The Bud Collins History of Tennis

An Authoritative Encyclopedia and Record Book

New Chapter Press

Contents

Roots of the Game

Why is that net in the way?

Although merely three-feet in height, it seems at times like the Great Wall of China or the Green Monster (the left field barrier at Boston's Fenway Park) to somebody desperately trying to hit a tennis ball over it — a wailing wall to the frustrated competitor.

Why? We can't say for sure when or where, but it has been an obstruction for eons, installed as the court centerpiece by someone who probably thought a net added a spicy challenge to those gamely knocking a ball back and forth. That's tennis, a pastime for the ages. Either the ball goes over that bloody net ... or it doesn't. It had to start somewhere, well before a couple of gents named Gore and Marshall dueled at 25 paces or so on a strip of greensward, batting rubber balls at each other during a London summer afternoon in 1877. That occasion, Spencer Gore carrying the day, was the final of the introductory Wimbledon, recognized as the first tennis tournament. At least the original lawn tennis tournament.

But was it? Sort of. Yes and no.

Yes: It was a public launching of the present-day game with which we're familiar, having played it, seen it in person or on TV, and read about it — a convenient starting date for the innumerable tournaments that since have been played.

No: Tennis, as a game, pre-dates by centuries its patenting by an Englishman in 1874, and the unveiling of his version at Wimbledon three years later. That's the game we know, and what this book is about. But it's the offspring of an ancient sire.

Where does today's game come from? Surely, but mysteriously, from much deeper in history, a descen dant of an old sport which evolved, was refined and continues to exist on its own as a separate pastime — played indoors in curiously conformed, concrete-walled courts — known variously as real tennis, royal tennis or court tennis. That game, sequestered in a few private clubs in the United Kingdom, United States, Australia and Continental Europe, dates back to 12th-century France. Or Italy? Or Spain?

Most likely tennis sprang — bounded? — from monastery cloisters in which off-duty monks were channeling their testosterone into batting a ball to and fro, and off the walls. First with their hands — jeu de paume. Eventually with rackets that appeared in the 16th century, possibly first in Italy, called rachette, to play a game called gioco di rachette.

Its precise origins remain shrouded in conjecture, contrasting notions and theories, and lack of documentation despite the diligent delving of historians

Even the mystery of the name — tennis — and the scoring terms, passed down from real tennis to our game (properly named lawn tennis because it began and prospered on grass) are unsolved. Nevertheless, the good brothers were onto something too good to keep clois tered in their backyards. It spread to commoners in out door courts as well as kings with their personal sanctums, evidence of which can be seen in European paintings of long, long ago. At one medieval time, a saying had it: "There are more tennis players in France than drunkards in England."

Terms of engagement? Love? Can you take seriously anything in which love means nothing? Maybe it derives from the French, I'oeuf: the old goose or duck egg. However, Heiner Gillmeister in his fascinating tome, Tennis: A Cultural History, puts forth a vote for the word lof. Gillmeister says it is, "the Dutch or Flemish equivalent of English 'honor.' It looks as if the English expression for a player's failure to score owes its existence to an expression used in the Low Countries, omme lof spellen — 'to play for the honor.'"

The expression 'bagel' for zero would come much later, quite possibly from the lips of Eddie Dibbs, a leading American player during the 1970s and early '80s.

The quartered face of a clock seems the likely source of the game and point scores — 15, 30 — but why 40 instead of the original 45? Was it a cuckoo clock? It was probably shortened over time, an abbreviation like 5 instead of 15, common among hackers. Nobody really knows. Deuce is the clearest, from the French a deux.

'Tennis' itself? There are many theories which American historian George Alexander discusses, and have appeared elsewhere before, but not conclusively. George has his own idea, on 'tens' from the German, different from all the rest, as will be seen.

Lawn tennis reached an early high point of American national prestige during the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt (1901-09), who formed a "tennis cabinet." He ordered the White House's first court, clay, built on a site now occupied by the Oval Office. The players, headed by the vigorous president, were drawn from the younger administrators of, or just below, cabinet rank, and from foreign diplomats, led by the French ambassador,

J. J. Jusserand. He was small, wiry and quick, and often a match for "Teddy" himself, the charging hero of San Juan Hill.

The ambassador was a serious player of both real tennis and lawn tennis and a student of the history of those games. Among the studies he undertook was the derivation of the English word 'tennis.' His was not the first search for the origin of the word, nor the last. Then, as now, the usual explanation was that "tennis" was derived from the French tendere meaning "to hold.'" Etymologists rationalized that the server called out tendere as a warning to his opponent just prior to serving. At first glance, this has an authentic ring, for it carries the approval of scholars of repute. The problem was that it did not make sense to Jusserand.

Jusserand made an extensive study of old French literature and he found much shouting by players — mostly profane — but no one ever seemed to have called out tendere or anything like it. Several studies on the subject made before and since the French ambassador have come to the same findings.

In 1878, Julian Marshall, in his monumental Annals of Tennis, addresses the matter, and he lists 10 spellings of tennis through the years. But he leaves the decision as to the origin of the word "tennis" to others, finding no answer that satisfied him.

In Bailey's magazine of August, 1918, C. E. Thomas offered a slightly more logical explanation. According to him, the derivation is from the French tenez, meaning "take it." Again a call of warning from the server. No one has come forth with evidence of such ever being done, let alone ever having been the custom.

Tennis Origins and Mysteries, by Malcolm Whitman, one of the pioneer Davis Cuppers, and U.S. champion (1898-1900), devotes a chapter to the subject and covers most of the theories that have been put forth through the years by tennis players with an interest in etymology. Most of these theories have a common root in French words that have "ten" as the start of words meaning, variously, "hold," "taut," "tense," "tendon," and several other similar words.

Two towns, widely separated, one on the Nile River in Egypt, the other in Northern France, having "Tennis" as their name, are thought to be possible origins of the name. Tennis in France was known for its lace; Tennis in Egypt for its fine long staple cotton. Since balls were often cloth bound (never in the 15th century), some have thought that was connection enough.

Alexander offers a more logical explanation. First, why was a new name for the game necessary when it came to England (some evidence indicates it came earlier to Scotland)? The French name then and now is jeu de paume (hand ball). By the time it reached the British Isles (the date not known with certainty), implements such as battledores, forerunners of rackets, were replacing the hand. Some of the French was retained, such as "deuce" and perhaps "love," so no strong aversion to French words existed. This new pastime needed a name to differentiate the game of playing across a net from those played against a wall.

The root stem of "tens" has given us many words including those such as tendere, which is the often-listed parent of "tennis." One of the meanings of "tens" is the "weaver's shuttle" and other back-and-forth motions. Whitman had previously come across this, but he chose not to pursue it and he dropped it short of the shuttle meaning.

The naming of the game with a descriptive word is more logical than one requiring a tortured explanation. The logic of naming the game after some "shout" or ball material would have us call golf "fore" and the games of football "pigskin" and baseball "horsehide." The to-and-fro motion further lent its name to the missile that we know as the shuttlecock in badminton.

While the explanation may satisfy a few, more evidence is needed to support the theory, even though none has been offered to support the usually accepted tendere. It is like the unauthenticated, largely wishful, story of Mary Outerbridge introducing the game to the U.S.: once in place and repeated a few times, it takes on the position of presumed fact. But this is part of the intrigue of tennis.

Although the beginnings of tennis and many other sports and games are unknown and lost in the distant past, the history of modern (lawn) tennis is clearly doc umented. Its arrival was publicly announced on March 7, 1874, in two papers, the Court Journal, read by almost all of the British upper class as well as those who aspired to join, and the Army & Navy Gazette, read by the military, which was stationed worldwide — for them the sun truly never set on the vast British Empire.

These notices appeared after the British patent office issued to Major Walter Wingfield provisional letters of patent (No. 685) for "A Portable Court of Playing Tennis," dated Feb. 23, 1874. English-speaking sportsmen around the world who read The Field of March 21, 1874 were informed in detail of the new game, for it reproduced much of the information about the Major's game of lawn tennis. It contained a short history of tennis, instruction and notes for the "erection of the court," and the six rules of the game.

The game was an immediate success and spread throughout Great Britain and Ireland in a matter of weeks and around the English-speaking world soon thereafter. The equipment to play was sold by the inventor's agents, Messrs. French and Co., 46, Churton Street, London, S.W The price: Five guineas.

Sales literature noted that "the game is in a painted box, 36 x 12 x 6 inches and contains poles, pegs, and netting for forming the court, 4 tennis bats, by Jeffries and Mailings, a bag of balls, mallet, and brush and the instructive The Book of the Game."

The daily sales book for almost a year, July 6, 1874 to June 25, 1875, notes on July 15, 1874 that Major Rowan Hamilton settled his account for tennis sets he purchased in May "for Canada." Sets were bought for India and China. Sets were sold to Russia's royalty and to, of course, the Prince of Wales and many others, including 42 Lords, 44 Ladies and members of Parliament, among them agriculturist Ward Hunt, First Lord of the Admiralty, renowned for his girth which caused a semicircle to be cut from the Admiralty board table.

The records of French and Co. are not the complete list, for many sales went to unnamed parties and whole sale business was done with London retailers and, as so often happens, competing sets were soon on the market despite patent protection.

There were several reasons for this great and wide spread success. There was a need for a game that afforded vigorous exercise for both sexes and all ages. That was how Wingfield described his new game. Croquet had been the fad during the 1860s and it inspired the construction of many well-rolled, level courts with close-clipped grass, made possible due to the invention of the lawn mower by Englishman Edwin Budding earlier in the century. The least standard croquet court measured 30 yards by 20 yards. Such courts were ubiquitous and were ready-made for lawn tennis, and "The ground need not even be turf; the only condition is that it must be level."

This was not exactly today's marvelous game, for it was quite simple. It used the scoring of 1, 2, 3, etc. of the game of rackets, but it bore the more refined name "ten nis" rather than "rackets," which was associated with tav erns and prisons. The game could also be played without buying the set, for items were sold separately. Rackets were 15 shillings, balls were five shillings a dozen, and The Book of the Game was six pence. People with rackets of other sports could easily try out the new game.

Wingfield learned, as have most inventors, to their dismay, that rather than receiving the thanks of grateful sportsmen, he was belittled. "Anyone could have invented his game," said numerous skeptics. Others came forth with claims for earlier games. Inventions almost always are based on other inventions, and (lawn) tennis obviously was based on (real/royal/court) tennis. This was acknowledged by Wingfield, as even the title of his patent and the game indicate. The major got anoth er boost 14 years after the fact from another inventor, who also left his name to posterity but didn't profit from it. That was Charles Goodyear, who vulcanized rubber in 1860, leading to the bouncing ball, an innovation seized on by Germans to manufacture thin-walled balls. Wingfield's balls came from Germany.

Outdoor racket, ball and net play goes back to the time of Queen Elizabeth I. Earlier in England and France, a game called long tennis (longue paume) was played, and it is still played in France. Other similar games, at best neighborhood games, were without formal rules and they never traveled, soon dying out. The name Harry Gem is associated with such a game. He wrote in The Field of Nov. 28, 1874: "He (J.B. Perera) first introduced the game fifteen years ago, and it recently has received the name of Pelota ..." After (lawn) tennis arrived, Gem wrote rules for "Pelota," which he sent to The Field and to his club, the Leamington Club, which added "Lawn Tennis" to its name.

Wingfield wrote to Gem in the fall of 1874 that he had worked on the game for a year and a half. After Wingfield's death, an acquaintance wrote that Wingfield's thoughts of a game went back to his service in India. He wrote in The Book of the Game that the game was "tested practically at several country houses during the past few months."

Since all five editions of the book are "dedicated to the party assembled at Nantclwyd [in Wales] in December 1873," it has been assumed that was where it was introduced. But there is no evidence of that. The party was a housewarming given by the new owner of the estate Nantclwyd, Major Naylor-Leyland, for his friends in the area. It featured the presentation of two plays and a grand ball. The three-day affair was covered in detail by the Wrexham Guardian and makes no mention of lawn tennis or any athletic activity. Wingfield, his host and hostess and a great beauty of the day, Patsy Cornwallis-West, performed in the plays.

It would be reasonable that Onslow Hall, the main estate of his branch of the family, would be one of the test sites. It is more likely a test site than Wingfield's own Rhysnant Hall, which was at that time leased. The one country house that has a written record as a test site is Earnshill in Somerset. In May 1881, Wingfield's first cousin, R. T. Combe of Earnshill, wrote to the Daily Telegraph, "It is now some seven or eight years since Major Wingfield first put up a lawn tennis court here." Several other places have been put forth as being sites of early play but confirming evidence is lacking. The first public exhibition occurred the Saturday following The Field announcement of May 4, 1874, which read in part, "It (lawn tennis) may be seen and played next week, on and after the opening of the Princes Cricket Ground, and also at the Polo Club, Lillie-bridge."

In the Whitehall Review (Nov. 14, 1896), Wingfield's good friend, Clement Scott, wrote in his column, "Wheel of Life," that the exhibition was in 1869. Such is an example of how fallible the human memory is and how important "the palest ink" is to true history The closing of the Haymarket court tennis courts and the outdoor racket courts at taverns in several neighborhoods undoubtedly caused Wingfield to bring forth the new game.

Besides private homes with croquet lawns becoming places to play tennis, it immediately became a game played at public parks and other common lawns and the great clubs. Among the London clubs to take up the sport quickly were M.C.C. — The Marylebone Cricket Club (Lords) — Hurlingham Club and Princes Club, as well as many others throughout the land. A club that waited until 1875 to accept a rival sport was the then five-year-old All England Croquet Club, located off Worple Road in the London suburb, Wimbledon.