Of all the ``isms,'' implies this gossipy and savvy rundown on big-time tennis, commercialism may be the most subtly ruinous. Hitherto known as one of college basketball's better Boswells, Feinstein (A Season on the Brink, A Season Inside, Forever's Team) spent 1990 with the young professionals who make often-handsome livings on courts of quite another kind. By his account, few of the men and women on the global circuit (let alone their agents or tournament officials) can be described as sportive. With millions of dollars in prize money and endorsements for corporate sponsors at stake, touring pros and their supporting casts play the game for keeps. The long grind of the season starts in January with the Australian Open, the first of the so-called Grand Slam tournaments on which the author focuses, and ends in December with the Davis Cup final. In between, there are nearly 80 more sanctioned events for men and over 60 for women, plus countless opportunities to participate in lucrative exhibitions. As it happened, 1990 produced eight different Grand Slam champions and some very fine tennis. In covering the major contests, though, Feinstein leaves little doubt that the administrative policies of the game are as anarchic and self-seeking as those of boxing, a situation that helps explain the willful, mercenary bent of many star attractions. The author does not confine himself to muckraking, however. Indeed, he has kind (if blunt) words for such top seeds as Boris Becker, Chris Evert, Ivan Lendl, John McEnroe, and a host of lesser lights who have some appreciation of the cosmopolitan sport's traditions. Feinstein is obviously disturbed, though, by the increasing incidence of ``tanking'' (deliberately losing a match), TV dominance, conflicts of interest, and parental ultimatums. He's also bemused by the game's expedient approach to finance. For example, Zina Garrison (a talented black woman) couldn't buy an endorsement until she made the 1990 Wimbledon final, at which point her agent negotiated a $500,000, five-year deal with Reebok. An unsparing but engrossing audit of a sport that has yet to reckon the price of winning at any cost.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1991
ISBN: 0-394-58333-7
Page Count: 480
Publisher: Villard
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1991
An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.
A study of swimming as sport, survival method, basis for community, and route to physical and mental well-being.
For Bay Area writer Tsui (American Chinatown: A People's History of Five Neighborhoods, 2009), swimming is in her blood. As she recounts, her parents met in a Hong Kong swimming pool, and she often visited the beach as a child and competed on a swim team in high school. Midway through the engaging narrative, the author explains how she rejoined the team at age 40, just as her 6-year-old was signing up for the first time. Chronicling her interviews with scientists and swimmers alike, Tsui notes the many health benefits of swimming, some of which are mental. Swimmers often achieve the “flow” state and get their best ideas while in the water. Her travels took her from the California coast, where she dove for abalone and swam from Alcatraz back to San Francisco, to Tokyo, where she heard about the “samurai swimming” martial arts tradition. In Iceland, she met Guðlaugur Friðþórsson, a local celebrity who, in 1984, survived six hours in a winter sea after his fishing vessel capsized, earning him the nickname “the human seal.” Although humans are generally adapted to life on land, the author discovered that some have extra advantages in the water. The Bajau people of Indonesia, for instance, can do 10-minute free dives while hunting because their spleens are 50% larger than average. For most, though, it’s simply a matter of practice. Tsui discussed swimming with Dara Torres, who became the oldest Olympic swimmer at age 41, and swam with Kim Chambers, one of the few people to complete the daunting Oceans Seven marathon swim challenge. Drawing on personal experience, history, biology, and social science, the author conveys the appeal of “an unflinching giving-over to an element” and makes a convincing case for broader access to swimming education (372,000 people still drown annually).
An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.Pub Date: April 14, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-61620-786-1
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Algonquin
Review Posted Online: Jan. 4, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
While the author may attempt to mirror this ideal, the result is less than satisfying and more than a little irritating.
A disjointed debut memoir about how competitive swimming shaped the personal and artistic sensibilities of a respected illustrator.
Through a series of vignettes, paintings and photographs that often have no sequential relationship to each other, Shapton (The Native Trees of Canada, 2010, etc.) depicts her intense relationship to all aspects of swimming: pools, water, races and even bathing suits. The author trained competitively throughout her adolescence, yet however much she loved racing, “the idea of fastest, of number one, of the Olympics, didn’t motivate me.” In 1988 and again in 1992, she qualified for the Olympic trials but never went further. Soon afterward, Shapton gave up competition, but she never quite ended her relationship to swimming. Almost 20 years later, she writes, “I dream about swimming at least three nights a week.” Her recollections are equally saturated with stories that somehow involve the act of swimming. When she speaks of her family, it is less in terms of who they are as individuals and more in context of how they were involved in her life as a competitive swimmer. When she describes her adult life—which she often reveals in disconnected fragments—it is in ways that sometimes seem totally random. If she remembers the day before her wedding, for example, it is because she couldn't find a bathing suit to wear in her hotel pool. Her watery obsession also defines her view of her chosen profession, art. At one point, Shapton recalls a documentary about Olympian Michael Phelps and draws the parallel that art, like great athleticism, is as “serene in aspect” as it is “incomprehensible.”
While the author may attempt to mirror this ideal, the result is less than satisfying and more than a little irritating.Pub Date: July 5, 2012
ISBN: 978-0-399-15817-9
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Blue Rider Press
Review Posted Online: May 6, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2012
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