In the almost two decades since the late sociologist E. Digby Baltzell wrote his well-regarded chronicle of men’s tennis, the sophomoric behavior of contemporary professional players that he deplored has become ubiquitous. In years past, the tongue-lashing an umpire recently endured from the aggrieved singles player Viktor Troicki (captured in a widely circulated video clip) would have lived on in infamy, but today we’ll remember it only until the next display of rude court conduct hits the Internet.
His charming anecdotes and vivid profiles are drawn from an age of nobility and grace.
Baltzell’s classic Sporting Gentlemen: Men’s Tennis from the Age of Honor to the Cult of the Superstar charts the history of tennis from its graceful origins to its current sad state. His charming anecdotes and vivid profiles are drawn from an age of nobility and grace, an age that came to an end in 1968 when the well-established amateur game gave in to economic pressures, resulting in the international professional circuit we see today. Even in this new “open era” he finds a few Arthur Ashes to hold the line against the influences of the world’s John McEnroes, but even writing in 1995 he could foresee the demise of the game’s character-building qualities in the face of a craven, unchecked conviction that “one must do anything and pay any price to win.”
Since time has done nothing but vindicate Baltzell’s predictions, I recently asked myself why I had not reread Sporting Gentlemen in
