Book Club: In the Details

!A Terrible Splendor - Cover Image This week freelance tennis writer Kamakshi Tandon and I will be discussing “A Terrible Splendor,” by Marshall Jon Fisher. The book, released this month, delves into one of the sport’s all-time classic matches, the 1937 Davis Cup showdown between Don Budge of the United States and Baron Gottfried von Cramm of Germany, played as the world readied for war.

Hi Steve,

It's always nice to be able talk about your favourite details, as opposed to the main details or the most important details -- a chance to pick out the flavour rather than chewing the meat.

For whatever reason, my favourite little moment is the meeting between Budge and von Cramm ten years later. The match is over, the war is over, and finally, here they are again:

There's something terribly poignant yet heartwarming about this scene. Remember their first meeting, when von Cramm was  the kindly authority figure delivering a lecture on sportsmanship and Budge was the shy, insecure one listening dutifully. And then think of what Von Cramm has been through since, a year in jail and the fear and losses of war: "The war was over. Two of his brothers were dead; most of the brave members of the Resistance he had known in Berlin during the war had been executed. Kai Lund, his old doubles partner, came home missing an arm and a leg, and Henner Henkel had disappeared into the black hole that was the battle of Stalingrad. Geoffrey Nares, of happier days in London, was dead too."

You can see why von Cramm emerges as the hero of Splendor, going from the man who had everything to the man who lost everything except his character and humanity. The 'Aftermatch' chapter, coming as it does after you've developed a link to the people in the book, may be the most stirring part of the book.

Other nuggets that could be added to your list include Tilden's teetotalling habits prompting French diners to order water by saying "I'll have a Tilden" (you might have heard me describe my habit of nursing a drink through the evening as "working a Trudeau"). Also that the First World War broke out during the Germany vs. Australia Davis Cup semifinal in 1914, with reporters quiet about keeping the "WAR DECLARED" telegrams till the match was over; the fact that both Tildon and von Cramm were missing parts of a finger in their playing hand, a discovery that must have created an instant sense of kinship; Daniel Prenn, kicked off the German team for being Jewish and then emigrating to England, taking the tube to watch the match from the stands.

And of course, the story about Don Budge umpiring an exhibition between Fred Perry and Ellsworth Vines and realizing from the chair that the secret of Perry's effectiveness was taking the ball on the rise. Budge taught himself to do the same, without sacrificing power, and -- well, the rest is history.

Perry is in fact the book's one slight miss. Fisher makes a couple of references to him as the dashing English gentleman and such, giving the impression that Perry was also a kind of upper-crust establishment figure. But Perry was seen by some as a brash upstart from the wrong side of the tracks, the son of a Labour party member of parliament and someone who prized victory a little too much. The story goes that after Perry won the tournament in 1934, one of the All England Club members unceremoniously hung his club tie (given to all the winners) over the chair while he was having a bath. (If I recall correctly, Perry also overheard the club member telling his opponent that it was too bad the better man hadn't won.) It might have been worth giving him a page or two as yet another of the establishment-challenging figures of this period.

And for balance -- since we've talked about all the interesting and colourful little details in the book -- here's one paragraph I thought was a bit strange:

This sounds rather far-fetched, unless von Cramm had an etymological bent we don't know about. Besides, I'd opt for "ideology," "ethnicity" and "nuclear" -- whatever their linguistic roots.

One of the things the book does extremely well is combine the big picture with the small details. Fisher may be lucky to be writing about extraordinary people in extraordinary times, but the effectiveness with which the material is organized is skill. There's a general sense of the political atmosphere in Europe one minute, then the next a listing of the day's headlines to bring it to life.

Combine this with the book's fragmented structure, and there's almost a kaleidoscopic effect at the end -- the feeling of a million different pieces in this vibrant episode finally coming together, and a sense of awe that it all actually happened.

Any finishing thoughts, Steve?

Kamakshi