Now the pressure shifted to the wilting shoulders of Evert Lloyd. Jordan broke back for 5 all, helped by a let cord winner and a stop volley. After she won the first four points of the tiebreaker, which she ultimately closed out by the score of 7-2, she was home free, and the marvelous Evert Lloyd record was history.
The next afternoon Jordan sat in the players' tea room, munching on a lunch that would have knocked over three stevedores. Meanwhile, a couple of miles away, Evert Lloyd stayed abed at Willow Cottage, unable to shake the rubber from her legs. The London papers had screamed about Evert Lloyd's mystery bug, and Jordan was asked about her opponent's health. "Look, I respect Chris so much," she said, "that's why I wasn't more emotional at the end. I felt for her. Anybody would. She's a great champion, and she'll be back to win more of these. But it wouldn't look good for the rest of us if she won the Grand Slam. I'm proud of stopping that. And I don't want to hear about her being sick. I didn't even look at her. It doesn't matter to me if she couldn't walk. A win is a win."
By Sunday, as she waited for a massage at home and watched Richard Harris as Cromwell on the telly, Evert Lloyd seemed resigned to her fate. "I've got to feel this was meant to be; the virus was such a freak thing," she said. "It feels so strange, such a letdown to be out of the tournament. If I weren't in the doubles, I'd probably skip town. Now I have to sit around drinking tea and watching the girls play singles while I wonder what the hell happened."