All in : an autobiography / Billie Jean King ; with Johnette Howard and Maryanne Vollers.

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER * An inspiring and intimate self-portrait of the champion of equality that encompasses her brilliant tennis career, unwavering activism, and an ongoing commitment to fairness and social justice.

"A story about the personal strength, immense growth, and undeniable greatness of one woman who fearlessly stood up to a culture trying to break her down."--Serena Williams

In this spirited account, Billie Jean King details her life's journey to find her true self. She recounts her groundbreaking tennis career--six years as the top-ranked woman in the world, twenty Wimbledon championships, thirty-nine grand-slam titles, and her watershed defeat of Bobby Riggs in the famous "Battle of the Sexes." She poignantly recalls the cultural backdrop of those years and the profound impact on her worldview from the women's movement, the assassinations and anti-war protests of the 1960s, the civil rights movement, and, eventually, the LGBTQ+ rights movement.

She describes the myriad challenges she's hurdled--entrenched sexism, an eating disorder, near financial peril after being outed--on her path to publicly and unequivocally acknowledging her sexual identity at the age of fifty-one. She talks about how her life today remains one of indefatigable service. She offers insights and advice on leadership, business, activism, sports, politics, marriage equality, parenting, sexuality, and love. And she shows how living honestly and openly has had a transformative effect on her relationships and happiness.

Hers is the story of a pathbreaking feminist, a world-class athlete, and an indomitable spirit whose impact has transcended even her spectacular achievements in sports.

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

Chapter 1 I can still remember exactly what it looked, felt, and sounded like on that September afternoon in 1954 when my life changed forever. The sky overhead was bright as a bluebird's wing. The Southern California sun felt warm on my skin, and I could smell the spicy bark of the eucalyptus trees that surrounded the public tennis courts at Houghton Park in Long Beach. A handful of boys and girls were lining up for their drills as I arrived with my friend Susan Williams for my very first session with a coach named Clyde Walker. It wasn't long before the thwock-thwock-thwock of the balls being struck on our court blended into the noise rising from the adjoining court, too. Susan had introduced me to the sport a few weeks earlier by asking me a simple question as we sat in our fifth-grade classroom: "Do you want to play tennis?" "What's tennis?" I replied. I listened intently as Susan explained that in tennis you could run, jump, and hit a ball--three things I loved about basketball and softball, two of the team sports I played. Susan invited me to play at the Virginia Country Club, to which her family belonged. I was predictably awful, but Susan thought it was funny when I blasted a ball over the fence and shouted, "Home run!"--a first, I'm guessing, at the venerable VCC. On the way home my mind was racing. That night I asked my father, "Daddy, which sport would be best for a girl? You know, in the long term." My father put down his newspaper and thought for a while. "Well, there's swimming, golf, and"--I waited for it--"tennis." Tennis! I had tried swimming, but I was the worst in my class at the YWCA. The great female star Babe Didrikson Zaharias played golf, but to me golf looked too slow. Tennis seemed just right. I liked the variety and mental challenge. I liked being able to hit the ball over and over. Tennis fascinated me from that first day I played with Susan, using a borrowed racket. When I pestered my parents for my own racket, I wasn't discouraged a bit when they reminded me that money was tight, and that I'd have to buy it myself. I did odd jobs for neighbors, who smiled and indulged me when I told them my goal. I weeded flower beds, swept sidewalks. My mom advanced me $2, and I rode my bike to a local pharmacy, where I bought candy and then resold it to the other kids at a small markup. I put every nickel and dime I earned into a Mason jar above the kitchen sink. After a few months I couldn't wait anymore and my parents took me to a sporting-goods shop. When my parents approached the salesman and said they'd like to see tennis rackets for their daughter, I mustered the courage to ask him what $8.29 could buy. He showed us a sweet little wood racket with a purple-and-white throat and a purple grip. I thought it was beautiful. I bought it and slept with it that night . . . and the next night . . . and many, many nights after that. While I'll remain forever grateful to Susan for introducing me to tennis, it was Clyde Walker whose free instruction made the sport come alive for me. Once Clyde showed us how to hit a proper groundstroke, I loved the pure feeling of the racket strings connecting cleanly with the ball, absorbing its energy and hurling it back. I couldn't get enough of the thrill of making contact--how the transference of energy shoots through your fingers, your arm, your shoulder, and how your whole body is involved as you swing. I loved the drama of it all, too--chasing down each ball, the universe of possibilities that opened up as I drew my racket back, then that split-second pause where everything hangs in the balance as you're preparing to hit a return. There was something swashbuckling and instantly addictive about all of it. I loved the challenge and suspense of trying to hit a perfectly executed shot and the charge I got when the ball landed out of my opponent's reach. Then I couldn't wait to get the next ball and do it again. By the end of that first afternoon with Clyde I knew I had discovered my sport. It was as if a window into my future had been flung open. I was only ten, but in the breathy way that ten-year-olds think, I was already certain it was my destiny, and I just had to tell somebody. "Mom! Mom! I found out what I'm going to do with my life!" I said when she arrived to pick me up in our green DeSoto. "I want to be the No. 1 tennis player in the world!" She smiled. This was not unlike the time a few years earlier when I stood in the kitchen as we were drying the dishes and told her, "Mom, I'm going to do something great with my life--I just know it! You watch." This time--as then--my mother looked at me and said the absolutely best, most revolutionary thing she could have said to a girl like me in 1954: "Okay, dear." I was grateful that my parents resisted setting limits on me, which is different from saying that my upbringing was always progressive. My mom and dad were strict and conservative in many ways, but they also told my brother and me we could be anything we wanted to be. When Randy, who is five years younger than me, announced at the dinner table one night that he also intended to be a pro athlete--a Major League Baseball player--both my parents covered their faces with their hands, then peered out through their fingers with a look that said, Not you, too? Mom was already driving me to tennis matches all over Long Beach and beyond. My dad later said we wore out three cars between Randy and me. Randy ended up playing Major League Baseball for twelve years as a relief pitcher with the San Francisco Giants, Houston Astros, and Toronto Blue Jays. I went on to win thirty-nine singles, doubles titles, and mixed doubles titles at the four major or "Grand Slam" tournaments--the U.S. Open, Wimbledon, Roland-Garros (also known as the French Open), and the Australian Open--and accomplish a few other special things. I don't think there is just one factor that explains our athletic success. I think a combination of lucky genes, incredibly devoted parents, opportunity, and chance all played a role. We were fortunate to grow up in Southern California with its perfect weather for developing athletes year-round. Sports was the air we breathed. The term "snowplow parent" hadn't been invented when we were kids, but it wouldn't have applied to my folks anyway. They sup- ported us but never pushed us to be sports stars. They concentrated more on being life coaches. Even my ultra-competitive father, who was a terrific athlete, never cared if we won or lost our games. "Did you try your best and have fun?" he'd ask, same as my mother did. My parents always treated Randy and me equally, which was unusual for many families then. But when I didn't share the same love of shopping or painting my fingernails that my mother did, I would notice the look on her face. She earned a cosmetology license the year she was engaged to Dad, and she was always so stylish in her pinched-waistline dresses and impeccable hair and makeup. I eventually learned that she had been a fast runner and terrific swimmer as a girl and used to body-surf in fifteen-foot-high ocean waves before she married my dad. On our swimming outings, Randy and I would thrash around, but she'd just float serenely, bobbing in the rolling waves like a cork. I'm sure I inherited some of her athletic talent, but she always played her abilities down. She had strong ideas about what was "ladylike." She was happier (and far less conflicted) when I told her I was eager to sign up for cotillion like the other girls. Later, once I started to question my sexual orientation, it was hard for me to forget those kinds of messages, or the day my hot-tempered father was driving Randy, my mother, and me to a tournament when I was about thirteen. We passed two men walking together down the street, and it triggered Dad's memory. He told us a story about a man in the service who propositioned him. "I'd have clocked him if he hadn't backed off," my father said. I believed him. Excerpted from All In: An Autobiography by Billie Jean King, Johnette Howard, Maryanne Vollers All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Library Journal Review

In this engrossing memoir, tennis legend King writes that, from a young age, she knew that she loved sports, tennis especially, and she was both puzzled and infuriated by injustices. Why couldn't girls play sports with boys? Why did racial segregation exist? When she was older, she questioned why men playing tennis earned much more money than women players. King was frustrated by these facts and sought to do something about them by helping to start the women's professional tennis circuit and by supporting Title IX legislation. Her famous 1973 victory over Bobby Riggs in the so-called Battle of the Sexes not only solidified the relevance and importance of equality in the world of pro tennis, but also stirred people to reevaluate the treatment of women in the workplace. On top of all this, King discusses the difficulties she encountered as a lesbian in a less-than-tolerant society. As amazing as her on-court accomplishments are, her work for social justice is even more remarkable. VERDICT An absorbing story, richly told by one of the 20th century's pioneering sports figures and social activists. An essential memoir that will inspire and stay with readers of all ages.--Brian Renvall, New Mexico State Univ. Carlsbad

Publishers Weekly Review

The tennis legend faces off against on-court rivalries and off-court battles for equality in her audacious memoir. King (Pressure Is a Privilege) looks back on her years as a tennis superstar and winner of multiple Grand Slam titles in the 1960s and 1970s; her exploits leading the movement to professionalize women's tennis with the Virginia Slims tour and win equality with men in tournament prize money; her celebrated 1973 "Battle of the Sexes" match, in which she beat chauvinist figure Bobby Rigg; and her traumatic outing after a former female lover filed a palimony lawsuit, which cost King endorsement contracts. Vivid throughout is King's passion for the game--"I loved the drama of it... the universe of possibilities that opened up as I drew my racket back, then that split-second pause where everything hangs in the balance as you're preparing to hit a return"--and her obsessive will to win. She also fervidly speaks on contemporary issues from trans rights--calling out the Women's Tennis Association for its insensitive treatment of such players as Renée Richards--to gun control ("gun violence has become a human rights crisis"). The result is a lively and inspiring portrait of pressure-cooker play and political upheaval in tennis, from one of its most fascinating figures. Agent: David Black, David Black Literary. (Aug.)

Booklist Review

From an early age, Billie Jean King was aware of social injustices and felt that she was put on Earth to do good. As a professional tennis player, she used her platform with superb precision to win fierce battles on and off the court for gender equality and inclusion. Here King recounts her remarkable journey from growing up in a Long Beach, California, working-class family in the 1940s to becoming a professional athlete and entrepreneur and learning to live as her authentic self. Tennis fans will devour the detailed backstories to her historic run, up to 1983, when, after 27 years, she stopped playing competitive singles after winning 39 Grand Slam singles and doubles championships. Highlights include her groundbreaking win against Bobby Riggs in the 1973 "Battle of the Sexes," and the complex love story with her ex-husband, whom she credits for making her a feminist. It is her secret of being a closeted gay woman that discloses her vulnerability and suffering, including a big reveal: she and her longtime partner, Ilana Kloss, were married by former New York City Mayor David Dinkins (a huge tennis fan). All In is a must-read about an authentic American hero, and one of the twentieth century's most consequential figures in the fight for gender equality and human rights.

Kirkus Book Review

A tennis legend tells all. In a candid, vividly detailed memoir, co-authored by journalists Howard and Vollers, King (b. 1943) recounts her dazzling 30-year career, from her discovery of tennis when she was 10 to her amazing fame as the top player in the U.S., winner of 39 Grand Slam and 20 Wimbledon titles. Doing odd jobs to pay for her first racket, Billie Jean Moffitt was lucky to find encouraging coaches and sympathetic mentors who helped the determined, defiant, and ambitious young girl to hone her talents. She was frustrated, though, to find herself clearly at a disadvantage in a male-dominated sport where women were relegated to amateur status, denied endorsements and travel expenses, and awarded far less prize money than men. It was her husband, Larry King, she writes, who "made me a feminist." As her visibility increased, she became an outspoken activist against gender inequality, supporting the Equal Rights Amendment and Title IX; lobbying to change the amateur tennis system; and founding the Women's Tennis Association and the Women's Sports Foundation. "People's experience is rarely improved by sitting still in the face of injustice," she writes. King recounts highlights of some of her most notable contests: against Australian champion Margaret Smith, for example, the young Chris Evert, and especially her tense, much-hyped match against Bobby Riggs in 1973, which was attended by more than 30,000 spectators and seen on TV by more than 90 million people. She won, coming away with $100,000 in prize money and slews of endorsements. King reveals health problems, repeated surgeries, an eating disorder, and an ongoing struggle to define her sexuality. She was horrified when she was outed by a former lover who threatened to blackmail her, which forced her to recognize her latent homophobia. Now retired from playing, she actively promotes LGBTQ+ rights. A memoir bristling with energy and passion. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.