The Tournament

by John Clarke

  It is difficult to know whether Ludwig Wittgenstein plays tennis because he enjoys it or because it keeps him from doing something he would enjoy. He is not the most relaxed character in town; he looks tense and anxious (‘haunted’ according to the newspapers) and friends say he needs to be ‘tricked’ into going to sleep or practising. ‘No,’ he says, ‘I do not play well enough to practise.’

  Although he and his opponent today, the Czech Jaroslav Hasek, are six years apart and from different countries, both came up through the Austrian army, an experience Hasek describes as ‘hilarious’ and Wittgenstein as ‘appalling’.

  Hasek has performed high deeds here so far; he took out the all-surface specialist Wally Gropius in the first round and out-finished Jean Sibelius in the second. Wittgenstein began slowly against the American Williams and then took Lawrence of Nottingham apart in the second round. (The sight of the perspiring Lawrence sitting proud and shirtless between sets steaming like a horse and Wittgenstein staring in unblinking fury at his racquet belied the facts of the match.)

  Not everyone is impressed with Wittgenstein. Karl Popper, who missed Austrian selection because of a coaching appointment in New Zealand but who is here to practise with Einstein, says, ‘In order to establish that someone is a great player we should not look for evidence that he is, we should look for evidence that he is not. If we cannot find it, we might conclude he is a great player.’ And in Wittgenstein’s case? ‘Why do you think he won’t come out to the practice courts?’

  Hasek can consider himself unlucky to have lost this match. He lost the first set with an ace which was called out (which both players protested about and which the replay showed quite clearly was in) and the second on a foot-fault called from the other end. His ground strokes in the third set were unplayable but at 3–3 in the final set he fell heavily on his left knee, lost something of his speed and that was that.

  Take nothing away from Wittgenstein in this. He was never out of it and said afterwards he was learning to put the ball ‘just out of reach’. Earlier on, he said, he had been trying to put the ball ‘out of reach’. Now he realises he needs only to put it ‘just out of reach’.

  There was no love lost on Court 4 last night with an Irishman and an American up against each other in what was a very English battle. Both players have done much for English tennis, Shaw enlivening its structures and forcing it to understand its own politics and Eliot finding an expression for its despair and loss of meaning. For two sets Shaw looked like an admiral, timing the ball well and serving superbly. As the match progressed, however, Eliot played the big points better, although he was annoyed when Shaw suggested that he attend to his wife who had just fainted for the fifth time. Eliot said later his wife was ‘perfectly well but was overcome by heat’.

  ‘Eliot is a good player,’ said Shaw, ‘a poor judge, a bad husband and a racist.’

  This perhaps relates to the statement Eliot released earlier: ‘The tragic death of Karl Liebknecht, a Jew who was opposed to the usurpation of power and sponsorship money in the hands of one class, throws into question the claim often made by Jews that they do not wish to control the sponsorship money.’

  There wasn’t much doubt that Gertrude Stein would say something about this following her match with Mary McCarthy. Or that McCarthy would agree with her. What was surprising was that Rosa Luxemburg, who was visibly upset throughout her match with the Indian Sarojini Naidu, would be arrested at the post-match press call and taken away for questioning.

  ‘Questioning by whom?’ asked Naidu. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Questioning by the authorities,’ she was told. ‘A routine matter.’

  Vita Sackville-West was loose in her match and Frances Hodgkins goes through to meet Bernhardt in the fourth round. Sackville-West is unusual in that she was put down for this tournament at birth although due to a filing error she discovered she had been entered in the men’s draw and was, in fact, a woman.

  The departure of Eleanor Roosevelt, of whom the same might be said, was also a surprise although she has invested a good deal of her energy into securing the right to multiple partners in the doubles. Maxine Elliott, who beat Roosevelt today, is a gifted player whose partner Anthony Wilding has won three successive Wimbledon singles crowns.

  Tonight’s match featured the Count, who sent down a few range-finders against his countryman Vladimir Mayakovsky and then opened the throttle with a towering service game. There’s something about Mayakovsky when he’s got his back to the wall, however, and he summoned his reserves today, stood his ground and fought his way to a remarkable victory. In a match that went out live and was seen by an astonishing 27 per cent of the population of western Europe, Mayakovsky ran the legs off the older man, got to the net and dictated terms. In the final set he stood back and beat him at his own game. The Count knew it was all over and afterwards observed, ‘All victories are the same but every defeat is a defeat in its own way.’

  Mayakovsky put it for many: ‘Without Leo Tolstoy the game in Russia would still be played with sticks and dried manure. More than any other player of his era, he is one of us.’

  Round 4

  Day 24

  * * *

  Malraux v. Einstein • Bernhardt v. Hodgkins • Nijinsky and Pavlova v. Benchley and Parker • Kafka v. Wittgenstein

  * * *

  Most courts were back in action today as doubles matches enriched a program of fourth-round singles. The deceptive Dutchman Escher was ambushed with little ceremony by the likeable Waller. Malraux put up a good fight against the superior firepower of Einstein but could do little to combat a service game that seemed to have no cracks whatever. Bernhardt was bemused by Hodgkins for a set until she turned the power on and went away. Then a pall was thrown over events by the failure of Rosa Luxemburg to make an appearance for her singles match.

  On outside courts, seeded doubles combination Brecht and Weill were outclassed by Shostakovich and Prokofiev, and Hope and Crosby played entertaining tennis in taking out Bakst and the Russian Blok, formerly the Soviet Blok. In the women’s doubles the Americans Roosevelt and Luce were beaten by Lotte Lenya and Marlene Dietrich. Second-seeded mixed doubles combination Nijinsky and Pavlova looked great but they only just beat Benchley and Dorothy Parker, whose approach might be described as ‘social’. Aside from his own service Nijinsky did not hit a ball and it was left to Pavlova to sprint about the place spinning and twirling, leaping and diving. She finished the match completely exhausted, surrounded by flowers thrown from the stands, while Nijinsky stood at the net, glaring at a cloud.

  Kafka said after their match that Wittgenstein had ‘played very well. I couldn’t work out what I was up against.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Wittgenstein. ‘I thought you played better than I did. I couldn’t work out what I was doing.’

  ‘Whatever you were doing, you did it very well,’ said Kafka. ‘I just couldn’t work out what it was.’

  ‘You hit the ball beautifully,’ said Wittgenstein. ‘For two sets you sat me on my arse.’

  ‘Yes, but you won three sets,’ insisted Kafka.

  ‘I didn’t say you beat me,’ clarified Wittgenstein. ‘I said you played better tennis than I did. I didn’t know what I was doing.’

  ‘You were beating me,’ offered Kafka.

  ‘That was a consequence of what I was doing,’ corrected Wittgenstein.

  ‘It must have been, in part, a consequence of what I was doing,’ parried Kafka.

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t know what you were up against.’

  Kafka looked confused and said rather elliptically that he was glad nothing had fallen on him.

  The news about Rosa Luxemburg was contained in an official communiqué. ‘The troubled Polish star,’ it began, ‘finds that due to other commitments she must withdraw from the tournament.’

  Reaction was immediate. ‘It is not the truth,’ said George Orwell, preparing for his match against Munch tomorrow. ‘Look at the language of the communiq
ué. It hides the truth. It is necessary to make the statement only because it is not true. Where is Rosa Luxemburg?’

  A large deputation of women players registered a formal protest. Sarojini Naidu, beaten by Luxemburg in the previous round and half of the Naidu–Pandit team that took out the fashionable Schiaparelli–Chanel combination today, was distraught. ‘This is a lie full of lies. Rosa is not troubled, is not a star, has no other commitments and has not withdrawn from the tournament. Rosa’s friend Karl Liebknecht has been murdered, and now she has been abducted herself. Rosa is being persecuted and possibly tortured because of her thinking about the game. This is a defining moment. Rosa Luxemburg must be brought back here immediately and allowed to play. Moreover, she and every other participant must be given a guarantee of safety by the tournament itself.’

  Tournament officials are tonight ‘considering the position’.

  Day 25

  * * *

  Stravinsky v. Rodo • Munch v. Orwell • Proust v. Dali • Arendt v. Mandelstam • Chekhov and Miller v. Lardner and Fitzgerald • Riefenstahl and Hari v. Mead and Stark

  * * *

  Igor Stravinsky slipped past Diego Rivera in the first round and played a Homeric five-setter against Pasternak before a tough exam against Sean O’Casey in the third round.

  His opponent today, Uruguayan qualifier José Rodo, has lifted the profile of South American tennis and was not disgraced today by any means but there is an experimental quality to everything Stravinsky does and it’s not always obvious what he is about. Today he seemed scrappy and loose but there was never any doubt about the score.

  ‘Look at the score,’ he said afterwards. ‘Read it. It’s all there.’

  ‘Were you nervous?’ asked Norman Mailer.

  ‘Nervous?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mailer continued. ‘You seemed anxious.’

  ‘Anxious?’ he asked. ‘How?’

  ‘Your playing seems anxious.’

  ‘My playing seems anxious?’ repeated Stravinsky. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Your playing makes the crowd anxious. It is not soothing. It is not calming.’

  Stravinsky held up his hand. ‘The crowd should be soothed?’

  ‘Perhaps if the crowd is anxious,’ Mailer explained, ‘it should be soothed.’

  Stravinsky was still not clear. ‘Are you saying the crowd is anxious or are you asking me if I am anxious?’

  ‘I am saying there is anxiety in the way you play.’

  ‘I see,’ said Stravinsky. ‘But why do you say that?’

  ‘I say that because the way you play makes me anxious.’

  ‘You are anxious,’ said Stravinsky. ‘Of course you are. I’m not surprised. Where is Rosa Luxemburg?’

  The wheels finally came off the Eddie Munch wagon this afternoon but the Norwegian leaves a lasting impression. He was completely exhausted after his match and sat throughout the press call with his hands up to his face, his mouth open and a look of blind panic in his eyes. When asked how he was feeling he said, ‘How do I look? I’m going to take a long break.’

  Today also saw the end of another struggle with the departure of Marcel Proust, whose fitness was always going to tell against him in the long run, especially as his obsession with keeping the ball in play has led to longer and longer rallies which have weakened him to the point of collapse. Dali played imaginative tennis and deserved the win although he was cautioned for draping his watch over a tree after the first set.

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ he asked.

  ‘You can’t do that. It’s not the way things are done, Mr Dali. Many people were shocked.’

  ‘Shocked?’ said Dali. ‘Dear me, I do apologise.’ He stood up and climbed onto the table. ‘I apologise for shocking people!’ he cried.

  He was wearing no pants.

  Hannah Arendt also had her hands full with Nadezhda Mandelstam but came through in the third set. Simone de Beauvoir was rather disappointing in getting past Romania’s Ana Pauker, who put up a great fight. De Beauvoir did not serve well and offered little encouragement to supporters.

  The four women held a joint press conference in which they said they had agreed before their matches today that the winners, whoever they were, would refuse to play on unless Rosa Luxemburg was returned and every other player given a guarantee of safety by the tournament. De Beauvoir and Arendt both confirmed they will not play again unless the condition is met.

  SuperTom did not attend the post-match press call after his doubles match, possibly because he didn’t want to be questioned about his statement that he ‘didn’t see the point in all this fuss about some Polish woman’. Another reason advanced for his non-attendance was his wish to avoid questions about exactly what he was doing out there today. He took a casual attitude to proceedings and appeared to have no interest whatever in the result.

  Groucho Marx was full of praise for his partner after the match. ‘I’ve got real admiration for these guys who have proper training. I’ve really got no technique. I never learnt any. It’s just great for me to be out here with guys like Tom.’

  Marx’s enthusiasm for SuperTom was in evidence on the court. He ran about like a madman while Eliot waited like an Easter Island statue. Runyon and Low are a fair package at any price and will attract interest on today’s showing but there was little doubt in the press box that SuperTom was conserving his energy for the singles.

  A much better example was provided by Tony Chekhov, who peeled off a top-drawer singles performance to move past Wodehouse and then turned up on Court 3 with Arthur Miller to do battle in the men’s doubles. What a combination this is! Miller has every shot in the book and is one of the fittest players in the game; with the general controlling the back court, there is little left to chance. Their opponents today, Lardner and Fitzgerald, are neighbours and friends. They were in high spirits and throughout the match they laughed and told stories and drank rather a lot of what appeared to be water from what seemed to be water bottles. They said afterwards they thought their opponents deserved to win.

  ‘I thought they were very impressive,’ said Lardner.

  ‘They were very good,’ agreed Fitzgerald. ‘Who were they?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea,’ said Lardner.

  The upset of the round in the men’s doubles was the loss of Einstein and Gödel, beaten by Benchley and Thurber. Einstein’s serve kept the Europeans in the contest but against two very imaginative players Gödel’s lack of speed was always a problem.

  Leni Riefenstahl and Mata Hari beat Margaret Mead and Freya Stark in a lively match, making rather a nonsense of Sartre’s claim in this morning’s paper that, ‘No one associated with the German tennis authorities is any good at tennis.’

  Hari, a Dutch doubles specialist known for her close association with the German game, did not turn up for the media conference and it was left to Riefenstahl to explain why they played in black skirts.

  ‘There is no rule preventing us from playing in black skirts.’

  Had they been instructed to wear black skirts?

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Riefenstahl.

  Had they discussed it before the match?

  ‘I don’t recall. I don’t think so.’

  How was it that they both wore black skirts?

  ‘Coincidence,’ said Riefenstahl.

  An hour later Riefenstahl was back out on court in a mixed-doubles match with the Austrian journeyman Hitler who went to school with Wittgenstein and has subsequently hated Jews, Catholics, homosexuals, intellectuals, aristocrats, ascetics, teachers and all madmen above average height. Neither he nor Riefenstahl attended the press conference after their match (they went down to Freud and Klein) but presumably it was also a ‘coincidence’ that the majority of the crowd was dressed in black shirts.

  Day 26

  * * *

  Freud v. Matisse • Faulkner v. Robeson • Smith v. Elliott • Rhys v. Stein • Magritte v. van Gogh

  * * *

  ‘Very interesting,’ said Fre
ud after his match against Matisse. ‘I concluded that Henri was playing in a dream.’

  ‘Here we go,’ said Matisse. ‘What sort of dream?’

  ‘It was a dream in which you were playing tennis.’

  ‘I thought I was playing tennis,’ said Matisse.

  ‘In the dream?’ probed the Doc.

  ‘No. Just out there. Half an hour ago.’

  ‘Of course. And were you defeating your opponent?’

  ‘I won the first set,’ Matisse recalled. ‘And then I won the second…’

  ‘Ah, but you didn’t win the third, did you?’ countered the Doc.

  ‘I didn’t,’ agreed Matisse.

  ‘In fact you were humiliated in the third, weren’t you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say humiliated,’ said Matisse. ‘I broke a string at 5–5 and that was that.’

  ‘In this dream, what colour clothing were you wearing?’

  ‘It wasn’t a dream but I was wearing white.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Freud. ‘White. You know what that signifies, don’t you?’

  ‘That we were playing tennis?’ ventured Matisse.

  ‘Semen.’

  ‘Semen?’ said Matisse. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. Last night I was fucking this model…’

  ‘I don’t want to hear about that. I want to discuss your sexual repression,’ said the Doc.

  ‘That’s exactly what I was saying to her!’ said Matisse. ‘She has these particularly wonderful breasts—’