Categories
Postings

Bobby Riggs on his Death Bed

1945: The Enola Gay took off for Hiroshima.  Don Budge and I, the world’s two best players, played a few miles away. A little action. Entertaining the troops. Army (Budge) vs. Navy (Riggs), that’s the way it is boys. Bets? Bets? I was just a pesky hustler, but I finally figured him out. He got scared, too, when he saw it coming.

1946: That giant clock was hanging 35 feet above the court when I played Budge the next year. I practiced my lob in the arena—damnit! I should have trained more for that Battle of the Sexes with Billie Jean. I lobbed Budge 70 times all within a foot of the clock–only hit it 3 times!–the crowd oooohing and aaaahing I’m betting fans in the stands Clark Gable and Groucho and Erol Flynn . . . Man, those are tough overheads to hit, and Budge’s sore shoulder, and he’s out of shape, not like those early years of the War when God could kill everyone.

1947: By the end of ‘47 I was finished. Took up golf. Could bet 17 times on a single hole. I was not an addict. I had a good time. I won and won and won. That smartass reporter asked if I knew Pascal’s wager, so I looked it up.

Put your money on God. Put your money on Billie Jean King.

The link for the Bobby Riggs portrait by © Mort Drucker can be found here: National Portrait Gallery

For free posts every Friday in your email featuring creative collaborations, innovative writing, and original art from around the world, follow Tennis Players as Works of Art below:

Happy to announce that this blog has been named one of Feedspot’s top tennis blogs, websites & influencers of 2021.