Sometimes I get confused by who is popular and who isn’t in sports. The American ethic has long been that “hard work can get you anywhere.” Yet we don’t always seem to cheer for that. How many of you would have rooted for Lendl over McEnroe, for example? C’mon, be honest.
Ivan Lendl was one of the hardest workers ever to step onto a tennis court. He was a consummate professional, he never stopped fighting, and he won a lot. Off the court, he was very bright, he had a mischievous sense of humor, and he wanted -- more desperately than anyone could imagine -- to become a US citizen. But the tennis crowds almost always rooted for his opponents.
I, too, found it hard to root for Lendl at first. He seemed almost like a machine and he looked downright mean. He was big and he hit his forehand harder than anyone had ever hit a forehand. But a part of me couldn’t help also admire him, for his work ethic was legendary.
I think I became a Lendl fan when I saw him give an interview where he was asked if it bothered him that he was not more popular. His face betrayed the emotion below the surface, but he answered the question like the proud man he was. He said something like, “I cannot control the crowds. I can only control myself. I would like to be able to entertain the crowd more so that they would not think that I am a machine, but I also like to win. I am not talented enough to make jokes and play well. Some people can do that, but if I am smiling, chances are I am losing.”
My guess is that almost all players struggle at some level with wanting to appeal to spectators while being able to compete effectively. Those who can reconcile this conflict successfully win our praise and our admiration (Jimmy Connors, Mark Talbott and Peter Nicol all have done so -- albeit in very different ways).
There are, however, also those players who constantly struggle with wanting to be liked by spectators and wanting to win. If the player has reached the top levels of the sport, chances are that the balance tipped toward the winning. Often, we intuitively recognize this struggle and reward the successful competitor with our cheers. But occasionally, there is someone who seems to be worthy of our full admiration and never quite gets it. Occasionally, there is a Lendl. Or a Marty Clark.
By now, you know that Marty won his four national titles in six years at Groton this past March. You may also know that he was the only one of the semi-finalists who is not a full-time pro; he is a full-time medical student. Think about that: you have probably read one of the articles over the past decade or so that points out the difficulty of medical school -- how it eats away at the students' lives and how it dominates their time. It would be admirable if Marty were able to find time to play recreationally; it would be incredible if he were able to compete at a regional level; it truly is hard to fathom that he has [italics] won the nationals four times.[end italics]
Off the court, Marty has a sardonic sense of humor, he obviously is terribly bright, he has GQ looks and he wants desperately to help others by being a doctor. And yet, he still struggles with the fact that squash crowds seem always to root against him. Normally, he doesn’t show this, for showing it would be a sign of weakness that Marty is loath to admit is there. But occasionally, it bubbles forth. After one particularly unsettling match in this year’s nationals, he said, “I don’t get it; all I do is try my hardest and compete for every point. Why is that so unlikable?”
Perhaps it is because, like Lendl, Marty is a big man who hits a very heavy ball and who looks intimidating while on the court. Perhaps it is because while being one of only three American men to have played the international tour full-time, he learned how to compete. Perhaps it is because while battling in the qualifiers for food money in strange faraway places, he learned that winning as an American not raised on softball sometimes means winning ugly. And perhaps it is because if you don’t win ugly in just the right way, the fans don’t like you.
Lendl was number one in the world for seven straight years, but it took his retirement for the public to acknowledge the greatness of what he did; it may similarly take Marty’s retirement for us to truly realize what he has been able to do, but make no mistake about it: his accomplishments are worth acknowledging. Maybe someone should tell him.
