Tennis Pro.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 261, 4 November 1933, Page 3 (Supplement)

Tennis Pro.

"Why I Have Left the Amateur Ranks."

(By ELLWORTH VINES.)

LOS ANGELES (Calif.), Oct. 10. I have become a professional tennis player, because it is the only thing for me to do. When a fellow reaches a certain point in his life where he begins to think about the future, where he begins to feel responsibilities, he has to start figuring an answer to the important question: "Where do I go from here ?" The logical answer is for him to start doing the thing he is best fitted to do. And, in my case, it's to play tennis. I've spent the best years of my life—as far as it's gone—trying to perfect my tennis game. Where other fellows of the same age have been training themselves for careers in some business, trade or profession, I've been concentrating on swatting a little rubber ball around. I've concentrated on a backhand instead of bookkeeping, an ace in serving in ])reference to an "A" in studies and the fundamentals of court tactics rather than the fundamentals of business. Indebtedness to Tennis. Tennis has been my life for the past few years —and a mighty fine and interesting life it has been. Regardless of \vhat anyone may say of me or my decision to become a professional, no one will ever be able to say that I do not recognise my indebtedness to the game of tennis. No one knows better than I that if it had not be.en for amateur tennis I would not be where I am to-dav.

Amateur tennis made it possible for me to travel all over the United States, to visit Australia, the South Seas and to cross the Atlantic to Europe —advantages which would probably never have been mine if I had not happened to be a good tennis player.

Amateur tennis lias made it possible for me to meet a lot of fine people whom I might not otherwise have been fortunate enough to meet. It has given me a, type of education that is much more expensive, must more unusual and in many ways is much more valuable than the school book education that I have been forced to forgo while travelling all over the world playing tennis.

I owe a tremendous debt to amateur tennis, and if I had not recognised that debt I would have accepted some of the flattering professional offers that were made to me a year ago when I had just completed what amounted to a clean sweep of the world's amateur tennis titles, and when the financial value of my tennis was greater than, in all probability, it could ever be again.

I did not accept these offers at that time because I felt that I wanted to see the Davis Cup brought back to the United States, and that to abandon my amateur career at that time would not be the sporting thing to do even though it undoubtedly would have been the smartest thing to do. I knew at the time that I was taking a chance of sacrificing my best interests financially, but I felt that the thing tor me to do was to do my best to help win that cup ba,ck for the United States. The Pros and Cons. As it turned out, I may have done the wrong thing—not only from my own personal standpoint, but also, perhaps, from the standpoint of the United States, as I'm afraid that I didn't make much of a contribution to the success of the American Davis Cup team. But I at least did what I thought was the honest thing to do.

A lot of people, I think, see only one side of the fine life of a star tennis player. "Pretty soft," they say, "for a young man to travel all over the world first-class, staying at the best hotels, mingling with the best people without a cent of expense of any kind. Pretty soft."

Certainly it's pretty nice, and nobody is any more grateful for the opportunities that tennis provides than I am. But the fellows —and I am only one of several—who have been taking advantage of all the opportunities and have been travelling and living in style for several years at no financial expense to themselves have made a few sacrifices themselves. They haven't stayed in one place long enough really to get acquainted. They sacrificed—at least, I have--—a college education or a fundamental business training that they might have been getting in the same period of time.

If I had put the same amount of time and interest and effort in business I might have been in a position of security in some business house with a real career to look forward to. The fellows who keep right on playing the game are all right as long as they keep on playing, but when they come to the end of the line —either because they're no longer top-notch players or " because they realise that t.his sort of thing can't go, on for ever—all they have left are pleasant memories of their tennis careers, with a few reminders in the way of silver cups whose value is sentimental rather than practical. Of course, there are chances to "chisel" in amateur tennis. A fellow could always pad expense accounts, perhaps even go so far as to get a suit of clothes or even have some none-too-oonscientious tournament official slip him a -little real money, one way or another. I guess those things have been done—yon certainly hear enough rumours about them —but, after all, what would that amount to, anyway? Petty larceny, that's all. Even if a fellow's conscience didn't bother him, he wouldn't be getting any place. A Living to Make. With me, I simply couldn't afford to go on as an amateur. I'm no millionaire. I have to >t«rt earning a living. I have responsibilities, and I have to meet them, j

Being an amateur tennis champion isn't entirely a. bed of roses. From the very moment I began to win big tournaments people were after nie with one proposition or another. A lot of wellmeaning friends of mine—and some perhaps who were not so well meaning— kept trying to do something for me without my sanction, and their "amateur" negotiations undoubtedly gave rise to a great many of the wild rumours that have been floating around. I've been offered every proposition in the world, from doing a hoofing act on the stage to teaching tennis by mail—• and most of these propositions have been coming to me during the last year. People wouldn't let me alone. Is it any wonder that I couldn't play tennis ? As far as the Davis Cup is concerned, nobody is sorrier than I am that we didn't win it. The heart of every member of the Davis Cup team was set on winning back that cup —and my heart along with the other boys. The Decision a Relief. All these propositions naturally were weighing on my mind. I turned them down. I tried to put them out of my thoughts—but a fellow just can't do it when something new keeps bobbing up at every turn. Unquestionably all these matters affected my game and, I'm sorry to say, probably affected the play of the

other fellows who naturally thought— as I did—that I would play as well as I had the year before. 1 think, perhaps, that we were a little over-confident. But I certainly believe that everyone under-estimated the strength of the Brittish team. Some still do. Fred Perry's play against France, his victory over Jack Crawford, of Australia, in our national championships at Forest Hills,, and his more recent victories on the Pacific Coast ought to give people a pretty good idea of what a wonderfully improved player he is. And "Bunny" Austin was. remarkably effective at Auteuil also. The British might reasonably havo beaten us even if we had all been at the very peak of our games—no one will ever know. Anyhow, it's a relief to have finally arrived at the decision to become a professional. At least it is to me. I feci that I'll be able to play the best tennis of my life now that some of the strain and worry is. over. I'm playing golf right now—or at least I call it golf. I'll be starting to play tennis seriously in about a month and may possibly give a few lessons, too. I expect to bo in the best form of my career at the start of 1034 and hope to "deliver the goods" as a professional just as conscientiously as if I had chosen some other means of earning my living.—(Copyright by X.A.N.A.)