(Originally published by the Daily News on September 21, 1973. This story was written by Dave Hirshey.)Houston, Sept. 20 - So now we know. When it comes to tennis, a 29-year-old at the height of her game can beat a 55-year-old man, many years past his prime. In the span of only two hours and five minutes, Billie Jean King freed all the women in chains, undermined the entire vitamin and avocado industry and severely battered the reputation of the world's No. 1 hustler, Robert Larimore Riggs.Playing with all the caution of a Kamikaze pilot and all the femininity of a roller derby star, Billie Jean routed Bad Bob in straight sets, 6-4, 6-3, 6-3, to win the Super Bowl of the Sexes, $20,000, and a front-row ticket to the next Bobby Riggs promotion - The Happy Hustler vs. the Pacific Ocean.If by some miracle he lost what he kept babbling was "the greatest hustle of all time." Riggs promised he would take a dive off the Pasadena Bridge. Of course, cynics suggest, he did that tonight in the Astrodome before 30,240 howling fans and millions of entranced television viewers around the world.There was a certain fitting irony that the match was held under the big glass dome. An enormous air bubble that rises incongruously on a parking lot, the Astrodome is as inflated as the event had become. What was really nothing more than a missed singles exhibition had exploded into a monstrous spectacle that transcended all boundaries of sport and rational man. The country was being hustled like it never had been before and was loving every minute of it.It was a bizarre a setting as you will see in sports - equal parts of Texas big, Hollywood show biz, Madison Avenue slick and Barnum and Baily madness. The Astrodome officials had laid a green carpet like a pool table over the Houston Rockets' basketball floor, between first and second base of the Houston Astros' diamond.This wasn't a sports contest, it was a happening out of Clockwork Orange. From anywhere but the $100 courtside seats, Riggs and King looked like a couple of ants playing tennis in a greenhouse. At courtside, where the stars of stage, screen, and gaming rooms sat, you could buy a glass of Henri Marchant New York State champagne, see Disney on parade, look at Howard Cosell in a tuxedo and ogle the "Cougar Dolls," eight lovely young things in sequined tops, white go-go boots and dangerously tight jump suits as they gyrated to the theme song of the evening, "Shaft."You could also, appropriately, buy a huge slab of beef for 1.75 a few yards from where Billie Jean was carving up the world's most celebrated male chauvinist pig.Liston vs. AliWho woulda thunk it? Certainly not all the so-called smart money which had made Riggs a 2 ½ -1 favorite. It was Liston vs Ali all over again, those supposedly invincible aging champion against the younger, swifter, more aggressive challenger. And, like Liston, Riggs found out that reputation carries you only so far. Also like Liston, and in keeping with the heavyweight prize fight atmosphere, there was Riggs, looking like a thoroughly beaten old man prattling about a rematch."If she'd beat me 1, 2 and 1, I'd say "the gals are better," blared Riggs. "But I think it's close enough that, like Frazier and Ali, I want a rematch."Billie Jean wouldn't say yes and she wouldn't say no. What she would say was, "I feel this is the culmination of my 19 years in tennis." Then she looked up at all the girls giving her the "Broad Power" salute and said, "Right on."At that very moment, Billie Jean may have been the happiest person in the Western Hemisphere. It was a marked change from the dark, cautious mood she appeared to be in all week when she refused all interviews and went into virtual seclusion. She had left all the promotional shlock to Riggs who for 10 days swung wildly on a merry-go-round of parties, public appearances and late-night sessions with the press, gorging himself on vitamins and avocados ("they give you a sharper mind,") and the glare of the limelight that he needs so desperately to feed his ego. And, in the end, only his mouth was in shape.The vitamin rejuvenation program had worked wonders, to be sure. Riggs looked so good he could pas for 54. Shrewdly, when it came time to play, Billie Jean exploited the 26-year age difference, jerking Bad Bob around like a puppet on a string. Right from the beginning, the two things were obvious; Billie Jean would live or die on her aggressive attacking style. Riggs had forgotten to bring his tennis racket with all the maddening junk shots in it. Oh, the garbage was still there. But unlike is celebrated massacre of Margaret Court at Ramona, the drop shots weren't dropping, the lobs weren't skimming the baseline, the spins weren't dancing like knuckleballs, and the serves weren't fluttering crazily over the net.Billie Jean, meanwhile, was playing extraordinarily well, pounding up to net with savage ferocity to put away Riggs' marshmallow shots Her murderous, sliced backhand was smoking, ripping winner after winner past a bewildered Riggs. And, most importantly, she was playing with a professional cool that Riggs had sworn was only possible in men. No Margaret Court she.When she won the first game with astonishing ease, it must have occurred to Riggs that all his psyching and gamesmanship had been for naught. Indeed, if the pressure was getting to anyone, it was affecting Riggs who appeared tighter than a drum. Though he broke Billie Jean in the fifth game, Riggs was never in command. Mrs. King promptly broke back in the next game and scored the decisive break in the tenth game for the set as Riggs doublefaulted."After I won the first set I knew if I could hold my service I'd have him," said Billie Jean. "My backhand, my ability at the net and my mobility on the court were the difference.Bouyed by the lusty cheers of the crowd that seemed to be heavily in her corner, the gritty fireman's daughter from Long Beach, Calif., broke a tired Riggs in the first game of the second set and again in the eighth. "She was much faster, much quicker, and covered the court better," said Riggs. "I didn't think she would be so tough to pass."He also didn't think he would play so abysmally. For a man considered one of the best tennis players the game has ever seen, the Riggs who showed up at the Astrodome looked like an imposter. Whenever he had an easy setup, be it an overhand or volley, Riggs would find some ingenious way to blow it.His smashes were so slow that you could almost read the print on the ball from the press box, almost a half mile away. Still, right up to the last point, you expected the real Bobby Riggs to suddenly surface and make a stunning comeback to take the match in five sets. It never happened.There was brief charge after the first game when Riggs won seven straight points but Billie Jean broke him at love in the fifth game and it was only a matter of time. Riggs gamely staved off three match points but, everytime, he neither netted an easy putaway or double faulted. Finally, Riggs flubbed a backhand and hopped the net to throw his arm around Billie Jean. He was still smiling. Who wants to bet that he wouldn't be back?And then there was that bit at the beginning:Billie Jean came out first in a sedan chair. She wore a specially designed lime green outfit with sequins across the front and blue suede sneakers as the University of Houston band played marching music. Two minutes later, the world's most celebrated male chauvinist pig made his triumphant entrance in a rickshaw. Promptly, he presented Mrs. King with a six foot long Sugar Daddy, "the largest sucker I could find for the biggest sucker I know."Right from the beginning, it was clear that Billie Jean would live or die on her attacking style. Pounding up to net at every opportunity, she hit three sharply angled volleys to take the first game as the women in the crowd of about 30,000 cheered lustily.But the Happy Hustler was unruffled and he flashed his chipmunk smile as a sign to his legions of "Riggs' Pigs" not to worry. Spinning and slicing, chopping and dropping, he evened the match quickly in the next game, call that drew a few whistles of disapproval.A count of officials on the court showed definite male chauvinist tendencies with seven linesmen and only four lineswomen. The games went with service until the fifth when Riggs broke Mrs. King, who surprisingly had abandoned her aggressive attacking style and became tentative. But just as visions of a Riggs rout began dancing in his supporters heads, Billie Jean broke back as Bad Bob's serve deserted him. No Mothers Day Massacre this time. Billie Jean was playing extraordinarily well, jerking Riggs around the court like a puppet on a string.It was a brilliant display of thinking tennis. Billie Jean's anticipation could have been keener. When Riggs hit down the lines, she was there to it off for a winner. When Riggs tried to drop shot her, she would scoot up to the net and flick it back out of his reach.The frustration showed on Bad Bob. In the tenth game of the first set, Billie Jean hit a sensational lunging backhand for the advantage as Riggs could only stare at the ball. Flustered, he double-faulted to lose the set as the women libbers in the crowd erupted in fiendish delight. And suddenly, Riggs looked like a very vulnerable 55-year-old man.