Bookends Martina

Tennis is incompatible with bloc politics. Its stars are individualists with styles and temperaments as distinctive as those of ballet dancers. Most important, there are millions of dollars and oodles of glamour to be had on the international tour.

So it was no great surprise that in 1975 Czechoslovakia's Martina Navratilova jumped the fence to begin her independent quest for U.S. citizenship and a ranking as the world's No. 1 woman tennis player. As shaped by New York Times Sports Columnist George Vecsey, this appealing Reds-to-riches story is as impatiently direct as Navratilova's game. Points are made quickly, aggressively and with authority. "You need a tank to beat me," she tells a haughty Soviet opponent after the U.S.S.R. had invaded Czechoslovakia. The Americanization of Martina begins with a move to Beverly Hills and the purchase of a silver Mercedes with the vanity plate X-CZECH.

Porsches, Rolls-Royces, houses and apartments follow, as do body building, health food and love affairs with women. Navratilova the industry is a walking . endorsement for the trends of the past ten years. Navratilova the individual possesses a vulnerable charm and naivete. Never does this daughter of old Europe sound more New World than when she talks about outgrowing relationships. Well, almost never. At one point she is somewhat disdainful about image making. Three paragraphs later she gives us the name of her public relations firm.