Not for the Pros

There was no Tilden, no Budge, no Perry, no Vines on the courts at Forest Hills last week--biggest week of the tennis year. There was one big fellow that the professional tennis promoters wanted --if he won the national singles title. That was Frank Kovacs.

Kovacs' specialty, like Tilden's, is making hard shots look easy. But unlike Tilden, he sometimes makes easy ones look hard. He used to do a lot of clowning on the courts, but this year he has been serious most of the time. Despite that, and despite his considerable natural ability, last week Kovacs did not win the singles.

There was no Molla Mallory, no Suzanne Lenglen, no Alice Marble, no Helen Wills among the women either. Helen Jacobs, the nearest thing to one, was tired. Little Sarah Palfrey Fabyan ("Twinkletoes") Cooke ran over Jacobs in the semifinal, 6-3, 2-6, 6-1. Then good-looking Mrs. Cooke tangled with good-looking Pauline Betz in the final. Result: first championship for Twinkletoes in a good many years of trying, 7-5, 6-2. At 28, she is the oldest first-time winner of the Forest Hills singles.

A young man who will probably be champion in some not too distant year and then a pro if he so chooses, is Ted Schroeder. Only 20 and lacking experience, Schroeder is the best volleyer and smasher in the amateur game, and therefore better at doubles than at singles. He holds the national doubles championship with Jack Kramer. At Sea Bright, main warm-up for Forest Hills, he was good enough in singles to get as far as the final, and it took Bobby Riggs to beat him. Last week cool Mr. Riggs beat him again, this time in a semifinal. That match had the sideline spectators' heads wagging--the shot that always gets a laugh in the newsreels--with almost parade-ground precision.

Don McNeill, last year's champion, has played very badly this year. Nobody knows what is the matter with his game, least of all McNeill. His shots simply don't go where he wants them to. Last week Kovacs, enjoying one of his brilliant days, took McNeill in straight sets.

Everybody knows what is right about Bobby Riggs's game. He plays tennis like a professional blackjack dealer. He doesn't hit hard, but he thinks hard and fast. And he has control like an expert rifleman. In the final, Powerhouse Kovacs was too much for Riggs in the first set, 7-5. Then temperamental Mr. Kovacs' game blew up. He looked as though he preferred to be almost anywhere but on a tennis court. Riggs easily dealt him out of the next three sets, 6-1, 6-3, 6-3, and so got another national championship to match the one he won in 1939.

About the only clowning Frank Kovacs has permitted himself this year is to develop a "cosmic" forehand. Last week a spectator was heard to remark that Bobby Riggs knew how to take the "s" out of "cosmic."

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