The Reisman-Butler Hard Bat $5000 Challenge Match
at U.S. Open

By Tim Boggan

Immediately following the fireworks of the July 4 Independence Day U.S. Open Pro Tour Men’s final at the Houston Astroarena--a final in which Belgium’s Jean-Mi Saive, the eventual winner, down match-point in the 4th against France’s Christophe Legout, survived in such dramatic fashion that on deucing it up he received a standing ovation--immediately after that climactic show of modern-day, super-fast, super-athletic table tennis, a match out of the past was played that had no precedence in the nearly 70 years of U.S. Open history. With the full cooperation of USATT officials, who over the decades have often been at such extreme odds with 1949 World Singles semifinalist and English Open Champion Marty Reisman as to repeatedly suspend him, the now 68-year-old Reisman was given the USATT red-carpet treatment in a much hyped Hard Bat match with 27-year-old Jimmy Butler, for many years now one of the mainstays of the U.S. National Team, and, like Reisman, a repeat U.S. Champion.

What made this match so historically unforgettable was not only its unique position of importance, being featured, complete with international umpire and scorekeeper, in the single Arena court after the traditional closing Men’s Singles match, but that it was recognized by one and all as a match for thousands of dollars not in prize money but in private wagers not only between the participants but between spectators too--albeit always discreetly. This is remarkable, because for many years Gambling was a very dirty word to the USTTA--indeed, its bete noire--and Reisman, among others, was the bane of officials and suffered their wrath.

Also of importance was the fact that the match was televised and unprecedented in length, the players having agreed to play best two out of three 3-out-of-5-game matches! Or, as U.S. Open Assistant Chief Umpire Aly Salaam announced with a smile to the remaining 200 early evening spectators, "a maximum of 15 games, a minimum of 6." Butler was dressed as you’d expect the 1998 World #94 to be, but Reisman was outfitted all in black--wearing trousers and with a special "Reisman" logo imprinted on the front of his shirt (too late someone suggested that on the other side Marty should have imprinted "Reisman’s Back"); also, after some hesitation he chose the green rather than the gold shoelaces. In addition, he sported a fluffy, full beard (making him look even older than his years). Butler was supported by two members of the U.S. Team, Barney Reed, Jr. and Eric Owens, and Reisman was seconded by me. As Marty had earlier played in the $900-first-prize Hard Bat event in the Open and had lost 2-1 to the eventual winner Danny Seemiller, late betting (and early betting too?) favored Butler. Before the match, and then during it, Marty was concerned that his racket might break (cracks in the plywood?). He was also very particular about the balls chosen (Dick Miles, at Marty’s insistence, had provided some excellent ones, and, whether they were considered o.k. by officials or not, Jimmy himself, who’d agreed to using whatever rubber racket Marty stipulated he should use, seemed to me also agreeable about the balls, as later he was graciously agreeable about any questionable call during play).

As the first 3-out-of-5 games progressed, it was apparent that Jimmy felt confident enough to play loosely, even playfully, and scored with some flamboyant shots. Though the first games were closer than many expected, Marty, making too many errors and, as he later admitted, "powder-puffing" the ball rather than rocketing it, just couldn’t put any pressure on Jimmy to try to get him to tighten up. Moreover, Marty wasn’t focusing well--he wanted the air-conditioning turned off, and when this didn’t immediately happen he was very distracted, so much so that he continued to argue until finally the officials obliged him. When Marty couldn’t win the third game of the first set, it appeared that he might lose not only six straight games but, embarrassingly even for those who’d bet against him, might lose face.

As his second, I’d been trying my best to encourage him, point after point, game after game, but I was surprised that even after the first game, sweating profusely, he appeared out of breath. That his racket hand was already shaking seemed to me quite normal, given the tension. He knew immediately he was in trouble, and as the first 3-out-of-5-game match was played out, it was the feeling of many spectators, observing his old-man-like hunched shoulders, his continual negative head-shaking, his somewhat flat attempts at bantering, that he just had no chance at all to win. Jimmy, according to reports, had played little hard bat in preparation for this match, but his developing years had given him a flat-hit style, particularly on the backhand, that proved more than adequate to handle Marty’s own up-to-the-table sterlingly-steady backhand play. Backhand to backhand, Marty could not get through Jimmy, but Jimmy could snap-hit power through Marty. Reisman, however, rose to the occasion as best he could. From here on in, up until the last game, he played as well as he could. Despite almost gasping for breath, as he appeared to be on coming back to his corner, he nevertheless began to get a second wind from somewhere. And now with a smooth, steady defense and a persistent forehand aggressiveness (which he did not show in winning the U.S. Hard Bat Championships last December in Las Vegas), and above all with some brilliant touch placements that kept Jimmy, even with his long stretch, stretching, Marty, in taking a 2-1 lead in games, began to win back many in the audience. It seemed by sheer will power he was again "The Money Player." Outwardly, he’d looked beaten, but inwardly he was not. Jimmy’s cornermen began telling him, "Get serious." They were afraid, particularly after Marty and Jimmy had an exchange, played what had aspects of a calculated exhibition point, where Marty had Jimmy dashing all over the court retrieving balls, that Jimmy, known to cramp on occasion, would cramp, and, as both had wagered heavily on the match, they had gotten just a mite nervous. But valiantly as Marty played, it was obvious to everyone, or, well, almost everyone, that the 19-year-old who beat the legendary Victor Barna in the final of the 1949 English Open and who then at 28 had won his first U.S. Open was not, 40 years later, the player he once was. He lost that second set to Jimmy in five games. What he still is, though, at least with a hard rubber racket against other players using hard rubber, is a charismatic wonder. Perhaps the most watched match outside of the Arena play, in all the Open side events, was his Hard Bat match with 5-time U.S. Champion Seemiller, particularly that first game, which magnetized the crowd. And even after Marty lost that first set in straight games to Jimmy--throughout, himself a class act, drawing praise from the audience and from Reisman himself for his sporting gestures, his sportsmanship in general--many, many spectators remained, showing by their attendance they wanted to pay homage to Reisman for his skill and, even more, his courage. Marty, many say (his wife, Yoshiko, too?, as the cup of juice she brought him shook in his hand), should never have issued such a Hard Bat challenge for thousands of dollars--and to the whole U.S. table tennis world yet. How good, really, did he think he was? Such a self-deluder. And yet perhaps, in some ways--ask the Norwegian dramatist Ibsen--most of us delude ourselves. Indeed, perhaps such delusion is necessary for our survival, our spiritual salvation. In the U.S., to religiously keep up the required level of intensity for this Sport, to have the spirit to hear and heed the call, requires a zeal that is prompted by illusion, that is simply not realistic, that must have some largely non-material reward. Else one cannot feel to function, cannot survive. One doesn’t have to appreciate the English poet Wordsworth to understand: Enough if something from our hands have power, To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know. Reisman, whose still fast hands have placement power, feels he is greater than he knows. And for all those who’ve marveled at him, and continue to marvel at him, crowding the Astro arena aisles to see him play, he has lived and acted, and, for half a century now, has served the Sport’s future hour.