Sport: Advantage Kramer

(See Cover)

Tennis is a game of no use in itself, but

of great use in respect it maketh a quick

eye and a body ready to put itself into

all postures.

It is not of record that Francis Bacon was much of a tennis player, but most tennis players would agree with his estimate of the game. The best tennis player in the world, a 26-year-old named John Albert Kramer, should certainly not take exception to it—though he might want to add a few things. For instance, the kind of tennis he plays is about to be of some use to his country. And shortly thereafter, it might be turned to more immediate profit to himself.

This week, with a breezy step, "Big Jake" Kramer marched into the game's sacred shrine at Forest Hills, L.I. He had a big grin and a quick "Hello" for everybody. He also had a brand-new crew haircut. That, he felt, was pretty important. He huffed & puffed through calisthenics, took a turn at rope-skipping, got in a businesslike three-hour practice session on the court.

The tennis season was at its peak, and there was plenty of work for the champ to do. There was also some relaxing to do, and Big Jake finally found time to read the last pages of a thriller-diller western called Magic of a Killer's Name. Dexer the Cowboy and his sawed-off sidekick. Long Tom, were blowing some varmints to kingdom come.

Big Jake could see himself in Dexer's boots. After all, he had been born in Las Vegas, Nev., and might pass for a cowboy himself. He had clear blue eyes and a chipped front tooth. He was tall (6 ft. 1 in.) and gangly; his face was browned and his legs a little bowed—although he had never been closer to a horse than the bettors' booths on a race track. Just the same, the western he was reading had its points of similarity with his own situation. Ted Schroeder would be his sawed-off sidekick, of course, and they sure would put those varmints to rout, just like in the book.

The chief varmint of all, as Jake saw it, was a brash little guy with a quick trigger finger. His name was Bobby Riggs, twice world's professional tennis champion, and he was always yammering that Bobby Riggs was the world's greatest tennis star. Jake guessed he would have to go gunning for Bobby some day.

But right now he had some nearer varmints to contend with—some visiting Australians, survivors of 22 nations which this year challenged for the Davis Cup. It would be the first cup "challenge round" to be decided in the U.S. since Australia took the cup home eight years ago. And next week, the 67th U.S. singles championship would get under way, with the best of the world's amateur stars trying their hardest to do the unlikely and dethrone King Jake.

Hot Dogs & Accents. At Forest Hills, everyone was primping and preening for the two big shows. Gate receipts for the three Davis Cup days were already $145,000 plus. The ten days of National Singles play would probably bring in nearly $150,000 more. The concessionaires were getting ready to serve up a record-breaking 30,000 hot dogs and 48,000 bottles of soda pop. Each morning, the 23 grass courts were being rolled a little nearer perfection.