ANDRE'S LOVE LETTER WINS HEARTS AT HALL OF FAME ENSHRINEMENT

A love letter from Andre. Granny on the loose. The Swedish heretic. Generations on parade.

Those were the elements that made the annual celebration at the International Tennis Hall of Fame one of the game’s grandest occasions ever over the July 9-10-11 weekend.

And, oh yes, a tournament was played at the venerable tennis parlor on Bellevue Avenue, following a custom established in 1881. Greg Rusedski, trying to rejuvenate himself, toppled the lofty German, 6-foot-7 Alexander Popp, 7-6 (7-5), 7-6 (7-2), to win the Jimmy Van Alen Cup. The score, completing the ATP Tour stopover sponsored by Campbell’s Soup, seemed appropriate since Van Alen himself had introduced his seemingly daffy concept. the tie-breaker, on the same lawn 39 years earlier.

But the present was upstaged by the past at The Casino, the world’s elder among tennis playpens, during the weekend fete marking the Hall of Fame’s golden jubilee. A joyful, sometimes tearful, reunion lured 50 Famers from across the globe – among them double-Grand Slammer Rod Laver, Grand Slammer Margaret Court, Chris America (Ms Evert), John McEnroe -- to be saluted by enthusiastic crowds, fans prompted by grateful memories.

Of course the yearly rite was observed, the tapping of rookie Famers to join the gods and goddesses of the game in the Hall. Thus “Fraulein Forehand” (Steffi Graf), “The Sweet-swinging Swede” (Stefan Edberg) and “The Eternal Champ” (Dodo Cheney) were elevated.

That ceremony brought a future Hall of Famer, Andre Agassi, to town to play a role that neither he nor anybody else had ever assumed – a husband presenting his roommate for induction. Unique. So was his moving tribute, a spoken love letter of such tenderness that it touched and warmed the 5087 eavesdroppers filling the stands, inducing tears from many of them and his Stefanie.

The two-day theme was love, not just the devotion of Andre and Steffi for each other, but blended with admiration within the crowds and lavished on the champions who had given so much pleasure during their tenures. Their processions onto the court Saturday and Sunday were cavalcades of the history of the game.

There was 90-year-old Gardnar Mulloy, erect, competing yet, No. 1 in the U.S. in 1952...82-year-old Jack Kramer whose name emblazoned more rackets than any other...81-year-old volleyer Louise Brough Clapp, winner of four Wimbledon singles...witty 88-year-old Gene Mako, collaborator with Don Budge as the illustrious Davis Cup winning doubles team of 1937...sly 83-year-old Pancho Segura, progenitor of the two-handed forehand...42-year-old Hana Mandlikova, holder of four majors (U.S., French, two Australian), but more interested in her two minors, twin son and daughter...the “Doomsday Stroking Machine,” 69-year-old Kenny Rosewall, marking his 48th and 38th Newport anniversaries, having won twice here: 1956 as an amateur, 1966 as a pro.

And many more. Each had a good story to tell, enough to fill all these pages. One I especially liked was that of bubbly 77-year-old Shirley Fry Irvin, a vivid illustration of how times have changed. Shirley, who won the U.S. title on her 16th try, beating Althea Gibson at Forest Hills in 1956, recalled traveling alone to tournaments all over the U.S., from age 10.

“My parents would put me on a bus in Akron, my hometown, and off I’d go. Usually someone met me at the other end, but I would go to Travelers Aid if there was a problem. It built self-reliance, and it was fun.” Can you imagine a parent daring to do that in the U.S. today?

Previously on Sunday, Agassi had done his part in a fund-raiser for the Hall, an extraordinary 9:30 AM doubles collection of all-timers: he, the kid at 34 and Rod Laver, 66, against John McEnroe, 45, and Tony Roche, 59. That sent the affection up another notch. Early birds, numbering 4652, lined up for a city block to buy tickets and watch these virtuosi, a rare, assemblage, indulge in good-natured and often stunning shotmaking. Witnesses were heartened that the great Laver, could hang in there, nevertheless. Struck down by a near-fatal stroke in 1999, he persisted, and has recovered extremely well.

Then for Andre came an afternoon encore in suit-and-tie and the hailing of the woman whom he calls by her straight name, Stefanie, ushering her to a place amid the saints of the game. Welcomed to the Hall, she received an honor never sought and, in her longtime quest for privacy, somewhat dreaded.

Andre made it easier, despite the tears, and just right for her.

The players who didn’t play (but had done so brilliantly in their day) were the loudly cheered stars of the rapturous blue sky days as the Hall’s gala moved through a weekend of highs. Surrounded by Famers, whose reunion made it a rare fete, Graf, Edberg and Cheney formed the Class of 2004.

One of the Famers, South African Frew McMillan, sensed the bittersweetness. “The next time such a reunion is held, many of these faces will be gone.”

The crowd, in an outpouring of fondness, appreciated that, too, in hurrahing champions who ranged from McEnroe to Mulloy in age. Mulloy (1946) and Laver (1960, 65, 67) had won titles on this greensward. So had Chris Evert, 1974, 85; Ted Schroeder, 1947, 50; Frank Sedgman, 1951-52; Hall of Fame President Tony Trabert, 1953; Mal Anderson, 1957-58; Roy Emerson, 1965; Dennis Ralston, 1966. McEnroe had bade farewell to Davis Cup singles in scorching wins over Spaniards Emilio Sanchez and Tomas Carbonell in 1991.

Wimbledon champs John Newcombe, Virginia Wade, Ashley Cooper, Stan Smith, Maria Bueno, Jan Kodes, Ann Jones, Vic Seixas, Alex Olmedo, Neale Fraser, Budge Patty, Angela Mortimer Barrett, Dick Savitt were there. As well as French champs Nicola Pietrangeli, Francoise Durr, Nancy Richey, Lesley Turner Bowrey, Mervyn Rose, and U.S. champs Art Larsen and Guillermo Vilas. Plus doubles marvels Rosie Casals and Bob Hewitt, and off-court brains Bob Kelleher and Lamar Hunt. As an extraordinary USTA president Kelleher was influential in bringing about open tennis in 1968 while Hunt, a founder of World Championship Tennis, then led in professionalizing the game.

“This is the ultimate,” said Vilas, the Argentine lefty who became the game’s initial TV somebody through the PBS telecasts of the 1970s. “We may do other things in life, but the Hall is as far as we can go in tennis.”

You might call the galloping granny, 5-foot-3 Dorothy May (Dodo) Bundy Cheney a work in progress. After all, she won’t be 88 until Sept. 1, but continues plucking gold balls, emblematic of U.S. championships, like grapes in a vineyard of her native California. She’s up to 347 now, aiming for more in the 80s and 85s, a gold-digger more successful than most of the original ’49-ers.

Though the digging has been done over six decades of age group competition, it should be remembered that Dodo won the Australian title in 1938, was in the U.S. top ten 10 times between 1936 and 1946 and the world top ten in 1937 and 1946.

The eternal Cheney, accompanied by a family entourage of 26, including children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, charmed everyone. She said the excitement made her “heart beat so fast I might keel over. I’ve had nothing but fun since I won my first championship as a 10-year-old, and I still love competition.” She completes the Hall’s only mother-daughter combo. Mom, May Sutton Bundy, the first American to win Wimbledon in 1905, made the Hall with the Class of 1956.

“No, I didn’t attend,” shrugged Dodo, proud of “my great genes.” [Her father, Tom Bundy, won the U.S. doubles with Maurice McLoughlin in 1912-13-14, and a cousin, Johnny Doeg, took the U.S. singles in 1930.] “I guess I was probably playing a tournament somewhere.”

Edberg, the slim blond heretic, may have worshipped at the church of Bjorn Borg, but he didn’t follow the baselining gospel. Serving-and-volleying smoothly, he won six singles majors, splitting them equally among Wimbledon, the US and Australian, and had a slick hand in four Davis Cups for Sweden.

Stefan spoke of his love for the game that carried him through all the “hard work and setbacks” that were necessary to endure to become a champion. He felt his first great moment was as an 18-year-old Davis Cup doubles player (alongside Anders Jarryd) as Sweden upset the U.S. in 1984. Looking at McEnroe with a broad smile, Stefan said, “We beat you that time.” It was the lone Cup doubles loss for Mac and Peter Fleming.

Agassi, as the presenter of Graf, reached pinnacles of eloquence and adoration, at times pausing to subdue his own tears.

“Looking out across this audience filled with warm friends and great champions, I am overwhelmed with the history and tradition of the moment. As I attempt to find words worthy to introduce the person that has changed my life, I realize that the words have yet to be invented that are large enough, colorful enough, true enough to express the heart and soul of this woman I love.”

It was still. Listeners realized they were in on an uncommonly deep and passionate paean to the woman they knew as “Fraulein Forehand,” spoken as though only the two of them, Andre and Steffi, were in the house.

He continued for seven minutes, citing her “never needing applause to be your best, only needing to give the best your soul could give to feel complete.

“From the roar of voices of centre court, to the quietness of a child’s bedroom, that generous soul, that unbending strength, that soft-spoken integrity has not one time been shaken. The arena of tennis simply gave you a platform to refine those inner qualities even more. You have always been about the action, not about the words.

“It has taken my breath away to see how you have quietly laid down your racket to pursue love and motherhood with the same zeal and high standards you have always demanded of yourself.”

How often has she taken the breath away from those who watched her? Gliding across the world’s courts she evoked DeBussy’s lovely tone poem, “The Girl With Flaxen Hair.”

Steffi, the only player in history to have won all four singles majors at least four times, for a total of 22, and a Grand Slammer in 1988, seemed to have lost her breath and composure. – “...to hear you’re loved so much.” But that was momentary. She pulled herself together, typical of herself in competition. Tears dried, she praised her nearby father and mother, and others along “the journey to here.” She appeared relieved when it was over.

It had been a grand journey for all of us, described in a vocal love letter.

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