"I didn't want it getting out." But she got plenty of ink, and she got her first postmatch press conference at Wimbledon. Then they brought me in.
"Would you ever wear something like that?" one of the guys asked me.
"Nowhere you could see me," I said.
What do you know: I routined Ann Hobbs. No rain, and no controversy.
Because it's the mid-Sunday off day at Wimbledon, we had our Women's Tennis Association meeting. Chris, Martina and I sat together and passed silly notes like little kids. And who do you suppose wrote the most outrageous notes? Chris. How different she is away from the courts.
Am I cursed. It's not enough I get the first leotard against me; tomorrow I get the last Virginia Wade on Centre Court. Our Ginny says that if I knock her out she's through at Wimbledon. You can imagine how popular I am in England.
It was worse than I expected. After a while, during the changeovers, I'd walk back on court after Virginia went back out, to con myself into thinking that part of the applause was for me. Then, whenever I'd let myself start thinking how rotten it would be if I let a 39-year-old beat me, I'd imagine what the headlines would be the next day: OUR GINNY PINGS PAM; CHEERS, GINNY and A TOAST FOR GINNY! and all that. I could take losing easier than I could reading about it in the London press.
I won, even though I dropped the second set. That gave the crowd a cheap thrill, and I didn't show any distress or anger. That's my new, mature Centre Court behavior.