Duchamp himself has had a tough campaign: Milne, a match he said privately he thought he might winnie in threeie, Isherwood, Mandelstam in what was probably the match of the third round, and Ernie Hemingway in the fourth. His undermining of fourth-seeded Einstein was a study in planning and execution and was replayed around the world.
Nevertheless, the Lardner–Duchamp quarter-final featured the two players least known to the broader sporting public.
In the first set they tested one another. Lardner served powerfully and hit drives deep to both corners. Duchamp watched like a hawk and probed the sidelines, stretching the American and punching away the volley. Lardner 6–4.
The second set was all Lardner. The high-octane serve was screaming in and Duchamp sliced the returns to slow the game down. This was just what the doctor ordered as far as Lardner was concerned and he was there like a cat, hitting winner after winner. Lardner 6–4, 6–3.
The crowd could see the writing on the wall and paid no particular attention when Duchamp eased his way into the third set and won it in a tie-break with three superb lobs which had Lardner out of position and going the wrong way. Lardner 6–4, 6–3, 6–7.
The fourth set also went to a tie-break. Lardner jogged on the spot, took a couple of deep breaths and went for the kill. He stepped the serve up another notch and was deadly at the net. But Duchamp got everything back and stood his ground, winning the tie-break once again, again with three superb lobs. Lardner could only stand and watch as they drifted into the unguarded back court. All square, Lardner v. Duchamp 6–4, 6–3, 6–7, 6–7. The crowd lifted. Duchamp allowed himself a wry smile but knew there was work still to do.
Twenty-seven minutes later that work was done. Game, set and match Duchamp, 4–6, 3–6, 7–6, 7–6, 6–2.
The Mann–Eliot encounter was a different affair altogether. Both players expected to be in the quarters and each knows the other’s game. They are strong and uncompromising men and had taken some bruising to get here. Mann was lucky to get past Kandinsky, Eisenstein, Satie and Mayakovsky but then had surprisingly little trouble with Stravinsky. SuperTom began with routine wins against Capek and Crosby but then ran into Shaw in a grudge match which nearly upset the applecart. Tagore and then Wittgenstein took more out of the Eliot legs and it was a battle-hardened SuperTom who stepped out on Centre Court today.
This would be big, powerful stuff. There would be a lot of noise and one man would not get up. The gods were angry.
Mann blinked in the first set and lost it 6–4. SuperTom blinked in the second and lost it 7–5. The Mann service quickened in the third and he took it 6–3. Mann had set his sail and was heading for open sea.
SuperTom pretended it was all in a day’s work but he looked like a country vicar who’d found himself in charge at Passchendaele. He hadn’t done much wrong, but here he was in full retreat in a battle controlled by someone else. He needed to break out. Could he do it? Did he dare?
‘It was time,’ he said later. ‘I decided to fight the fact that fire was being fought with fire, with fire.’
There was extra bite in the SuperTom serve in the fourth quartet. His ground strokes were low and hard, and anything Mann lobbed was murdered. Mann defended his lead and slowed the game down but this simply highlighted SuperTom’s gift for setting up well-constructed points. He broke Mann twice and took the match to a fifth set.
SuperTom was back in town. When Eliot is running hot he can do anything; the power game is huge, he disguises his intentions well and even scraps of shots become part of a seamless cloth.
It was well known that Auden planned to leave town as soon as possible but today he and MacNeice played as if they wanted to stay here forever, and at times had this match at their mercy. Chandler and Hammett, however, were not about to lie down.
‘Can’t afford to lie down in this business,’ said Chandler. ‘Down the other end were two guys. Same as last time. Different guys. Same deal. Big one looked like a hangover with the lot but the other one was slick, like a fish with a good barber. Maybe he deals a little insurance to widows and maybe a little something else besides.
‘I opened the court-side fridge and got a message from my nerves demanding to know where they kept the whisky and could we go home soon. A flatfoot sitting up a ladder somewhere said, “Play.” I thought of looking up but my eyes had been on strike for better pay and conditions and I didn’t want to inflame the issue.
‘Dash and I lost the first set. The hangover was packing plenty of punch and the insurance man was picking up work all over town.
‘“Do these guys know something we don’t?” asked Dash as we sat down.
‘“My feet hurt,” I said.
‘“They’re just a couple of punks,” said Dash.
‘“I think my arm is broken.”
‘“Something doesn’t fit,” said Dash. “Couple of punks beating tough guys like us.”
‘“There’s got to be an easier way to get a thirst.”
‘Dash took a long pull on his drink, threw his towel down and we went back out there. Dash isn’t a big guy and he only trains nights. But don’t get him angry. He fights above his weight.’
The second set saw Hammett unleash himself and Auden’s habit of coming
