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- <text id=91TT1941>
- <title>
- Sep. 02, 1991: Balls and Brats
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
- Sep. 02, 1991 The Russian Revolution
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- BOOKS, Page 69
- Balls and Brats
- </hdr><body>
- <p>By John Skow
- </p>
- <qt>
- <l>HARD COURTS</l>
- <l>By John Feinstein</l>
- <l>Villard; 457 pages; $22.50</l>
- </qt>
- <p> Baseball isn't really for strong, quick fellows who can
- bat .296; it is for skinny nonathletes who can memorize
- earned-run averages. Football is for Republicans. But what
- character flaw is fed by watching tennis six hours a day for two
- weeks when the French Open, Wimbledon or the U.S. Open is on the
- tube?
- </p>
- <p> That's the sort of question a certified tennis nut asks
- himself halfway through Hard Courts, John Feinstein's long and
- relentless examination of the men's and women's pro-tennis
- tours. If the game's mood is as brackish and the players are as
- egomaniacal as this guy says, what am I doing here? It's a
- grouchy, spoilsport question, whose answer probably is that
- tennis watching is for those of us who always wanted to throw
- our oatmeal on the floor when we were little but were afraid the
- referee would default us.
- </p>
- <p> Yes, the tennis pros of both sexes are petulant, greedy
- children. Yes, their agents, management execs, tournament
- directors and manufacturers' reps have the fresh, openhearted
- appeal of plant lice. No doubt Andre Agassi's extensive
- entourage is as pompous and absurd as Feinstein says, and
- somehow it is not startling to hear that the parents of young
- French Open winner Michael Chang are widely unloved. But there's
- more to world-class tennis than posturers and connivers, and
- Feinstein, who covered tennis for the recently defunct sports
- daily, the National, misses the the joy of the game almost
- completely.
- </p>
- <p> He does not seem to feel the marvelous rightness when two
- players extend each other beyond the edge of what is possible.
- He does not report the gritty stretches when character rules the
- game's flow and the flow ruthlessly illuminates character. Bud
- Collins gave us such narration in his wonderfully lighthearted
- 1989 memoir, My Life with the Pros, and John McPhee wrote the
- classic tennis portraits (of Clark Graebner and Arthur Ashe) in
- Levels of the Game. Feinstein had the opportunity to write a
- book that would stand with these, but he is flat where he should
- be funny, and unevocative where he should sketch scenes.
- </p>
- <p> Tennis players are on intensive view for longer periods
- than any other athletes, which is why they hide their heads
- under towels at changeovers. But Feinstein does not give us that
- view. He does not show Lendl or Becker or Navratilova moving on
- a court. A single exception illustrates what is missing. Jimmy
- Connors, Feinstein says, was playing singles in the early
- stages of a tournament, and another match was under way on the
- adjoining court. Connors went wide for a ball, slugged a winner,
- was carried into the next court by his momentum, saw a ball from
- the other match coming at him, and hit that for a winner too.
- That's Connors, the scrappy genius, twice as competitive as
- anyone else. But if you want to know why John McEnroe and Steffi
- Graf matter, and not just how spoiled and rich they are, you
- won't learn it here.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
-
-