Bouyed by last week’s experience of stumbling across an unexpected gem on my own bookshelf, I enthusiastically dove into what I hoped might produce a similar experience. In retrospect, it was an unrealistic expectation that another overlooked gem might be hiding in plain sight on my bookshelf. Consequently, I pulled down Tennis for Everyone by Pauline Betz Addie from my bookshelf, hoping to strike gold twice in a row. Spoiler alert: this one didn’t sparkle quite as brightly.
My copy, published in 1973, is an adaptation of her earlier 1966 book Tennis for Teenagers. It is long out of print and, from what I can tell, has never even been sold on Amazon. That’s a rarity for any tennis title. The book positions itself as an instructional guide aimed at making tennis more accessible, which aligns with Pauline Betz Addie’s lifelong mission to grow the game. For context, she is also the namesake of the Addie Cup, a senior women’s team competition that continues to this day. That legacy alone underscores her stature as a pioneer in women’s tennis.
Unfortunately, the content itself feels rooted in its time. While I have a healthy appreciation for instruction from the wooden racquet era, this book comes across as very wooden indeed. It acknowledges tennis as a social sport, but the tone and structure lean heavily toward an instructional manual. Still, buried in its pages are nuggets worth noting. The progression drills for beginners remain fundamentally sound, and the emphasis on placement is specifically attributed to the teachings of Jean Hoxie, an influential coach whose name frequently appears in tennis biographies of other players of that era. Those principles remain as valid today as ever, even if the presentation may feel dated.
One feature that deserves mention is the inclusion of “Tests” at the end of each chapter. For beginners, these check-your-learning moments are a helpful way to reinforce skills and knowledge. It’s a format that might still hold value in modern instructional material. By contrast, the chapter on clothing and equipment offers little more than historical curiosity. Tennis gear has advanced so far beyond wooden racquets and pleated whites that it reads more like an artifact than advice.
What I did find compelling is how many elements of tennis etiquette and fairness appear in this book, well before The Code was written and incorporated into Friend at Court. Betz Addie was teaching the same principles of honesty, sportsmanship, and giving your opponent the benefit of the doubt long before they were formally codified.
In the end, Tennis for Everyone may not be a hidden gem, but it does offer a window into how the game was taught and understood in the 1960s and ’70s. Its instructional content is dated, but the underlying values are timeless. Pauline Betz Addie stands as a pioneer in women’s tennis, and this book is another reminder of the many ways she shaped the sport.
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