Score Has Reached 80-Love, and Kramer’s Still a Winner

Jack Kramer was the first man to win Wimbledon while wearing shorts, even though his tennis hero, Ellsworth Vines, reminded Kramer of Fred Astaire because of the graceful flow of Vines’ white flannel long pants.

Kramer is better known for the Wilson racket--the Jack Kramer model--than for helping spearhead an infamous Wimbledon boycott or for helping start the ATP, the association that governs pro tennis, or for devising the concept that has become the “Super Nine,” the series of tournaments leading to a season-ending gathering of the top players of the year.

Kramer can tell stories about the 1939 Davis Cup or the 1947 U.S. Open or about playing cards in hotel rooms and sharing a couple of station wagons while driving from arena to arena, barnstorming tennis style, with the likes of Pancho Gonzalez, Pancho Segura, Frank Parker and Bobby Riggs.

Kramer has a birthday today, which is a good time to be reminded of who Jack Kramer is. He is 80 years old and still a youngster according to his friends, Ted Schroeder and Segura.

“We turned 80 last month,” Schroeder said. “Jack’s a spring chicken.”

“We beat Jack to 80,” Segura said. “But tell Jack I wish him eternal happiness and, most of all, good health.”

As Kramer sat under an umbrella watching the quarterfinals of the Mercedes-Benz Cup, the men’s Los Angeles stop on the ATP Tour, it was clear he is in good health. And his happiness, while not yet eternal, was also evident.

“Look at that serve,” Kramer said. “Look at the size of that young man.”

The man in question was Marat Safin, defending U.S. Open champion. Safin was playing Xavier Malisse in the quarterfinals of the Mercedes-Benz Cup, the tournament run by Kramer’s son, Bob.

Kramer was fascinated. He had never seen Safin play in person and Kramer wanted to assess the powerful game of the Russian. Equally fascinating to Kramer was the chance to dissect the talent of top-seeded Gustavo Kuerten, who hadn’t played in Los Angeles before.

“I love watching the new kids come up,” Kramer said. “I love to see where the game is going.”

Kramer’s story is no secret, but on the occasion of a man’s 80th birthday, sometimes we all need a reminder, a recounting of history. For those who love tennis, Kramer is worth listening to.

The first story he told was of his trip to Merion Cricket Club in Philadelphia in 1939. Kramer was 18, freshly graduated from Montebello High and expecting nothing but the chance to be practice fodder for the U.S. Davis Cup team that was preparing to play Australia.

But, as Kramer remembered, the grass courts at Merion were bumpy and uneven. The ball was taking odd bounces. And he and his doubles partner, Joe Hunt, both tall, strong and young, were killing the competition. Kramer ended up playing in the match--”a surprise to me,” Kramer said. The Aussies won, but an 18-year-old got to play for his country.

And he was lucky to sleep on a bed and not on the floor, according to Schroeder, who would eventually team with Kramer in another Davis Cup, in another time, after World War II had interrupted. But in 1939, Schroeder was on the Junior Davis Cup team and practicing at another club in Philadelphia.

“I got a call from Jack,” Schroeder said. “He told me, ‘Ted, I’m going to be playing doubles and I’m scared to death. Come on over.’

“So I snuck over to Merion the night before he and Joe played doubles. We couldn’t sleep, neither of us, so we stayed up all night listening to the radio. It was the start of World War II and we stayed up all night listening. There was only one bed so one of us got the mattress, one got the box springs. I was magnificent. I gave Jack the mattress.”

There was lasting friendship among men such as Kramer, Schroeder, Segura and Riggs. They weren’t from wealth or privilege and weren’t able to keep playing the game they loved for a reward of only pride and a handshake.

They did what Kramer did in 1947. Kramer won Wimbledon and the U.S. Open, then he became a professional.

“I needed the money, simple as that,” Kramer said as he watched Safin. “So on the Wednesday night before the finals of the Open, I signed a contract for $50,000.

“I was playing Frankie Parker in the finals. The man who signed me to the contract, Jack Harris, was in the front row and he was bald. I lost the first two sets to Frankie and I looked over at Harris. All I could see was his bald head in his hands. He was thinking, ‘What have I done?’ He wanted to promote me as the best player in the world and I was going to lose this match.

“But I came back to win the next two sets 6-1, 6-0. I was up 5-3 in the fifth and serving. Frankie had an ad point and he hit a great volley. I got to the net, hit another volley and lucky for me it hit the line. You could see the chalk kick up and it was called good for deuce. Two points later I had held serve and won the match.

“If I had lost, it would have been hard to justify getting that contract.”

Kramer doesn’t live in the past. He must be prodded to talk about touring the country, playing in big and small arenas, against Riggs, Gonzalez, Parker and Segura. About how he beat Gonzalez, 96-27, during one tour and Riggs, 69-20. He would rather talk about how Kuerten plays under great control than to recount the 1973 Wimbledon boycott over issues of player freedom, of which Kramer was considered a ring leader.

He would much rather speak proudly of the health of today’s game than to speak boastfully of his part in pushing forward the pro tour. The barnstorming of Kramer and his friends in the late 1940s and early ‘50s played a big part in keeping tennis in the consciousness of the U.S. sporting public.

After three hip-replacement operations and arthritis in his back, Kramer has not played tennis in more than five years. His doctor would still like Kramer to play golf. “But I don’t,” he says.

With his deep tan, his clear blue eyes, with his straight back and firm handshake, it is easy to see the Kramer of 1947, the one with the strong first serve and a stronger second one, according to Segura. It is easy to envision the man with the iron consistency and penetrating accuracy.

Kramer doesn’t need to live in the past, but it’s not bad for the rest of us to remember it.

Segura says Kramer would still be a great coach. As Safin kicked away his match, suffering an upset loss to Malisse, Kramer was making mental notes. He had ideas about footwork and service motion. If Safin would only ask.

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Diane Pucin can be reached at dianepucin@latimes.com.