(3 of 3)
by tactical authority and mature, practiced
perfection in backcourt stroking, he would surely do it. Immaculate
and chipper, Perry dashed off the first set, 6-3. The crowd applauded
and waited for Crawford to warm up. Playing on his baseline instead of
behind it, gaining invaluable split seconds by taking Perry's shots
just before the top of the bounce, stinging his steady backhanders
into Perry's farthest corner, Crawford worked along sedately in the
second set while his opponent's tension mounted with the score. At
11-all, Perry made a double fault that unraveled his nerves long enough
for Crawford to break through on the next point, then win the set on
his own serve. A long second set is most valuable to win. At 4-all and
30-40 in the third, Perry watched an easy lob drop, decided it was out,
turned to hear the linesman call it good. A few moments later, Crawford
had the set. With judicial composure he strolled to the marquee where
his plump wife was smiling, chatted for ten minutes, while Perry went
to change his flannels for ducks that would flap less in the wind. With
a crowd to watch him, Perry, like Borotra, gives an impression of being
debonair, lighthearted, only incidentally concerned with winning. In
reality, even more than most crack players, he is deadly serious about
tennis. Determined to win one important championship in 1933, he had
trained a whole year for last week's final. Crawford, despite his
sturdy appearance, was last week suffering from the poor condition
which has been widespread among top tennis players in 1933. He had had
too much championship tennis. He was too nervous to sleep before the
semi-finals : he suffered from night sweats, a twisted knee and
palpitations of the heart. After the rest, during which Crawford
admitted to his doctor that he felt dizzy. Perry ran out on the court
apparently fresher than when the match began. He ran off three games,
his flat drives equaling anyone's for speed. Crawford let him blaze
out the set at love. In the last set, Crawford's gesture of patting his
chest as though his heart or his lungs hurt him, became more
noticeable. He managed to break through Perry's serve in the third game
and then suddenly the deliberate manner that had seemed to indicate a
carefully controlled supply of reserve energy became an expression of
utter fatigue. Perry, dancing around the court, barely able to wait for
the ball-boys to furnish ammunition for his serve, smashed through four
more games for set, match and title—the first an English player has
won in the U. S. since Hugh Lawrence Doherty, 30 years ago.
