Women's Tennis In The Eighties

Summertime in Ontario is glorious. Eight weeks of shorts and tees (June and September can be iffy), nary a toque in sight, finally. We Canadians - and I count myself in that group, value summer more than anyone else. It's condensed, it's hot and you can count on it. Only one year in my memory - 1990 I believe, did summer abandon Toronto. Well, July and August arrived on time but it rained every single weekend so it doesn't count. There is a lot of living packed into those eight short weeks. Whoever coined the phrase "the lazy days of summer" was not talking about T.O. When not at work, every waking minute is spent outside. There are throngs of people downtown and activities are going on in every corner of the city. Every restaurant and café has at least a postage stamp-sized patio and they are packed to the hilt with Torontonians lapping up as much sun as possible whilst sipping a few brewskies after work. People smile more.

In the eighties when I was young, carefree and had plenty of disposable income, I remember summer in terms of events: The Jazz Festival in the Beaches, brass drumbeats of Caribana , weekend camping trips up north, Blue Jay games at SkyDome, The Symphony Of Fire and the bands at Ontario Place, Sundays on Toronto Island and at the end of it all, the grand finale, The Canadian National Exhibition. I was the only nutcase I knew who spent three of those short eight weeks every year glued to a television set. It started with Wimbledon in June, then The Canadian Open in July and finally The US Open in August - All televised in their entirety courtesy of Rogers Cable. What I didn't watch live, I taped for my later viewing pleasure.

Before the eighties I had no idea about tennis. I knew of Wimbledon because I grew up in London and I'd heard of Billie Jean King, Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe - who hadn't? Aside from that I knew nothing. I'd never played nor watched a tennis match. It wasn't until I was invited to a brunch party for the opening of Wimbledon in 1981 and everyone present was abuzz about the new super star Martina Navratilova that I paid any attention. My obsession with women's tennis began that day when Martina walked onto Centre Court and ended the day she finished her singles career and walked off for the last time in 1991. I cried that day. Heck, I even got teary-eyed when Steffi Graf quit and I didn't even like her. I've forgotten why. Oh yes, she could beat Martina.

In 1982 I had the sublime pleasure of driving up to York University to watch the Canadian Open in person for the first time. Actually, I think it was the Players Open back then. My partner had bought me a top of the line Pentax camera just for the occasion and three days of tickets with decent seats. I will never forget the experience. It was such a cool thing to be able to do. They have a top notch tennis centre at York and the women's and men's tours alternate between Montreal and Toronto every year. That year I was able to watch Martina play against Hana Manlikova and Chris Evert against Andrea Jaeger if memory serves. I was so busy taking photographs that I didn't see much of what was happening on court. I went to the Canadian Open a total of five times and watched most of the top players at one time or another, although I never saw Steffi play in person.

Back in the day Martina's serve and volley game was a joy to behold. There was no one on the women's tour who played like her. Most players were baseliners and didn't like coming to net including Chris Evert who was her only real rival at the time. Jana Novotna was the only other serve and volleyer I can recall. Martina would serve and then rush up to the net for the return and pop the final shot into her opponent's court and the point would be over. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. It was like watching a well choreographed dance or maybe a lioness slaughtering a gazelle. You ended up feeling sorry for the victim but oh well, life goes on. It was beautiful to watch and my only complaint is that it rarely lasted very long. Forty five minute matches were not uncommon. You hardly ever got to see a third set especially in the early rounds. Hardly anyone could beat her in those years except Chris. I was her biggest fan. Who else on earth would schedule dental surgery around a tennis tournament? In 1991 I needed a couple of impacted wisdom teeth removed so I scheduled my surgery for the Monday of the second week of the US Open knowing full well I'd be off work all week. I spent the entire week on the sofa buzzed out on pain killers watching tennis. It was pure bliss and no pain at all. I think that was the year I sent Martina a telegram at Flushing Meadows congratulating her on her semi-final win against Zina Garrison and wishing her the best of luck in the final with Ms Graf. How bizarre. I can only think it must have been the drugs.

I became an armchair tennis pro in the eighties and followed the players' careers avidly. I always knew their rankings and read everything I could about the women on the tour in the media - remember this was before the internet, so there wasn't a whole lot to read. During televised games the commentators would let tidbits drop about one player or another so you could pick up some personal information but not a whole lot. I knew for instance that Martina's girlfriend at the time was author Rita Mae Brown, so of course I read all her books. What can I say?

Mary Carillo and Bud Collins were the top women's commentators in those years. Mary used to be on the tour herself and won the mixed tennis doubles with Mr. McEnroe in 1977 at The French Open. She was incredibly knowledgeable about the game and the games of the players. She wasn't annoying to listen to and didn't talk nonstop through a point. She taught me the finer points of the game and explained what was going on when it wasn't obvious. Some of the players tried their hands at commentating and the results were mixed. Tracy Austin was a chatterbox and drove me nuts. Martina was so hard on the players and patronizing to the point of making me wince. Chris Evert wasn't too bad at all but she only did it for a minute - not her cup of tea I gather. John McEnroe turned out to be a surprisingly good commentator. He was such a hothead on the court but rational and thoughtful in the box. He has a dry sense of humour too.

I became familiar with some of the on-court quirks and mannerisms of the players and you could see their personalities come out during matches. Monika Seles was the first grunter. At the time everyone was talking about it. Nowadays they all do it. She sounded like she was yelling out her French boyfriend's name - Henri! It was hilarious. Then there was the Sabatweenie. Gabriela more than a few times won key points by hitting a seemingly hopeless shot between her legs, hence the name coined by Mary Carillo. Mary Pierce was one cool character. She was so young and ranked number seven in the world at the time, I believe, in spite of her raving lunatic of a father who was forever embarrassing her in the stands while she was playing. Chris Evert was eloquent and charming, the grand dame of them all. She was pure class on and off the court. Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario always had a smile on her face and an entourage of fans with her who painted their faces the colours of the Spanish flag and were uncharacteristically loud for tennis fans. Great fun! Over the years I felt as if I got to know them all just a little. Unlike today, in those days it was a tight bunch with not a whole lot of depth in the playing field. The only newer and younger super players that I remember were Jennifer Capriati, Martina Hingis and the aforementioned Monika Seles who also beat Martina. Grrr.

I loved watching the women play but I certainly watched men's tennis too. I had my favorites and the ones I loved to hate. I always felt a bit sad for my favorite, Ivan Lendl. He always looked a bit lost - like he needed a hug. He was a great player except for that monkey on his back - for a while he would win everything but couldn't get the US Open under his belt. That changed in 1985 and then he won it for the next two years. The Pete Sampras serve was so good it annoyed me. He should have been playing in a different league on a different planet and give someone on earth a shot at a title. I loved watching André Agassi play. Not only was he so different from the pack, but if the match went five sets my money was on him, especially in a tiebreaker. Plus he had the best return of serve in game and could beat Pete once in a while. Michael Chang was a cool dude who never gave up. I mean, never! I have watched him cramped beyond belief and throwing up on the court and win the match - or was that Pete Sampras? I forget. I never really took to Boris Becker. He just always seemed a little bit above it all and acted as if he could not care less. He has enough fans though and certainly didn't need me.

Martina's outstanding tennis records are there for anyone to see online - 20 Wimbledon titles were the least. She was a phenomenal tennis player and redefined the word athlete in women's tennis. She captured my attention for a decade or more and I have much respect for the woman. Just last month she and Chris got together (along with Monica Seles, Jennifer Capriati and Gabriela Sabatini) for an exhibition match in Singapore. Rock on women. You gals were, and are, the greatest ever for this armchair tennis fan.