United States.”
Over the next fifteen years, I played thirty-two Davis Cup matches and won twenty-seven of them, more than any American in the history of the Cup to that point. I had some stirring victories, but so demanding is Davis Cup play that I remember most clearly my losses, especially two singles defeats against Ecuador in 1967. I remember them vividly because they were national as well as personal defeats, and thus hurt me more. I played my last Davis Cup match in 1978.
To my surprise, the opportunity to lead the team came sooner than I had expected, indeed, the very year I retired. Between 1980 and 1985, I served as captain of the United States team. Although other involvements marked that period of my life, my captaincy was its highlight. My captaincy also proved to be much more challenging than I had anticipated. Those five years turned out to be, on the whole, a disorganized, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes frustrating and even humiliating epic of victories and defeats, excitement and tedium, camaraderie and isolation. At a mature age, I learned a fair amount about my strengths and my weaknesses, my principles and my moods.
I also learned much about other people, including the two finest players in the world, Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe, and a generous selection of the other memorable personalities who then made up the elite of men’s international tennis competition. I learned about the sharp differences between individualism and leadership, playing and coaching, the younger generation and the old guard, of which I was rapidly becoming a member. In my middle passage, nothing shoved me along so rudely into the future as my experience as a captain in the Davis Cup wars.
IN THE SUMMER of 1980, I was at the U.S. Open at the National Tennis Center at Flushing Meadows, New York,when I received word that the incoming president of the United States Tennis Association, Marvin P. Richmond, wanted to see me. When I found him, Richmond was with the outgoing president of the USTA, Joseph E. Carrico. They wasted no time.
“Tony Trabert wants out,” Richmond said. “He can’t take it any longer.” Trabert was our current Davis Cup captain. He had been serving since 1976, and there had been no hint that he might step down soon.
“Take what?” I asked.
“The behavior of the players. McEnroe. Gerulaitis. Peter Fleming. They are driving him nuts.”
“Well,” I said. “I’ve been reading a little about all that. But I didn’t think it was all
that
bad.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Richmond assured me. “Anyway, Trabert’s out.”
“Am I on your short list?” I asked.
The U.S. Davis Cup captain is chosen by the president of the USTA. The captain then chooses the team.
“No,” Richmond replied, a grin on his face.
“What?”
“No, because we don’t have a short list. We want you.”
I felt so happy and proud I could have jumped into the air—the job meant that much to me.
“Gee,” I said, “it’s quite an honor, but this is rather sudden. I need to think about it. Can you give me twenty-four hours?” I was buying time from the inevitable onslaught of the press. I wanted to anticipate the questions and prepare for them, as well as talk to a few players.
I had played Davis Cup tennis under Trabert’s captaincy in 1978 and knew him fairly well, so I sought him out immediately. In his prime, starting at his hometown University of Cincinnati, Trabert had been an extraordinary player. He had won the national collegiate singles title, then had gone on to compile one of the most distinguished records in American tennis. Until Michael Chang won the French Open in 1989, no American had been victorious at Roland Garros since Trabert earned the title, for the second time, in1955. That year, he also won at Forest Hills and Wimbledon.
Trabert had played Davis Cup tennis for four years, between 1951 and 1955. Then he had turned professional, touring with Gonzalez. Once he turned
Over the next fifteen years, I played thirty-two Davis Cup matches and won twenty-seven of them, more than any American in the history of the Cup to that point. I had some stirring victories, but so demanding is Davis Cup play that I remember most clearly my losses, especially two singles defeats against Ecuador in 1967. I remember them vividly because they were national as well as personal defeats, and thus hurt me more. I played my last Davis Cup match in 1978.
To my surprise, the opportunity to lead the team came sooner than I had expected, indeed, the very year I retired. Between 1980 and 1985, I served as captain of the United States team. Although other involvements marked that period of my life, my captaincy was its highlight. My captaincy also proved to be much more challenging than I had anticipated. Those five years turned out to be, on the whole, a disorganized, sometimes exhilarating, sometimes frustrating and even humiliating epic of victories and defeats, excitement and tedium, camaraderie and isolation. At a mature age, I learned a fair amount about my strengths and my weaknesses, my principles and my moods.
I also learned much about other people, including the two finest players in the world, Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe, and a generous selection of the other memorable personalities who then made up the elite of men’s international tennis competition. I learned about the sharp differences between individualism and leadership, playing and coaching, the younger generation and the old guard, of which I was rapidly becoming a member. In my middle passage, nothing shoved me along so rudely into the future as my experience as a captain in the Davis Cup wars.
IN THE SUMMER of 1980, I was at the U.S. Open at the National Tennis Center at Flushing Meadows, New York,when I received word that the incoming president of the United States Tennis Association, Marvin P. Richmond, wanted to see me. When I found him, Richmond was with the outgoing president of the USTA, Joseph E. Carrico. They wasted no time.
“Tony Trabert wants out,” Richmond said. “He can’t take it any longer.” Trabert was our current Davis Cup captain. He had been serving since 1976, and there had been no hint that he might step down soon.
“Take what?” I asked.
“The behavior of the players. McEnroe. Gerulaitis. Peter Fleming. They are driving him nuts.”
“Well,” I said. “I’ve been reading a little about all that. But I didn’t think it was all
that
bad.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Richmond assured me. “Anyway, Trabert’s out.”
“Am I on your short list?” I asked.
The U.S. Davis Cup captain is chosen by the president of the USTA. The captain then chooses the team.
“No,” Richmond replied, a grin on his face.
“What?”
“No, because we don’t have a short list. We want you.”
I felt so happy and proud I could have jumped into the air—the job meant that much to me.
“Gee,” I said, “it’s quite an honor, but this is rather sudden. I need to think about it. Can you give me twenty-four hours?” I was buying time from the inevitable onslaught of the press. I wanted to anticipate the questions and prepare for them, as well as talk to a few players.
I had played Davis Cup tennis under Trabert’s captaincy in 1978 and knew him fairly well, so I sought him out immediately. In his prime, starting at his hometown University of Cincinnati, Trabert had been an extraordinary player. He had won the national collegiate singles title, then had gone on to compile one of the most distinguished records in American tennis. Until Michael Chang won the French Open in 1989, no American had been victorious at Roland Garros since Trabert earned the title, for the second time, in1955. That year, he also won at Forest Hills and Wimbledon.
Trabert had played Davis Cup tennis for four years, between 1951 and 1955. Then he had turned professional, touring with Gonzalez. Once he turned
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