Sport: That Gibson Girl

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Trapped on a swarming sector of Long Island where the backwash of Suburbia blurs into the edge of New York City, the West Side Tennis Club at Forest Hills is a green refuge from the crowded reality about it. Outside its high fences, the Long Island Rail Road rattles on its rounds and ordinary citizens endure the twice-daily war of commuting. Inside the club, the polite plunk of tennis balls, the whisper of sneakers on trim grass courts, the tinkle of ice in frost-beaded glasses still recall the long-gone white-flannel age of...

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