CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
1982: U.S. Teams, Alice Green Victorious in Cuba. 1982: U.S. Players Win Six Medals at First World Veterans Championships.
In the first (TTT, May-June, 1982, cover +) of two articles on the Cuban Invitational held in Santa Clara, Mar. 23-26, Brian Masters begins by telling us how he wanted to commit to playing on the U.S. Team at the Invitational there, but that he had a few problems to overcome. He’d have to pay his own way, would miss four sessions of a college course he was taking at his high school, and as the #1 tennis player on his school team would have to pass up his first three matches, all of which were important. But naturally such obstacles were overcome: money became available; permission to be absent from classes was granted; and his tennis coach thought it a good idea he go.
There remained only the need for a visa. “As it turned out,” said Brian, “because we live close to Washington, D.C., my dad was given the job of getting the visas for the entire team—namely Brian, Quang Bui, a vacationing Roger Kennedy, Judy Tun, and Alice Green, along with interpreter Sylvia Rosenthal. My dad spent a week trying to find out where he could pick up these visas. The Wednesday before we were scheduled to leave, he was told that approval had not come from Cuba. This presented a problem because Quang was scheduled to leave Salt Lake City on Friday morning.”
“Late Thursday morning my dad was finally told to be at the Cuban interest section of the Czechoslovakian Embassy within the hour. Which made for another little problem because the Embassy was in Washington and he was at work in Baltimore. But he made the trip in time and with just a minor hitch or two got the visas.”
“Saturday, as I was ready to leave, everyone told me to expect the worst in Cuba. My mom worried that I might never come back, but my father said the family couldn’t be so lucky. In a few hours I was in Florida passing out visas to everyone in our party except Alice whom we’d catch up with in Santa Clara where the tournament would be held. As our flight left for Cuba, I wondered how we’d be treated by the Cubans. Would we get a fair shake in the matches? And how would the spectators act toward us? Well, I decided, I wouldn’t worry, would just play my best, and enjoy the trip as much as possible.”
“When we landed in Havana we were met by the head of the Cuban Table Tennis Federation, Sr. Rento de Aguero. He was very friendly and had everything all arranged so that we didn’t even have to go through customs. All food, lodging, and personal transportation (with an interpreter/guide to take us shopping and sightseeing) would be paid for by the Cubans. We got into a small bus, and were told by the driver that it was about 60 miles to our destination. So we figured the trip would take about 90 minutes. Almost four hours later we arrived in Santa Clara.”
“Right away Alice Green told us there was a problem in the Men’s Team Matches They were to be Swaythling Cup style—and we had only two not three players…until Alice talked vacationing Roger into playing. After dinner, Quang, Roger, and I went to our room and found we had some serious trouble. That first night we didn’t know how to work the air-conditioner. So all through the night we suffered, had to fight off the mosquitoes that seemed as big as horse flies.”
“On our first full day in Cuba we ate (the food was good), swam, and practiced. We were well treated, and it was nice and relaxing. By this time we had met Santana, our guide, who was to spend the next seven days with us. We’d also seen the playing conditions at the basketball stadium--they were pretty good. The floor was wooden, the tables were fast, home-made but solid, similar to Stigas. The only problem, which we’d have to live with, was the lighting.”
Sylvia will now take over the reporting (TTT, July-Aug., 1982, 8), though Brian will occasionally supplement her account. “It certainly was one of the rare times in the history of Cuba,” said Sylvia, “that the United States Anthem was played and the U.S. flag raised in that country.”
With regard to results, we’ll take the Women’s play first. The U.S.—Alice and Judy—won the Women’s Team event. Then Alice, combining skillful defense with powerful hitting, took the Women’s Singles over the two best Cubans, Baez and 15-year-old Armas whom Judy lost to in the semi’s. Alice praised the Team’s “tremendous team spirit; all supportive of each other.” She was most appreciative of Judy Tun—former Coach of the Thailand National Team. “Judy,” said Alice, “is an absolutely outstanding coach, and should always be chosen as the U.S. coach when we travel.” However, the Cubans did win the Women’s Doubles. And both Cuban pairs downed our Mixed Doubles teams.
Sylvia says that Brian and Judy, pitted against the Cuban B team in the quarter’s of the Mixed, “played the most spectacular point of the entire tournament. With the U.S. up 1-0 and 13-12, the Cuban woman served and play began as a close-to-the-table point. Then a smash from Cuba and Brian countered. Back came a counter-loop and Judy smashed! Back again came a counter to Brian’s forehand at the left side of the table and lefty Brian counter-looped sidespin. Cuba slow-looped back and Judy chopped! Then the Cuban woman smashed Judy’s chop to Brian’s backhand side. And now Brian, on the run, lifted a backhand sidespin lob from the floor! And Cuba hit into the net. At this point the entire stadium broke out in thunderous applause! All matches on the nearby tables had to stop for nearly five minutes until things began to quiet down again. Then quickly the match was over—Cuba lost the next seven points.”
After her matches, Alice said, “I felt the Cuban people were one of the warmest and most hospitable people I have ever met, and the reception that we received both in and out of the tournament was incredibly welcoming. There was good sportsmanship among all the players mixed with good competitive fighting.”
Sylvia said, “The people were warm and wonderful. The children followed us everywhere and formed huge circles around us both in town and at the tournament. I spent hours translating all their questions to our team members, and, in addition, they brought us all little gifts, postcards, badges, and coins—‘regalitos’ —to remember them by. The members of the other teams were very friendly, as were all the people with whom we came in contact.”
“The tournament was very well organized. Matches were played on time, and we had several hours after each tie to go back to the resort where we were staying to eat, swim, rest, and relax. We were housed in Los Caneyes, a resort of clean, thatched-roof huts, the interior complete with all the comforts of a modern hotel, the exterior with its own private patio. One strolled through tropical grounds, down picturesque paths, flanked by flowers, plants, and palms.”
At the tournament site itself, free sandwiches, orange juice, and water were all provided in abundance. All of the officials treated us with the utmost courtesy, were constantly concerned about our well being. Even the two medical doctors, specialists in sports medicine, who were present throughout the four days of the tournament, graciously offered their assistance to us should we need it. Of course we thanked them all in person, and I again thank them here.
In the Men’s Team final, our U.S. men met Cuba’s A players—Betancourt, Bravo, and Baro. Reportedly they train “four hours a day, six days a week. Raul Betancourt, their #1, was rated somewhat higher than the others, probably around 2400. They all had a strong offensive chop and very good serves. In fact, Betancourt, a righty penholder, had really excellent serves. On the ‘wood side’ of his paddle he had three different surfaces—one long pips, one short pips, one antispin—any three of which he could accurately choose and use at will for serves, or chops back from the table. (He will probably change this racket in the future, as it was pointed out to him that it is illegal; that a sheet of rubber must be one piece, uncut. [But the officials let him play with it anyway, huh?]”
“Brian had a lot of trouble reading Betancourt’s serves, and lost to him—the only player he lost to—both in the Team’s and the Singles. Quang, too, had some trouble getting used to his serves, but after the first game was able to read them and so defeat this #1. The fact that the Cuban team did not have good short games made it easier for both Brian and Quang to play against them and take the offensive. Furthermore, most of them had trouble against Brian’s Sriver-Killer, so Brian was able to win most of the quick counter points. Betancourt was the exception, though—he seemed to have had lots of experience against Sriver-Killer and when Brian used it, surprisingly it was to the Cuban’s advantage.”
“The thing that seemed to shock the Cuban team the most was Quang’s quickness of play. They all said, ‘He’s just too fast.’ Their reaction to Roger, on the other hand, was just the reverse. In the beginning, only we knew that he was about to play the first game of his first team match against an opponent who would be rated maybe 700 points above him. [Still, weak as Roger was, I presume it was more formally fitting, more diplomatic, that we fielded three rather than two players.] Nervous and rather embarrassed at the unexpected turn of events which put him out there at all, Roger soon found himself down 18-0. Then he got his first point and the crowd went wild, giving him a rousing cheer and a three-minute ovation. This was very heartwarming to all of us, and gave us our first indication of the support and good fellowship we could expect from the spectators.
However, after that disastrous 21-3 first game defeat, Roger pulled himself together, his initial ‘panic’ left him, and from then on, though he didn’t win any games, he was able to concentrate on each point, and did as well as he could.”
“Bui’s match with Betancourt was big for the U.S. With the tie 3-3 and 1-1 in games, Quang came through. ‘I thought to myself,’ he said, ‘that this third game will probably be the biggest game of my life because the gold medal depends on the outcome.’ Quang then got off to a stunning 8-1 lead. He was controlling Betancourt’s serves, and, since the Cuban never did play well when he was down, he started giving up, and Quang beat him easily at 9. Brian then scored a two-straight eighth-match win to give the U.S. men a matching gold with the women.” Up 17-9 in that deciding second game against Bravo, Brian said, “I suddenly heard a strange noise behind me. I looked to see what was going on. It was the Cuban coach—he was crying.”
In the Men’s individual matches, Brian had a momentary scare in the quarter’s. “In his first game against the Cuban chopper, he was down 20-15. At the beginning, Brian had been looping, but his arm and back were sore and he couldn’t get too much power in his loops, so he changed his style—pushed with a lot of spin-change and just waited for the easy set-up, and so came back to win six straight points, and then the next game as well. But again, in the semi’s, Brian, though this time contesting in three, lost to the winner, Betancourt.”
“Quang, too, had his difficulties in the Individual play. His playing arm, which had started to bother him during the Team matches, was becoming increasingly more painful to use. Not only was he not able to topspin well because of the pain, he was not able to fully concentrate on his game. Later I remarked that he must have felt really bad at losing in the first round to a player—Lamorena of the Cuban B team—he’d beaten in the Team’s, particularly after his win over Betancourt had made him the favorite to take the Singles. ‘Yes,’ Quang said, ‘I did feel pretty bad. But, after all, the Team title was more important to me than any Individual title.’ (Quang and Brian also lost the Doubles, in deuce games, to two Cubans who’d not played against them in the Team’s.).”
Quang said, “My biggest moment came at the award ceremony when our team went up and they raised our flag and played our Anthem. However, I felt a little less bad at losing when I saw how happy all the Cuban players and the people in the stadium were at also being able to see the Cuban flag raised and the Cuban Anthem played, for, after all, a tournament like this does emphasize Friendship first.”
Sylvia echoed Quang’s sentiments. “I watched our Men’s Team and then our Women’s Team stand in the first place of honor to receive the gold medals and team trophies. Then, as our flag was raised and our National Anthem played, I saw the entire stadium stand in respect. And I felt the tears flow—tears of happiness and pride and perhaps a little sadness that we would soon be leaving the many people who had shown us such overwhelming kindness, hospitality, and genuine friendship.”
First World Veterans)
Championships
The first World Championships for Veterans (that is, for players over 40, 50, 60, 70 (and later 80), was organized by the couldn’t-be-more-solicitous and indefatigable Hans Westling of Sweden. His year-long dedication to these Championships earned him everyone’s admiration. I then did my part by organizing a U.S. contingent to the host country Sweden, though getting some flak from an unnamed USTTA official for devoting space in Topics to a tournament that he said would have limited interest to the readership. However, among those who wished us good luck was former USTTA President Graham Steenhoven of “Ping-Pong Diplomacy” fame. The tournament drew entries from 23 countries to the appropriately named Valhalla Sport-Centre in Gothenburg. It was a play-hard, happy-time Junk Rubber Festival that for years to come would be the most attended tournament in the world.
Technically, it was an ITTF “unofficial” World Championship—“unofficial” because it didn’t have the imprimatur that the old (and much less ambitious) Jubilee Cup event at the World’s had. But now that the prestigious Swaythling Club International has given its patronage to these Championships, and as several countries have quickly followed up with bids to run the next Veterans tournament, it seems likely it will be held every two years (in the same year as the European Championships).
It also seems likely (as I know from representing the U.S. at the Swaythling Club meetings) that from now on players will only be allowed to enter one age group. Why this limitation? One reason is that many thought four straight days of 6-8 Singles/Doubles matches a day was just too fatiguing. But the best argument was that if the tournament proves as successful as it’s anticipated to be, and would be held, say, in Germany (52 men/women came from Germany to Gothenburg), there would literally be a 1,000 players in the draw—and how, without giving up the popular preliminary round robins, could any organizer handle that? [Flash to the new millennium and organizers of this highly successful tournament will handle those 1,000 players and many, many more.] Another alternative was to limit the number of participants from each country—but here in Sweden, where there are over 100 clubs each represented by more than 200 players, that idea was not seriously pursued.
There was also a discussion whether disabled players (a Japanese with one leg played here with the help of a crutch, another guy had a wooden leg), particularly disabled players in wheelchairs, should be allowed to participate. Some thought not, especially since those players already had their own World Championships.
Getting umpires was a problem. Some reporting daily for the 2,000 matches were too young. “Yes,” agreed the organizers, “but how many adults could take off work? We had to go to the schools.” No wonder then the rules weren’t always enforced as they should have been. ‘There were thousands of bad serves here,” complained our own Bob Kaminsky. “Yes,” said the organizers, “but that’s a problem all over the world. At the recent European Championships not one player was reprimanded.” Much discussion centered around the incredible diversity of the rackets, some of them home-made. “Hundreds of combination rackets here would not meet ITTF specifications,” lamented one fellow, shaking his head.
But Bohdan Dawidowicz, who’d been a strong player in his native Poland, said not only for Americans but for participants from everywhere, “This is beautiful—all these old people playing. Son of a gun. So much friendly smile. No like mad—throw away rackets. Nice ladies and gentlemen.”
The tournament really did have class—it offered near-the-playing-site pleasant accommodations, and at the serious-minded opening ceremonies Japan’s just-turned- 81 Yaichiro Yamamoto and Sweden’s 1954 World Singles runner-up Tage Flisberg were honored to put on a short exhibition. There were presentations by Swaythling Club President, Ireland’s Joe Veselsky, and Treasurer, Switzerland’s Hugo Urchetti.
North America was represented by 13 Americans and 1 Canadian who, along with some of their spouses, made the trip. We had in all a party of 20, including the Bellaks’ friends Jimmy and Kay O’Connor (he was California Champ in ’33 and helped the newly-formed USTTA break away from the Parker Brothers Ping-Pong Association). There were preliminary rounds in all age brackets and in both singles and doubles play. Those who came 1st or 2nd in these four-player/or pair “pools” advanced to the single-elimination Championship proper; those who came 3rd or 4th competed in the Consolation.
Preliminary Play
Over 40’s: All seven of our Men’s Over 40 players qualified for Championship Singles play—immediately beat out half the 247-entry field. Not bad, eh? 1971 U.S. Team member Errol Resek, Bohdan Dawidowicz and I, Tim, were 3-0—though to my surprise I was seeded #2 in my pool and just did win out, 27-25 in the third, over the Swedish #1 seed. Canada’s longtime international Derek Wall hadn’t touched a racket in five months, then before coming here had played 12 straight days. Troubled by a strange insomnia, he lost a match to one of the many routinely-good German players, but had no trouble advancing. Getting in, too, with 2-1 records were our Sarajevo World’s U.S. Team Captain Kaminsky, Leon Ruderman (he’d lost a match to England’s Derek Schofield who was later to get to the semi’s of the Over 50’s), and Mort Zakarin who, comparing my draw with his, got quite a kick out of being seeded #1 in his pool.
In the Men’s Doubles, in which no U.S. player was paired with another, all seven teams made it into the 64-teams Championship Bracket
In the 27-entry Women’s Over 40 Singles, Yvonne Kronlage who, before the tournament started, had been in London the same time as Wall, advanced—beating out players from Japan, Sweden, and Germany. Evelyn Zakarin, however, had a nightmare of a pool. Her opponents? Former World Mixed Doubles Champion Kazuko Ito, the eventual winner of this Over 40 Women’s Singles; the Swede Wannehed who’d reach the semi’s before losing to Ito; and Edith Santifaller, the Captain of the Italian Women’s Team. Not even practicing with Mort could help her win a match.
Evelyn, expecting the worst, didn’t enter the Over 40 Doubles. But Yvonne did, and with her Swedish pick-up partner Pettersson came second in her pool to stay in contention for the gold.
Over 50’s. Wall and I and Ruderman (with wife Phyllis rooting for him) zipped 3-0 into the Championship 50’s. And both Mort and Hawaii’s Jerry Hock (whose wife Ruth accompanied him) advanced by finding a way out of a three-way tie for last. But both Bill Hornyak, despite winning two matches, was less fortunate and didn’t qualify, along with Arkansas’ Paul Vancura. Paul and his wife Mary had to be surprised when the Tournament Committee sought them out as they were breakfasting at the hotel. Yes, certainly, Mr. Vancura had been put into the 50 Singles as he’d last-minute requested, and even now his 8 o’clock match was being held up. Could he please finish his toast and come right over?
Of course in the Doubles, Wall and I, one of the favorites, got through the Pre-lims easily, as did Leon and his Swedish partner Jonsson. But Hock, playing with an Austrian, came third; and Vancura and his Swede, and Zakarin with a Finnish turkey, came last. Oh, well, finishing fourth in one pool was Hasegawa and Ito.
There were only 16 women in the Over 50 Singles—but though Evelyn knocked out a Swede, the best she could do was third in her bracket. And third again with her Swedish partner Wetterstrom in the Doubles.
Over 60’s. Seventy-one entries in the Men’s Over 60’s—and both Laszlo “Laci” Bellak and Bill Hornyak advanced to the Championship draw.
Laci, who’s a born story-teller, was often reminiscing. He’d talk about how particular the players are now about the balls they use. “When I was learning the game in Hiungary,” he said, “we’d play with a ball till it cracked, then we’d glue it back together and play on—over layer after layer of paint that had coated all the tables down through the years.”
Or he’d talk about the places he and his friend Barna had toured. In Bombay they had a percentage of the gate. And what do they see on walking into the stadium? 5,000 people! “We’re rich!” screams Laci. “Victor, we’re rich!” Until of course they find out that the admission price isn’t more than a penny.
Bill, too, was having a great time—the more so because this week he’d celebrated his 65th birthday—and 42 years of marriage to Liz. For years Bill’s been teaching part-time air-conditioning, heating, and refrigeration at the maximum security Indiana State Prison, and Liz says she always worries if he’s even five minutes late for lunch. “I was the only one who applied for the job,” Bill said. “They need someone in there”—I think he meant someone who knew how to start a table tennis club.
Not advancing but not giving up either were Hock and Vancura. (Poor Paul, he just got squeezed out on points.)
In the Doubles, all the Americans, each with a new but invariably courteous partner, qualified for the eighth’s.
In the 12-entry Women’s Over 60, Liz Hornyak did not advance. In fact, in another sense, ahe found herself going back with some of these Europeans to 1926, the year of the first World Championships, and remembering when she used to cuddle up all warm with her grandmother in a bed over an oven in a house in a little village outside Budapest. The more Liz apologized to Ursula Bihl, her German Over 60 Doubles partner, the better they played—won two matches and moved into the semi’s!
Over 70’s. In the Men’s Over 70’s, three-time World Singles finalist Bellak, as expected, won all his Singles matches. Ditto in the Doubles. Although Laci was playing in four events he never seemed to tire. “I need an 18-year-old girl,” he said once when he was holding hands wit his wife Lily. And once when an innocent asked him if he had any children, he smiled and replied quickly, hopefully, “Maybe next year.”
Consolation Medals
Three Americans, whatever their age bracket, were able to win for losing. Jerry, stretching his game, or at least his borrowed USTTA sweatsuit (thanks again, Bowie Martin), teamed with the Austrian Bolena (winner of the Men’s Over 50 Consolation) to tie for third in the Men’s Over 50 Doubles Consolation. Paul, who rewarded himself with a much autographed USTTA pennant, a memento of the trip to hang up on the wall of his Arkansas Club Tickey’s, was runner-up in the Over 60’s Singles Consolation. And Liz got a bronze for sharing third place in Women’s Over 60’s Consolation.
Men’s Over 40
Championships
Bohdan, who comes from Lwow, the same town in Poland as Bernie Bukiet (now there’s an Over 60 Champion—somebody sponsor him, please) got by his first-round opponent Johansson in three games. (No, that’s not Kjell Johansson—though, take warning, he’s informed everyone that in two years he’ll be 38 and plans to go into training for the 1986 Senior World’s.)
In the second round, Bohdan drew Persson, a very good Swedish player who, despite an unorthodox grip, could push, loop, and put away a backhand. Dawidowicz, up 16-12 in the first, lost six in a row and eventually the game at deuce. Then, in the second, he got off to a terrible start, was down 5-0, and Persson, all confidence, looped and hit in low balls and there was nothing Bohdan could do. When finally this Swede got beat, there were only four of the 247 left.
Watching Dawidowicz drop his one knee so close to the floor as he chopped reminded me of the trouble Leon had been having with a fractured cartilage in his knee. “It’s either surgery or be crippled,” his doctor had said. “The bone’s being eaten up.” So, back in February, Leon had had the operation, and was only able to come to Gothenburg because he’d worked hard. Back to the wall on an exercise table, he’d been encouraging his quadriceps with 20-pound barbells. Or off the table he’d swing into the hamstring-machine stirrups and do 60 repetitions of this, 100 of that. Also, three times a week he’d be faithfully doing his two-mile run. Wonder is he had enough energy to play t.t. at all.
Yes, he lost in the first round of the Singles—but 2-1 to Skultety, a clubmate of Persson. Before losing in the eighth’s, Skultety went on to upset Gomolla, one of the Over 40 favorites whom Scott Boggan for one had yet to beat in repeated league play in Germany.
I lost in the first round to Thorinsson, a Swede whom I had 10-6 in the third. Damned if my glasses didn’t suddenly slip down over my nose. 10-7. If, unbelievable, they didn’t slip down again, so that in mid-point I quick hurled them off to the side of the court, 10-8. Then I pushed, pushed, pushed my bat into the table edge, 10-9. Then from 14-all I couldn’t win. A sad tale.
Next round, Thorinsson had Bjorne Mellstrom, former Jubilee Cup winner and an ex-member of the Swedish National Team, 16-12 in the third before losing. Mellstrom, incidentally, in the Pre-lims had been down 15-2 in the first, 18-5 in the second, to the German Hubner, one of the Over 40 favorites. And who do you think was flipping his racket, or trying to? That’s right—the loser.
Mort was soon as first-round dead in the 40’s as I was, and since it was so hot in this Valhalla we were ready to hurry out to get some culture. Culture. A few days before the tournament we’d been tourists in Copenhagen, and on a sightseeing tour had learned how the well-known Carlsberg Foundation had spent a Danish brewer’s fortune on “enlightenment” (supporting museums, for example). Round the neck of a Tuborg beer bottle there would be a little printed collar of high-school facts which, if you squinted, you might read even as you guzzled. (Question: What’s the biggest, heaviest statue? Answer: The Statue of Liberty in New York.) So if, like the Danes, I’d ask Mort, “Are you about ready now for some culture?” I wouldn’t expect him to hurry off to the centuries-old collection of masterpieces at the Rosenberg Castle but to accompany me to the nearest bar for a quick cold one.
Bob Kaminsky won his first-round match—but perhaps that was because before coming to Gothenburg he’d stopped off at the Silver Star Club in Geneva where his fighting spirit had been aroused. He’d arrived at the Club on a Friday night and of course wanted to know if he could play. Turns out he’d have to ask the President of the Club. “O.K.,” said Bob amiably, and then, as if still wearing his fez with its different-colored, different-shaped, different-country pins all over it, like war decorations, he let it be known that he was our General at the Sarajevo World’s and would be back soon. When he returned on Tuesday and asked, “Well, can I play?” he was told, “You can play on Mondays.”
Bob’s picture was not in the Valhalla program, but the guy who beat him in the second round, Sweden’s former Austrian Open winner Toni Larsson, was.
Resek, in getting to the eighth’s, made the best showing of the Americans. His first-round match he won two straight. But in the second, he lost the first game at 19 to Magnusson, a Swedish chopper. Said Errol, “I’m putting the ball away, or think I am, until I see this guy getting every one back, deep, with no spin, and it’s becoming harder and harder to get that ball down and keep it from floating off the table.” But as someone cheering Resek on through the second and third games put it, “Just watching Errol is a lesson in table tennis—just the way he handles the ball.”
Resek’s third-round opponent, one of 37 players representing England, was Ralph Gunnion, a former member of the National Team whom Errol beat in straight games. In the round before, Gunnion had taken out Germany’s Erich Arndt two straight. So, who was Arndt? Just ask Derek Wall who’s played for 35 years in roughly 90 countries. “In 1963, in Prague,” said Derek, “Arndt won all three against North Korea. And Arndt, Gomolla, and Scholer put up a very good fight in the semi’s of the Team’s against the Chinese—Chuang Tse-tung, Li Fu-jung, and Chang Shih-lin.” Now Arndt, who attended a private little goodwill German/American dinner, says he can’t play anymore, says his back is killing him. But he can still generate a lot of sidespin on both wings.
In the eighth’s, Errol ran into a “spoiler” in George Evans, who might still be on the Welsh National Team if his age weren’t counted against him. In the ’80 Commonwealth Games he beat another Errol—Canada’s Errol Caetano. Evans has a “funny” racket, often switches it on you, and his shots come soft. After losing the first, Errol won the second by cracking the ball. But then in the deciding third he played too carefully. He should have at least rolled the ball, he said later, because whenever he tried to push, Evans would sooner or later flip his racket, get Resek to pop the ball up, and hit in a winner. “I lost to a bat,” moaned Errol.
Wall also made it to the eighth’s—but not without a struggle. His best win was over Norlin, a very strong Swede who looked to me like he might be the leader of a motorcycle gang. Fit or not, Derek played some damn gutsy deuce-in-the-third points to finally win this match. In the next round, though , the fourth in just a couple of hours, red-faced Derek just didn’t have enough culture or anything to make a contest of it with Denmark’s Freddy Hansen who’d go on to be the runner-up in these Singles.
In the Doubles, Resek was supposed to play with George Brathwaite, but “The Chief” had sent up more than one smoke signal he wasn’t coming. Thus Errol, partnered with a Frenchman (no, the Tournament Committee wouldn’t let him play with Dawidowicz—he’d already been assigned a partner), was doomed from the start.
Now that he was out of the tournament, Errol thought it’d be nice if Derek would take a pic of him with Kjell Johansson—you know, something to take back to his club in Alaska. Derek was willing, but a little old man kept getting in the way and smiling. Finally Derek told him nicely to “F--- off!” Only later did he find out that this little old man was Stellan Bengtsson’s father.
Errol was not only into picture-taking, he wanted to exchange souvenirs with the other players. On presenting one Japanese with a USTTA badge or decal or whatever (thanks again, Bill Haid), he so caught the fellow off guard that, looking frantically on and all about his person, the man finally thrust a roll of film into Errol’s startled hands.
Mort, too, with his eccentric, visored partner, was quickly out of the Doubles. As for Kaminsky, partnered with Ludvig, he could scarcely have had time to improve his German. Know how Ruderman got interested in table tennis? It’s more interesting than talking about his first-round Doubles loss. Back in the 1940’s, Leon was Captain of his New York City High School chess team and was one of the top 10 high school players to compete in a special city-wide tournament. Some of the others? The Byrne brothers, Arthur Bisguire, and Larry Evans—names now known of course to every chess buff. What was Leon’s score in the round robin tournament? Out of 9 points possible, he got ½--that is, he lost 8 matches, drew 1. Utterly devastated, he wandered out of the Manhattan Chess Club and into Herwald Lawrence’s Broadway Table Tennis Courts…to watch (who else, they played 10 hours a day) Miles and Reisman. He was so fascinated he took to playing in the Tuesday night Handicap event. Ruderman +17, Reisman -9. Who would you have bet on?
Derek and I downed two more teams to get to the quarter’s of the Over 40 Doubles before losing in straight games (I played horribly) to the eventual runner-ups Borg and Mellstrom. Our best win was against the Hungarians—former World Champion Sido, who someone was telling me once coached the Chinese Team, and his partner “Piggy” Pignitsky, for a time in the 1960’s the Hungarian #1. At 20-19 match point in the second, as I never tired of telling everyone, I hit in a low ball—a perfect cross-court, diamond-point finish.
The winners of the Over 40 Doubles were the German favorites, Hubner, a 44-year-old who looked maybe 25, and Gomolla who, pushing 50, was so flexible, so perpetually bouncy out there on court, that it was fascinating to watch him
In the Over 40 quarter’s of the Singles, Evans, the Welshman who’d beaten Errol, had Hansen 17-12 in the third—but couldn’t hold on to win. Hansen had lost in the Pre-lims to Kleevian of Austria whom Noller, a German advancing now to the semi’s over Persson, had beaten. Good thing for Noller that Kleevian had been too Alps-sunshine-bright for England’s “Stan the Bat” Battrick since in the opening pool Noller had lost to The Bat (two straight, somebody said, under 10). In other quarter’s matches, England’s Adedayo, who along with Battrick you’ll hear more about shortly, just wasn’t tricky enough to oust the former German National Hubner. And the Japanese Hirai was just not as strong or intense as the sometimes angry-looking Austrian, Toni Hold.
Hansen preferred not the schnapps I heard Noller was drinking in between matches but the warm Danish culture he carried round in his bag (to be drunk only at the end of the day’s competition?). Maybe he won 2-1 in the semi’s because he has a little more hold over himself than the Austrian?
A week earlier, in the 450-entry German Senior Championships, Hubner (who has or has not “funny” rubber on his forehand, depending on who you talk to) had beaten his doubles partner Gomolla before losing in the final in deuce games to former World Singles runner-up Eberhard Scholer (who couldn’t play here because he had another table tennis commitment—a European Youth Conference in Vienna). In the other semi’s, this same Hubner came from a game behind to beat Noller.
In the first game of the final, Hansen, wearing a ‘Citroen” shirt, is up 18-15 and playing a steady push game when he gets a break, an irretrievable net. Hubner reacts to this with a curse and walks away to compose himself. When he comes back he serves into the table edge. Then, hearing someone clap at this, he looks into the stands and shakes his head in disgust.
In the second game, Hansen up 14-6 appears to be the winner. But slowly the heat seems to get to him, the points are long—for though he can hit from either side and is therefore a favorite if the match goes to expedite, he has to be careful about picking an opening. Hubner keeps creeping up on him and finally wins the game. So now they’ve got to play the deciding third. Over in Hansen’s corner a friend is pouring water down his back. Never mind water says Freddy, “I need beer.”
He needs something—and not the jerky, half-stop forehand he’s now trying. But tired as he is, he doesn’t give up. At 16-9 Hubner, the Expedite Rule is brought in. My last image of the youthful German is hitting in a 19-10 down-the-line forehand that sends him running around in a triumphant circle.
After it was all over, what could Hansen say? Only that he had been in full control of the match, but Hubner had kept trying. “Sometimes,” he said, “something can happen—and this time it did.”
Women’s Over 40.
The Women’s Over 40 final went to, as everyone knew it would, Japan’s Ito—over Sweden’s Tegner. In the first round of this event, Yvonne drew one of the best Japanese flat hitters, Omiro, Ito’s winning Doubles partner, and against her fast pen-hold attack she had no chance. However, in the Doubles, Yvonne and the Swede Pettersson did away with a German/Italian team to reach the final and take home a silver medal.
Men’s Over 50
Ruderman on the flight over had been talking to U.S. tennis players going to the World Senior Championships in Athens (their Association selects them, however). Perhaps they gave him a pointer or two, for Leon downed one of those 200 Swedes, 2-0. But in the second round he lost a killer, 19 in the third, to Rune Forsberg, who’d be the Over 50 Singles finalist in our upcoming U.S. Open.
Had Leon won he would have played Wall, who took care of Forsberg in straight games. In the quarter’s, against the Japanese Yamada, Derek, up 13-9 in the third, strangely did not think himself a winner. “It’s not very often I choke,” he said, admitting to what few would admit to, “but today I did.” And this after his great clutch win over Norlin, a younger and much superior player to Yamada.
Anyway, what’s a loss? Derek always had another story to tell. This one about Bergmann—how after beating Schiff in the quarter’s he went on to win the World Championships. And what a trophy he got. Not his to permanently keep, however. So when the next World Championships rolled around, the Tournament Committee wanted Richard to return it so they could put it on display. Slight problem, though. No reflection on its worth, you understand, it’s just that Bergmann didn’t have it—he’d pawned it. Of course everyone asked him why in the world he’d done that. “Why?” he said. “Why?...Because I have to live.” At least he kept the pawn ticket.
I also got to the quarter’s—and was later pleased to hear my friend Nisse Sandberg say, “I’ve never seen you play better.” My first match was on a feature table against a Swede, Mattiasson—a hard bat player who kept getting a hell of a lot of balls back. I won the first easily—but he steadied in the second, fought for the offense, and I was ad down—at which point I got in a good serve and follow. Again I was ad down and again I hit in a low ball that made the crowd roar and my opponent smile, shrug, and say, “Impossible!” He had too much poise to suit me—and, sure enough, I still lost the game. In the third, though, I got off to a lead and, sometimes even far back from the table returning from side to side, I puffingly held on to it.
I then fully expected to play Sido (whom I’d upset in the 1971 Jubilee Cup at the Nagoya World’s), but apparently he couldn’t handle the combination bat of my next opponent, Wicksell, who I had such little difficulty with that I thought maybe Sido deliberately dumped to him. But of course why would he do that?
Trouble, trouble in my quarter’s match, though, against Uno Hedin—past or present President of the Swedish Table Tennis Academy and Mr. Table Tennis, at least on Radio Sweden. A very popular fellow. He had a decent Phantom defense and favored his backhand—always looked to snap through a winner. I’d say he was about 2300. Down 1-0 and 18-12 in the second, things did not look good for me. But, what the hell, again I was at a feature table and figured I owed it to myself and everybody else to give it the old head-down charge. Miraculously I scored on five straight 3rd or 5th-ball attacks and ended up winning the game.
I do believe I shook up not only Hedin’s followers cheering in the adjacent stands but Hedin himself. He popped up two balls at the start of the third—and I missed them both. Had I smacked both of them in, I think I’d have had a chance. As it was, after being down 10-6 at the turn and in the process of losing some more points, I let out a vicious curse or two sotto voce (or maybe not so sotto voce). I hope later I sufficiently assured my opponent who took offense that I didn’t mean him personally the slightest ill will. At any event he quickly recovered and went on to win the Championship
Mort did not get to the quarter’s—but neither did a lot of other people. The eighth’s match in his section of the draw, between Battrick and Adedayo, was the center of everyone’s attention. They were both English players whose games were well known to one another (though Adedayo had never beaten Battrick in a tournament).
“Stan the Bat” Battrick plays every day and just as often is more likely to change the wood on his racket rather than the rubber. He looks like an enthusiastic Y player, with a grip to match, and intensely, interminably keeps pushing, pushing, or rolling, rolling (for with his stroke he can’t kill the ball). “Oh,” said a good player, “I’d rather play Klampar and his big loop and lose than play “Stan the Bat.”
Adedayo, who got to the quarter’s of the 40’s, quite fancied his game—though until he’d switched rackets, went with the technology of the times, he was said to be a mediocre player. The only piece of identification, other than his special racket, Adedayo could produce (he had no driver’s license) was a passport that said he was 49—which in this Over 50 event quite naturally caused more than one player, one tournament official, to, well, flip. Adedayo said this reference to his age was a mistake, that he was really 50, and that he’d given himself and his table tennis friends a birthday party earlier in the year to prove it.
There was the option of getting Nigeria on the phone, have someone try to pick up what probably would not be an easily accessible copy of his birth certificate. It was an awkward situation—especially because Adedayo happened to be the only black in the 450-entry field. Naturally Hans Westling called the English TTA. They seemed convinced that Adedayo was telling the truth. But just in case he wasn’t, they wanted him to understand that it would go hard for him, that he’d have trouble finding players to play with in England, and that he’d be barred from tournaments for more than a year—perhaps even until the next World Championships. Adedayo was pleased. “This decision is quite correct,” he said.
So, o.k., they let him play—but at the next World Veterans, they said, everyone would need a valid passport.
After all this, Adedayo did not upset Battrick. “Stan the Bat” pushed right through him, deuce in the third.
In the semi’s, Hedin had more three-game difficulty—with the Englishman Schofield—so it was thought that though the Swede’s game looked far better than The Bat’s it might not, this first meeting, be better. But Hedin handled him very carefully, made few mistakes, and—surprise—was not only giving The Bat serves he had trouble returning, but was repeatedly able to snap in his point-winning backhand. At the end, then, it was not “Stan the Bat” but Hedin who was flying through the air, thrown up, jolly good fellow, by his clubmates.
In the Over 50 Doubles, Ruderman and his partner, Thornqvist, having advanced to the quarter’s, were attacked by The Bat, the slow beating of its wings, as it were, and another Englishman with the unusual name of Donlon Leon—and they did not survive. As for Hornyak and his partner, whatever junk they were using between them wasn’t first-round enough. Did you know, by the way, that in 1942 Bill was U.S. #24? And that he quit the game for a quarter-century? Now look at him—heart blockage unblocked—he’s meddling in international competition.
The story in the 50 Doubles was whether Derek and I could win the event—we knew we had a chance. Although the rackets I was playing against and the strategy I was to use against them was all an I-don’t-care mystery to me, Derek did try to help me out with an occasional word or two of advice. “My god, man, how long have you been playing this f---ing game? I told you, he’s got inverted on his forehand and Feint on his backhand. You’re to play the ball to his forearm. You got that? His forearm. You just played the ball to his backhand. Don’t you see he doesn’t switch? I can’t loop the bloody thing against this guy’s funny rubber. You’ve got to get me the inverted side, then if the ball comes up you can put it away.”
Or, again, when occasionally Derek would ask me in the heat of an end game what serve I wanted him to give, I would as often as not hyper out, “I don’t care. Serve. Serve.”
So what happened? Nothing much until the semi’s when against the English team of Sheader and Schofield (in the 40 Doubles they had taken out Dawidowicz and his partner) we were 1-1 and down 13-9. Then, although I’d been awful up till then (”Well, we can’t win,” said a disgusted Derek), his usual unusual encouragement prompted me to get in a streak of shots that had him back high-spirited, and we won.
So now in the final we faced the Swedes Kinstedt and Osterholm who’d been 2-1 struggling all the way. They didn’t look very good—Osterholm was white-haired and looked old enough to me to be in his 60’s. In the 40’s he’d come dead last in the Pre-lims—but had then won the Consolation. In the 50’s he was beaten in the second round by Kinstedt, his Doubles partner. Kinstedt’s Singles record was o.k.—in the 40’s he’d lost to a Japanese, so qualified second; but then on advancing caught Hubner. In the 50’s, he’d lost to another top-spinning Japanese. However, not to be overlooked was the fact that these Swedes had taken a game from Hubner and Gomolla, the winners of the Over 40 Doubles.
This 50 Doubles final was played at the worst possible time for us—it was the very last final, late in the afternoon, and we’d been waiting, watching other finals in that hot hall since noon. Derek, particularly, I thought, needed some air, but the two of us went out only for a short time. When the match was finally ready to start, the old Swede was looking at me with a scowl, and when Derek asked to see his racket, he only quite grudgingly allowed him to. Definitely the guy wanted to win.
From the first point we knew we might have a problem. Derek served, Kinstedt pushed, I pushed back, Osterholm push-returned, and, as Derek was thinking about looping,, the ball began to zig-zag. So no looping off the old guy’s ball. If we got beat, it was going to be him that beat us.
The first game of the 2/3 final couldn’t have been closer. At 28-27 our favor, I finally got in an on-the-run forehand down the line. But the last half of the second game we couldn’t contest.
In the third, we were down at the turn, but, helped by a succession of errors on their part, we strongly rallied, went 16-12 up. Now a long point, which we not only lost but which turned the match against us. “Sometimes something can happen,” Hansen had said referring to his final. It did now to us. For after Derek had failed to return the ball on that 16-12 point, one of our players, intent on the match, called out, “Watch the spin, Derek!”
NO!
Derek stopped play, went over to the stands, wagged his finger at the “offender” and said (to this lesser player), “Don’t you tell me about spin!” When he came back we lost three points in a row (with Derek unable to defend well as I perhaps strategically relied too much on him). Then, after I’d got in a forehand that ticked the net and brought a curse from the old guy, the score was 19-all. I wanted to take a shot, but nothing looked halfway good to me, so I unimaginatively, predictably followed our pattern of playing into Kinstedt’s backhand. But then he stepped around and got in a topspin which Derek didn’t return. Same for the next and last point (“Oh,” said Leon later. “I could see this guy keep inching over and I wanted to call to you, “Put it to the other side!”)
I really took the loss pretty hard, apparently much more so than Derek did. I could tell from the expression on people’s faces what they saw in mine. Kaminsky instinctively wanted to take a picture of the silver medalists—but I didn’t want then to oblige and he quickly backed off. Hans Westling didn’t know what to say—he looked stunned. [Coincidently, 20 years later at the World Veterans in Vancouver, in the 2/3 quarter’s of the 70’s, I was up 1-0 and at deuce in the second with this same Swede, Osterholm, and, again playing cautiously at deuce, I lost, while he went on, as Hedin did before him, to win the event. Worse, I was again in the final of the 70 Doubles (this time with Ruderman), and up 1-0 with a lead in the second, and again lost, though repeatedly patting Leon on the back trying to give him encouragement. Again Westling was stunned. It’s said that nobody remembers who came second—but I sure de-ja vu do.]
Women’s Over 50
Two Japanese fought it out in the final—with Miyagowa winning 22, -17, 19 over Tasaka. Doubles went to Nakatsuka/Tsuboko over Sasaki/Tasaka, -16, 19, 8.
Men’s Over 60
Hornyak tried hard in the Over 60’s but didn’t have quite enough to get by Tsukamoto in three. And though Bellak beat a Japanese, England’s D’Arcy was too much for him. Still, there was always another story to tell. Vana? Of course, Laci, we all remember Vana—won the World’s in ’38 and ’47 (was runner-up in ’48 and ’49). In ’38, the World’s was at the Royal Albert Hall in London—and Vana came. So? “Well,” said Laci, “he came alone, from Czechoslovakia, and couldn’t speak a word of English. Worse yet, for some reason whoever was to meet him at the station didn’t show up. So Vana didn’t know what to do—he just walked around saying, ‘Ping-Pong?’...Ping-Pong?’ Of course the police soon picked him up (‘Ping-Pong?...Ping-Pong?’) as a vagrant and a loony. Finally, somebody made the connection and later Vana came back to that same train station as the World Champion. ‘It just shows you,’ said Laci, ‘you don’t have to have brains to play ping-pong.’”
In the Over 60 Doubles, Hornyak and his French partner Raymond Muyauw were giving it their all. Before losing to the winners, Neidenmark/Berggren of Sweden, they made the semi’s and took a bronze. Liz was so happy for Bill she almost ran down the aisle. Bellak and Urchetti beat Jerry Hock and his partner to get a bronze too. As for Vancura, at least he and his Belgian partner won a match and had the consolation of losing to the gold medalists.
Women’s Over 60’s
Singles winner was West Germany’s Bihl in straight-game succession over Sweden’s Lindstrom, fellow German Kuhn, and Japan’s Yamada. In the Women’s Over 60 Doubles, won by the Swedes Narting/Goransson over the Germans Koervers/Kuhn, Liz with favorable partner Bihl got her second bronze.
Women’s Over 70’s
England’s Lauder downed Sweden’s Sundqvist.. -17, 11, 12. Back when Lauder was Phyllis Hodgkinson, she played for runner-up England in the Corbillon Cup at the 1938 World’s. But in those days she preferred hockey to table tennis and toured Australia with an Anglo-Scottish team.
Men’s Over 70’s
The Japanese sent some strong players to this tournament. The 70 Singles was won by Nakamura over Kawakami. Doubtless it was a disappointment to Laci that he couldn’t win the Over 70’s. But he and Denmark’s Juhl didn’t drop a game in taking the Doubles. Best action was in the Singles quarter’s. There, helped, you might say, by some coaching from Ruderman, Laci did down Japan’s Sumino in three to win another bronze. Leon, who’s a professional hypnotist (he did some shows in Korea in ’52-’53 for our servicemen, and wanted to do his act on Laci, for he’d played this Phantom blocker in the Over 50 Pre-lims and knew how to beat him. Very close it was at the end of the third, and when Laci looked to him for advice, Leon was ready. “Give him a nothing ball!’ Leon fairly shouted. “No spin! No spin!” Bellak nodded. And twice served two heavy chops into Sumino’s stomach to win the match.
Afterwards, Laci comes over to thank Leon. Which thanks Leon simply accepts. Some hypnotist. Some story—sounds like one of Bellak’s own.
But of course, as the years pass, one reason why we all go to a tournament in Gothenburg (or anywhere else) is to tell others what happened on our trip, to remind them and ourselves that we were there, we mattered: we didn’t lose them all.
.
| |
| USA Table Tennis - Serving the Table Tennis Community |
| |