Word: borotra
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...shapely hands were folded in her lap, her pale eyes looked politely down at the green square of turf whereon the person she awaited would shortly appear. "Shortly," officials assured her, bending anxiously over the back of the Royal Box; "á l´instant," said agitated Jean Borotra, hurrying up to explain. The Queen waited, the crowd waited, the green square of turf waited -but Suzanne Lenglen did not come...
...France, beat Vincent Richards in five sets, just as he did in Paris three weeks ago, adding new force to the prophesy that France will win the Davis cup this year. Nobody cared. They wanted to see Mlle. Lenglen, actually applauded her when she strolled off the court with Borotra after having defeated a young Englishman and his lady. Borotra told the press that rheumatism in Mlle. Lenglen's neck and shoulders kept her from sleeping. "She is very ill ... she cries all the time . . . her mother cannot pacify her. . . ." Miss Ryan, too, fell ill, cancelled her matches. Nobody...
...tennis costume on a brilliantly illuminated court surrounded by a crowd. There, for three hours, pausing sometimes to wipe honest sweat and perhaps a few remaining traces of grease paint from his face, he labored to vanquish with sizzling drive and cannonading serve, a bounding little Basque called Jean Borotra. Eventually he did so, 6-4, 8-10, 11-13, 6-1, 6-3, thus atoning somewhat for the drubbing Borotra had given him a week before in the national indoor championship (TIME, March 1). The crowd loudly announced its pleasure at this denoument which won, by three matches...
...gallant defense, an American champion, U. S. tennis-followers smiled softly over their lemonades, ginger ales and ice waters when they thought of the debacle that awaited the colors of France in the national indoor tournament about to be played in the Seventh Regiment Armory, Manhattan. Leaping Jean Borotra, heavy-lidded Réné LaCoste, and brisk Jaques Brugnon, nicknamed by an unoriginal pressman "The Three Musketeers," would face, if they came through the early rounds, William T. Tilden, Vincent Richards and Francis T. Hunter. Optimism could accord these foreign swashbucklers a chance for gallantry but not for triumph...
Tilden v. Borotra. Tilden's gaunt features were sharp as a woodcut. Clearly he was out to avenge Richards' defeat. "Play," called the umpire. Borotra pulled on his little "Blue Devil" cap and ran to the baseline. Then he ran to the net. Then he ran to the baseline. He was everywhere at once, returning the champion's perfect lobs, the champion's fierce drives, the champion's terrific smashes and cannonball serves with incredible accuracy and pace. The first set went to deuce, dragged on and on. The gallery smiled. Tilden knew what...