Sport: War: 30-Newport: Love

The grandstand is bare. Its green & white striped roof is streaked and mottled. The gaudy umbrellas are folded and locked away. Inside the arched entrance of Newport's famed Casino, newly installed racks hold a few bicycles, and a sign reads: "Officers Club. For members only." From one or two of the ten still playable courts comes the subdued pock of a quiet game. Ten other courts are overrun by rank grass. Old Tom Pettitt, the Superintendent of Tennis, straw hat on head, still sits on the clubhouse porch. The deserted Championship Court is...