When tennis’ first ‘bionic’ woman Billie Jean King romped home to a grand triumph, 6-4, 6-3, 6-3, against male chauvinist, and tennis’ self-appointed clown, Bobby Riggs, on September 20, 1973, women’s tennis received a shot in the arm like never before. This was not all. The King-Riggs’ ‘showdown’ was billed as the battle of sexes,’ all right, yet it was a match that was as significant for women’s movement inasmuch as it gave them hope to fulfilling their dreams. And, King, with her graceful and inspired game, was more than a deification of such a reverie — also, its ultimate culmination.
It was a ‘best-of-five’ match, as Riggs wanted it to be — one that touched peoples’ lives more than ever before, or until that point of time. Over 30,000 fans watched the match that changed tennis history, with another 40 million glued to catch the action ‘live’ on television. This was yet another record for a landmark spectacle — an event like no other.
When King walked on to the court at the Houston Astrodome, she was backed by just two simple, but profound elements: her confidence, not overconfidence, and the positive charge that the match was all set to bring about for women. The milieu was taut. If only King, as women libbers surmised, could win the event. This, they reckoned, would bid fair to a brave new world before them. What if she lost? It would be a struggle, yet again, for equality of status and opportunity — not to speak of ‘parity’ in prize money.
This was also a time when the ‘tag’ of male superiority was a powerful shibboleth, thanks to the widespread assumption that men were the superior sex. To state the obvious, women were ‘fighting’ for a place in the universe. So, what better idea than to pit a man against woman at the height of the ‘tussle’ for equal rights than the King vs Riggs’ tennis match — one that would ‘sport’ the label as being a knockdown, duke-it-out, real life battle of the sexes?
King took up the gauntlet to show that any man was no better than any woman. And, Riggs? He was ‘game’ to the idea, no less. He was one of the last icons of the stuffy ‘male-leitmotif,’ a showman and born promoter, who knew how to sell tickets. Picture this: Riggs was ranked #1 in the world in 1939, when he won Wimbledon. He also subsequently won three US Open Championships. He faded from the public eye in the 1950s-1960s, only to re-enter the spotlight for his match against King, which was aggressively publicised.
When King served the first ball, the match was electrically charged. It was abuzz with a host of overtones — social, political, personal, or otherwise. It was amazing that either player could perform at all. That Riggs had ‘blasted’ another legend Margaret Court earlier — a precursor to the event, perhaps, was fresh in King’s mind, what with its whopping US$50,000 winner-takes-all indent. What’s more, the rules were well laid out: 2-minute changeovers, 4-minute ‘pauses’ between sets, and extra ten minutes in the event of injury.
Yet, the equation wasn’t simplistic. Riggs was 55; King was 30. While Riggs was busy thinking about man vs woman, King thought it was a question of ‘old vs young,’ whichever way you’d look at it. Most importantly, King had devised her own game plan — to serve and volley, and chip and charge, when receiving Riggs’ junkets, because she had ‘taped’ her opponent’s one major weakness: backhand. She’d also thought of an alternative hit softly and ‘run’ Riggs into the ground. More than anything else, King was feeling fit, and mentally prepared, and this was more than half of the battle won.
When the two players arrived on the court, they exchanged disparaging ‘presents.’ Riggs carried an oversized lollipop vis-à-vis King’s baby pig. But, by the end of the third game, Riggs’ feet had become wooden; heavy and directionless. What’s more, he was heaving and sweating profusely. He looked like an out-of-shape circus lampoon vis-à-vis King’s classy athleticism. Some critics thought that the match was not equitable, but symbolic. Others thought of it as being fatuous. Whatever the interpretation, the match was a historic event. It legitimised woman’s tennis, so much so, it became safe and respectable to be a feminist.
There were rumours galore that Riggs had ‘rigged’ the match, and that he had, as was his wont, bet heavily on himself. There was, perhaps, an element of truth in the allegation, because Riggs really thought he’d win with supreme ease. But, Riggs was Riggs — a bundle of contradictions, but a true sportsman, with a heart of gold. So, when he netted the match point, he just jumped over the net and congratulated his opponent without an iota of lament.
Years later, you’d think that times had changed, and that no woman need pit herself physically against a man. Wrong — if you’d agree that nobody would sit and watch such a match. Just think of a ‘relative’ paradigm: the Williams sisters’ wild braggadocio, during one Australian Open. They yelled that they could beat any of the men pros, ranked outside of the top 200.
It was enough ‘grist’ for Karsten Braasch, ranked #203, to take up the challenge. He beat both Serena and Venus without ado, after having played golf in the morning, and gulped some spirited elixir, not to speak of half a pack of cigarettes, into his system. The German player’s nicotine-coated skills were just too much of a ‘smoke-scream’ to the Williams’ big talk. Not only that. Braasch, it was reported, had served at only half his usual strength.
The ‘mis-matched’ encounter didn’t achieve that real, ‘big’ impact, unlike the King-Riggs’ battle royalé that had the greatest impact on the game. Take prize money, for women players, for instance. It hit the US$1 million within a year’s time in 1974. In 1975, Women’s Tennis Association [WTA] landed its first major TV deal. Chris Evert won a record US$413,000, in just 12 months. This also marked the beginning of extensive corporate sponsorship for women’s tennis. The rest, as the cliché goes, is history.
All the same, the glory for changing the face of woman’s tennis, and for providing the sport its first fundamental boost, goes to the bespectacled King, and Riggs, a Woody Allen lookalike. Their ‘monumental’ clash achieved something more than what Arthur Scargill could ever accomplish for the coal industry. It was also, in the final analysis, a match that transcended sport, and set the ball rolling for modern women’s tennis whatever your reading of its ‘credo,’ or, what King and Riggs fully espoused. It totally believed in the adage that it takes ‘two to tango.’
— First published in Financial Chronicle
