Puffing on his pipe, Tennistar Ted Schroeder turned a lazy eye on the grim and determined young men swatting tennis balls at each other on Forest Hills' geometrical array of grass courts. "Look at those guys," he said, nodding at his fellow competitors in the National Singles. "In another day they'll be so choked up with tension they won't be able to breathe. No more of that for me. There's no pressure on me, none at all."
It sounded strange coming from Schroeder, a high-strung will-to-winner who frequently ate 4 a.m. breakfasts because he...
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