Net gains plentiful for top women
Remember when someone you’d heard of routinely won the women’s singles title at Wimbledon?
They didn’t have to be from America, though it helped. Martina Navratilova certainly wasn’t but who can forget her epic Centre Court battles with Chris Evert, who was, as they say, “one of us.”
It was said that Christine Marie Evert had such a pristine image that she could sew some wild oats and no one would care. What will be remembered, despite not having the cannon serve so helpful at Wimbledon, she won the world’s premier grass tournament three times. Navratilova, her main rival in every way, finally learned to beat Evert, it was said, when her support group (basketball star Nancy Lieberman Cline among them), got her to view Chrissie as a mortal enemy. Whatever, it made for some riveting tennis.
Billie Jean King preceded both, hoisting both tennis’ banner and that of women’s liberation to new heights. Perhaps you remember when she was demure Billie Jean Moffitt, whose younger brother, Randy, pitched for three major-league teams.
Though her personal life took a hit when a female romantic partner was unearthed, she left tennis in better shape than she found it. Her battle of the sexes with Bobby Riggs, the chauvinistic past Wimbledon men’s champion, commanded the nation’s sports headlines for a stretch in 1973, and Howard Cosell anchored ABC’s coverage on a September night at the Astrodome, King triumphant. Elton John, about to conquer rock ‘n roll, dedicated No. 1 single “Philadelphia Freedom” to King’s labors with a professional league.
Like it or not, she was forever rushing the net off court, doing more for women’s sports on a rainy Monday than such as Megan Rapinoe and Brittany Griner. (That said, free Brittany Griner.)
The women’s tour later was occupied by a series of lookalikes. Who remembers the defining features of Tracy Austin, Pam Shriver (last seen doing TV commentary at Wimbledon) and Mary Joe Fernandez? Peanut Louie, if I recall correctly, had a moment or two on stage. Gabriela Sabatini walked that particular runway a little longer as did Evonne Goolagong.
Then came a European invasion led by Steffi Graf, Monica Seles and Martina Hingis.
Graf, she of a nuclear forehand, was famous before and after she wed male tennis star Andre Agassi (a marriage I never gave a chance has lasted since 2001, Steffi now 53 and with two children).She was ranked No. 1 for a record 377 weeks and won 22 major singles titles, second-most since the start of the Open Era in 1968 and third-most of all-time. She is the only tennis player, whether male or female, to win each major tournament four times. No less an authority than King called Graf “definitely the greatest women’s player of all time.”
Graf won 65 of 67 matches with a virtual asterisk beside her name after Seles was stabbed between the shoulder blades in the quarterfinals of a 1993 tournament in Hamburg. Steffi began to break down physically and off the court was affected by the financial problems of her father and financial manager, Peter Graf serving 25 months of a 45-month sentence; Steffi herself paid
a fine of 1.3 million Deutsche Marks to the government and an unspecified charity when accused by German authorities of tax evasion.
Hingis had the game and the looks but lacked the class off court to be remembered for posterity.
At least all of the above (with the exception of Peanut Louie) stood out on the shelf, brand names in their sport and exposed to the lifestyle that makes and breaks champions alternately.
Zina Garrison and Andrea Jaeger also made some headlines, as did Anna Kournikova and Caroline Wozniacki, even if, as Frank Sinatra might say, too few to mention.
That is a nice way of saying, I guess, that no strong feelings were evoked
Saturday when Elena Rybakina defeated Ons Jabeur in the Wimbledon final, the winner, from Kazakhstan, quoted at 100-1 odds before the tournament. Ask me in a month and I might have to look it up.
In a year that an 80-1 shot won the Kentucky Derby, Rybakina fits neatly in a pantheon of sudden stars. Perhaps there’s time yet for Peanut Louie.