Word: lenglen
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...present at the Lenglen-Wills match at Cannes, but was close to the players in all of the New York matches referred to and know whereof I speak. I am reliably informed that Miss Wills was never within a point of winning the second set, nor did I see any of the American papers claiming that she "had been cheated out of the match by the stupidity of an Englishman." Cyril Tolley was close to the line, in the best position to judge the ball in the disputed incident which occurred in the eighth game with the score...
...Suzanne Lenglen, with a shaking hand, tilted to her lips a long amber glass. The touch of her hand frosted the glass, for she was very hot; only a mad woman would imbibe iced liquors at such a time?a mad woman, or a French woman. Onetime King Manuel of Portugal, Grand Duke Michael of Russia, ex-King George of Greece, the Rajah of Pudukkottia, watched the amber glass tilt up and up; the linesmen, the umpires and 4,000 of the smartest women and the richest men in Europe counted her rapid swallows. Nine, ten, eleven. . . The glass...
...third game of the second set of their match at Cannes?a match which has been given as much publicity as the conference of Locarno?had just ended. Miss Wills led, 3-0. Mile. Lenglen had won the first set, 6-3. Both had been, at the beginning, too nervous to play well and too wary to divert with any spectacular activities the people who since eight in the morning had poured into Cannes along the highroad from Nice and Monte Carlo. Helen Wills seemed to be thinking too much. Suzanne Lenglen's nerves were twittering. Regal in pink silks...
...cells took up the liquor, courage spouted through her veins, empurpled her falcon-face. Once more her skirt began to kiss her knee from above. Once more she leapt in air?Lenglen of the rotogravure sections, idol of a nation. The girl in the cotton dress left the net for the baseline. With a cat-cunning step that seemed a little weary, a little slow, she wove from side to side, forehand, backhand, stroking hard, deftly?but not so hard, not so deftly as a moment before. Lenglen took the next three games. Wills took the seventh, another deuce game...
...blindness. "Out, out," shouted the spectators, confident that they could see better than Mr. Tolley, whose stool was a yard from the baseline. Possibly the ball was out; possibly the decision kept Miss Wills from winning the greatest match of her life. No one will ever know. Suzanne Lenglen, against whom some equally dubious decision had been called in the first set, ran out the set 8-6, and a moment later was borne from the court on the shoulders of her worshipers, her purple face peering, like a ribald Nero's from a wreath of flowers...