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frilly pink motif, TV set for watching soap operas, shoebox filled with eye makeup, copies of Seventeen magazine.
Between tournaments, Jimmy Evert requires Chrissie to put in at least four hours of practice every day. His instruction is so painstaking that he gives the girls new balls at about the same time they would get them in a match, thus preventing any bad habits that might develop from hitting dead ones. The sessions are serious. The moment the younger Evert gets the least bit sloppy, her older sister will reprimand her with a sharp, "Oh, Jeanne!"
Of late, though, whenever her oth er practice partner begins acting up, Chrissie gives out a girlish squeal, "Oh, Jimmeee!" He is Jimmy Connors, 20, the hottest young U.S. player on the men's pro circuit. They met over a Coke at Wimbledon last year, and it has been a steady match ever since. Though their practice sessions invariably attract a fenceful of admiring fans, they some times end their workouts with some un abashed on-court smooching. An evening date usually consists of a movie and a McDonald's cheeseburger. Recently Chrissie won a major concession from her strict parents: her 11 p.m. cur few was moved back to midnight.
To hear Chrissie tell it, she will not have to sacrifice her personal life for too long. She insists that she intends to quit the pro game in three to five years, get married and have two to four chil dren. "Too long a tennis career can ruin a girl and harden her," she says. "Ten nis isn't the most important thing in my life. It's so materialistic. Marriage and family are more important, and so is religion — and love. I'd rather be known for being a girl than for being a tennis player."