne this day are woefully weak and from the terribly defensive positions. McEnroe pounded all of these bunnies into next week.

The video, interestingly enough, contains all of the commercials that were aired that day. It gives us further insight how the corporations have been manipulating and meddling with the subliminal messaging that are vying for our almighty consumer dollars. The message is probing for that vulnerable area in your cranium where you just roll over and beg to have your belly scratched...while they separate you from your money.

First up in the gravy train of commercials is a little teaser from Cigna...an investment or insurance conglomerate that probably was one of the banks with their hands out for the bailout money while the rest of us were going belly up in our mortgages. But in 1984, Cigna is painting a rather rosy picture with this ad as one of their lucky customers is merely lounging poolside soaking up the ultra violet rays of the sun on his soft and tubby belly, while Cigna manages his portfolio. Why worry? “No one does more to solve problems than Cigna”...the message proclaims and everyone should sleep a little better knowing that. The subliminal messages...are so sublime.

Next up is Gatorade...it’s no ordinary thirst quencher! More fun in the sun. Everything is rosy. Don't have a concern...or a clue.

The first prize for the men's championship in 1984 is 131,000 dollars. Not a huge payday compared to today's kings ransoms that they play for. John McEnroe has lost only one tennis match all year and that was in the finals of the 1984 French Championships where he had Ivan Lendl on the ropes before he imploded and handed the match to Lendl. Perhaps one of the few times where he actually did self destruct. Normally...I love to use that word when describing the behavior of Johnny Bad Boy, he did not hurt himself with his outbursts. He was a terrific competitor that didn’t like to lose and was not in the habit of giving points away...let alone matches. You see the traditional wear and tear of the turf on the center court at Wimbledon as player after player made their way to their goal of traditional grass court play...to the net. The network treats us to a shot of the court before the tourney began...the lawn is pristine.

To be continued...but you knew that didn't you?

[klacr]

1984...George Orwell

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

What provokes us to want to share our thoughts? I suppose everyone is a bit different but in the end I think it boils down to one thing. Mainly one thing. We want to be understood. Everyone wants to feel that they are understood. It’s no easy task...especially these days. Modern days. There has been a lot of social engineering that has left the human race more confused than enlightened. An ex-girlfriend of mine and I were exchanging electronically generated messages last night and we were talking about relationships. Her mother advised her that the most important thing in a relationship is to compromise. I think that if that is the most important aspect of your relationship you have made a poor choice. Her mother also said that relationships take a lot of work. I agree that it requires some work but by no means should it be hard labor. It isn’t a gulag for God’s sake. Or is it?

Well I guess that I am one of the last to ask in this regard considering my luck...my track record. But I ventured to say that compatibility and chemistry were higher up on my priorities. But above all there is another thing...and that thing is understanding. Everyone desperately wants to be understood. That isn’t always what people need most, but everyone wants that...they want understanding. Many times what people really need is a good kick in the rear end...but that is only a personal feeling of mine.

I started this thread..."Thoughts about Tennis Tradition" not so much because I wanted to be understood, as I have pretty much given up on that little scenario, but also because I feel that people need to understand. There is too much myth and too much hysteria surrounding the modern game of tennis and if you are any coach worth your salt you need to be a true student of the game. You must know and understand the history of the game. Most coaches are too young to have first hand knowledge of the classic game as it stood for nearly a century. Wood racquets and white clothes. It isn’t their fault that they are largely unaware of the changes that have transpired in the last forty years.

But here we are...in the world of “Thoughts about Tennis Tradition”. Keep in mind it is sort of a world of its own...I dreamed it up. Nobody else seems to give it much of a thought these days. Traditions. If it is in the past then it doesn’t count...it is better left alone. As in Orwell’s 1984 where society has divorced itself so far from it’s past that the present is easily manipulated by the powers that be and in Orwell’s case it was despotic governments. People are absolutely clueless about the past because it has been destroyed...purposely. In our case it just might be the corporations that have taken over our destiny. That and the computer or artificial knowledge. Have you ever heard the term “singularity”. But then again those ideas sound a bit far-fetched as well. That is, if you have nothing to compare it to. Those that are just coming of age in the year 2013 have no idea really what it was like back in 1984 so if they just accept everything that is being shoved down their pie hole, clearly they will be clueless...as to what the reality of the situation today really is.

So what is the point? Well...the point is this is just a little Tennis History 101 courtesy of don_budge. Here at the finals of the Wimbledon championships we have a situation that is sort of incongruous yet nobody wants to talk about the elephant in the living room. I am referring to the size of the racquets that the contestants are using. In 1984 John McEnroe has switched to a midsized Dunlop 200 graphite model while Jimmy Connors is still stuck in the past for reasons of his own with his antique model Wilson 2000. This is the crossroads. Tennis has veered off the course of traditional values and has embarked on a journey that is ruled by corporation and money. Read greed. The fundamental rule of tennis etiquette has been violated here...let no player seek unfair advantage over his opponent. There is a story in this match and behind this match. I am going to attempt to relate it to you...to decipher it for those who are perhaps too young to remember or for those that for reasons of their own choose to ignore the lesson. Just remember...I am only the messenger.

Beautiful Post. Thanks don_budge.

As impressive and athletic as tennis is in its modern form, it will always be richer and deeper in its traditional form. More intense flavors are evoked in my mind, like a pork shoulder being braised in herbs and its own juices all day in preparation for a dinner. As a young boy I was inspired by the Wimbledon battles of Edberg and Becker. For me, that was my awakening. For some who are on this forum, Edberg/Becker may seem to be more modern or at least not as traditional or classic as it was to me, but I'm only 30 years old so it's all relative. Those guys were my Laver's, Rosewall's, Hoad's and Emerson's. I remember staring at the TV and saying to myself...

"That's what I want to be. That's the sport I want to play, That's how I want to play"

Needless to say, the competitive swim meets I attended, although successful, took a back seat to my new sport and new love.

I'm grateful for don_budge's passion for our game, the old and new as well as every other contributor on here. I'm grateful for the evolution of tennis and all the subtleties. But I will always be grateful to the game it was. For showing me the class, the grace, the respect, the etiquette of which I still try to carry on the court to this day and pass onto my students for future generations.

Not sure if this post is in line with the others, or if it even deserves to follow up the previous post by don_budge, but I had to get that off my chest.

Carry on.

Kyle LaCroix USPTA
Boca Raton

[don_budge]

The 1984 Wimbledon finals...John McEnroe vs. Jimmy Connors

1984...George Orwell

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

What provokes us to want to share our thoughts? I suppose everyone is a bit different but in the end I think it boils down to one thing. Mainly one thing. We want to be understood. Everyone wants to feel that they are understood. It’s no easy task...especially these days. Modern days. There has been a lot of social engineering that has left the human race more confused than enlightened. An ex-girlfriend of mine and I were exchanging electronically generated messages last night and we were talking about relationships. Her mother advised her that the most important thing in a relationship is to compromise. I think that if that is the most important aspect of your relationship you have made a poor choice. Her mother also said that relationships take a lot of work. I agree that it requires some work but by no means should it be hard labor. It isn’t a gulag for God’s sake. Or is it?

Well I guess that I am one of the last to ask in this regard considering my luck...my track record. But I ventured to say that compatibility and chemistry were higher up on my priorities. But above all there is another thing...and that thing is understanding. Everyone desperately wants to be understood. That isn’t always what people need most, but everyone wants that...they want understanding. Many times what people really need is a good kick in the rear end...but that is only a personal feeling of mine.

I started this thread..."Thoughts about Tennis Tradition" not so much because I wanted to be understood, as I have pretty much given up on that little scenario, but also because I feel that people need to understand. There is too much myth and too much hysteria surrounding the modern game of tennis and if you are any coach worth your salt you need to be a true student of the game. You must know and understand the history of the game. Most coaches are too young to have first hand knowledge of the classic game as it stood for nearly a century. Wood racquets and white clothes. It isn’t their fault that they are largely unaware of the changes that have transpired in the last forty years.

But here we are...in the world of “Thoughts about Tennis Tradition”. Keep in mind it is sort of a world of its own...I dreamed it up. Nobody else seems to give it much of a thought these days. Traditions. If it is in the past then it doesn’t count...it is better left alone. As in Orwell’s 1984 where society has divorced itself so far from it’s past that the present is easily manipulated by the powers that be and in Orwell’s case it was despotic governments. People are absolutely clueless about the past because it has been destroyed...purposely. In our case it just might be the corporations that have taken over our destiny. That and the computer or artificial knowledge. Have you ever heard the term “singularity”. But then again those ideas sound a bit far-fetched as well. That is, if you have nothing to compare it to. Those that are just coming of age in the year 2013 have no idea really what it was like back in 1984 so if they just accept everything that is being shoved down their pie hole, clearly they will be clueless...as to what the reality of the situation today really is.

So what is the point? Well...the point is this is just a little Tennis History 101 courtesy of don_budge. Here at the finals of the Wimbledon championships we have a situation that is sort of incongruous yet nobody wants to talk about the elephant in the living room. I am referring to the size of the racquets that the contestants are using. In 1984 John McEnroe has switched to a midsized Dunlop 200 graphite model while Jimmy Connors is still stuck in the past for reasons of his own with his antique model Wilson 2000. This is the crossroads. Tennis has veered off the course of traditional values and has embarked on a journey that is ruled by corporation and money. Read greed. The fundamental rule of tennis etiquette has been violated here...let no player seek unfair advantage over his opponent. There is a story in this match and behind this match. I am going to attempt to relate it to you...to decipher it for those who are perhaps too young to remember or for those that for reasons of their own choose to ignore the lesson. Just remember...I am only the messenger.

[bottle]

Re # 133, "Message in a Bottle"

So long as it's not "TP in a Bottle" by Nicholas Sparks, a novelist and even movie producer who makes me go "YECCCHHHH."

But the Police version is okay. So too "MS. in a Bottle" by Edgar Allan Poe, especially at the end of the story when the main character's ship goes down in a whirlpool (caused no doubt by a fissure in the earth's crust swallowing all ocean everywhere).

[don_budge]

1984 Wimbledon...Tennis at the Crossroads. The Grey Zone.

Here is the match. A story to follow. Please be patient. Patience is a virtue...good things comes to those who wait. So they say.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Ypdrb4nIw

[don_budge]

Message in a Bottle...The Police

It can be lonely when you embark down the path of the continental gripped tennis game...go ask bottle. When he's ten feet tall.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbXWrmQW-OE

Message in a bottle...The Police

Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair

I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle
Message in a bottle
Message in a bottle, yeah

A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life
But love can break your heart

I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle
Message in a bottle

Walked out this morning
Don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles
Washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone at being alone
A hundred billion castaways
Looking for a home

I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle
Message in a bottle

[don_budge]

John McEnroe vs. Björn Borg... 1981 Wimbledon Final

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nECFscrEXfI

John McEnroe clad in Sergio Tachini with a Dunlop Maxply Fort. Björn Borg decked out in Fila with his beloved Donnay. The epitome of the evolution of the classic game of tennis. The climax of the whole shebang. Classic good guy vs. bad guy. The Iceberg Viking vs. the Volcanic American. What more could you want? Why would you "fix" this?

At times it appears that they are playing ping pong or badminton such is the artistry and the mastery of their craft. But in the end...lawn tennis at its very best. Like two great fencers wielding rapiers...probing for weaknesses and looking for the kill. Stab, parry, thrust. Each point an independent duel. On the whole...a finely woven tapestry of serving and volleying, of lobs and drop shots, of groundstroke exchanges, complete with passing shots that have a wonderful combination of touch and speed...of the likes we will never witness again. Just like the wear and tear in the grass...the path to the net. This was the last time a final at Wimbledon would be played with both players using wood racquets.

Nostalgia? No...it's something else. An appreciation for the truth of tennis as a true student of the game. Watch the continental gripped game of McEnroe dethrone the King of Lawn Tennis. I remember watching this in anticipation from the previous years final.

All of the original traditions and rituals were dutifully being observed. Even Johnny Boy was on his best behavior. He had to be...he knew somehow what was at stake. The game...and everything in it. Say what you want about him. On this day he paid proper homage to the sport of tennis.

[stotty]

Art Larsen RIP

Shame about Art Larsen. My father always talked very fondly about his tennis...and all his tap...tap...tapping. Handsome chap as well in his youth. I tried to find some clips of him but could find nothing...such as shame when players like that die and their games get lost forever...no digital age for players like Larsen. I guess you had to be there to see him at the time or you just missed out.

From what I have read and what my father told me, I would just loved to have seen Art play.

My father saw Art play and others like him such as: Kramer, Gonzales, Hoad and Rosewall. They all played at a tournament in Didsbury here in the UK.

[don_budge]

Ted Gärdestad...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zs6UFYifZ2E

För Kärlekens Skull...Ted Gärdestad

Utanför fönstret slår våren ut,
Marken blir grön igen
Allt som var dött väcks till liv
Det kan också vi, så länge vi andas

Ute till havs styr en fiskebåt
Längs en fri horisont
Den gungar så tryggt in mot hamn
Som jag i din famn så länge vi älskar

Det är för oss solen går opp
Och lyser som guld för kärlekens skull
Solen går opp så oskuldsfull
Och lyser på oss för kärlekens skull

Högt på ett berg står en katedral
Och pekar upp mot skyn
Men det är för himlen i dig
Och jorden i mig, vi älskar varandra

Det är för oss solen går opp
Och lyser som guld för kärlekens skull
Solen går opp så oskuldsfull
Och lyser på oss för kärlekens skull

Lyser som guld för kärlekens skull
Lyser på oss för kärlekens skull

There is a tennis angle for the above...För Kärlekens Skull. Ted Gärdestad was
also a very promising tennis player. In 1970 he was the second best junior tennis player in Sweden...second to one Björn Borg.

His was a tragic figure...he ended up committing suicide. Dogged by mental illness much of his later life, he ended it at the age of 41. He chose...not to be. Hamlet posed whether to be or not to be. Very, very sad. A beautiful song he left us with...testimony to his sensitive nature. Life?...it isn't fair. Is it? Come to think of it...nobody ever said it would be.

[stotty]

Moe is not for Stotty

More golf on the run...take a couple of minutes out of your busy day and listen closely to this guy. Moe Norman.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rIq1aPKi1w

Sometimes when I was watching this he reminded me of the Dennis Hopper character in "Apocalypse Now". He is quite an astounding character. He is expounding on the mental side of golf...he is quite fascinating.

I liked Dennis Hopper's film character (an outstanding part...that part was made for Hopper) far more than Moe Norman. Overcoming self-doubt and the demons in your head is something all golfers and tennis players must do - unless you're blessed with a super sized ego. I found Moe a complete sceptic and irritating after about five minutes. I felt like I was being dressed down...and I don't play golf.