Larry King (no, not that one) steps out of the car and is immediately asked if his wife cooks for him. "No," he says. "Room service." But he's smiling, because even though his wife doesn't cook, she's not called B.J. for nothing. A happy Billie Jean, mulletastic as ever, bounces out of the car and hugs a couple of the reporters. "Are you a libber?" one asks. "I'm a tennis player," she replies glibly. When asked whether she'll win Wimbledon, Billie shouts flippantly, "I'll have to shake my little bahoola to pull that off!" The reporters love her, clap for her, and wave. "Doesn't know her place, that one," tsks the crone. On one point, I agree -- under no circumstances should anyone use the word "bahoola."
Walking up to one of the Wimbledon courts, Bobby is regaling rising star Jimmy Connors with his Wimbledon history. It's totally embellished and depicts him as true star of the sport, which was never the case with Bobby Riggs, but he still maintains that he won $100,000 by betting on himself in all three Wimbledon events. Jimmy asks what happened to his career after that apparent triumph. Stunned and momentarily shaken, Bobby is silent. Um. Mentally, he rifles through Twenty Excuses For Any Occasion and says, "There was a war! We all got drafted. There was no Wimbledon." Which is actually true -- Wimbledon didn't resume play until 1946 -- but it's still a fairly thin excuse for his short moment of success. Bobby catches wind of a women's match that's drawn quite a crowd -- the police guard won't let him in, even though he's Bobby Riggs, because the police guard doesn't give a shit about Bobby Riggs and doesn't know who he is -- and peeks around the fence to watch. "How did the girls get to be so popular?" he asks, confused. "Guess it's the lib thing," Lorney says. Bobby hasn't heard of this so-called Liberation Movement. He's intrigued, doubly so when Billie Jean argues a point. He thinks she's spunky. Must be the leg muscles. I don't know what workout plan Holly Hunter used, but oh my God, her quads are so big that they need their own seats on airplanes.
"King vs. the Status Quo," the screen reads. Billie Jean's fresh mullet approaches a table of female players and tells them with a grin that Wimbledon didn't up the prize money for women because they needed funds to plant more hydrangeas around the grounds. "This is the year, mamas, this is the year we'll have our own association," Billie Jean says, eyes glinting. Larry, who's also a lawyer, has told her they can have it up and running before the US Open comes up two months down the line. "I refuse to let this go. We are happening, baby!" They all clap except for one older blonde woman, who views them with distaste. She doesn't understand why they need a new association, and doesn't want to sign a petition because she could be suspended. "Not if we all sign it," says a brunette. The Older Biddy says she'll sign it only if Margaret does -- and Margaret, sitting demurely at a nearby table, calls out softly that she doesn't see a need to sign it. "I don't care about the money," she says. "I'm not here to make trouble. I'm just here to play tennis." Billie Jean and her supporters stare blankly at Margaret. Finally, BJ whispers to keep working at it while she targets Chrissie Evert. But Bobby accosts Billie Jean first. They greet each other warmly, and he begs Billie to play against him in this "fantastic" match that he'll promote. Grinning the whole way, Billie Jean dispenses with him quickly, but he's persistent and won't give up completely.