I Would Never Put My Kid Through That

It's the Environment...

During Easter break 2011 in sunny Southern California, a client and I were on a backcourt at Rancho Las Palmas Country Club in Rancho Mirage, CA, working on a teaching video with tennis videographer John Yandell for his seminal site Tennisplayer.net. Yet I'm struggling to keep my focus, for off in the distance, I hear the faint echoes of sounds once familiar, the crack of a well-struck ball of high-level junior tennis being played.

On a break, I venture off for a closer look, the hypnotic draw of elite ball striking guiding my way. It’s magnetic, in my DNA, the lure of a bounce, hit, bounce hit, cadence, the sound of squeaking shoes, more break pads than comfort, the guttural grunting exertions of a full-throttle swing. The rhythm, the cadence, it’s the soundtrack of my youth—a fully committed tennis rally. I know of few more beautiful sounds.

The players come into view, two identically clad teens head to toe in the latest Adidas kits. They're professional mini-mes, yet there's nothing mini about them. They're full-grown beasts tearing the cover off each ball. I'm in instant awe at their physical prowess and power. Then a strange thought. That used to be me some 30 years ago, (and pounds) moving like that, swinging like that. Now safely ensconced in adulthood, the mold of middle age well-hardened about me, and another thought appears from the ether. If I'm old enough to be their parents, maybe they're the offspring of peers from my playing days.

A quick perusal of the poster board-sized draws and only one surname rings a bell: Mac Styslinger, the son of old Junior Davis Cup teammate Mark Styslinger. Strong pedigree indeed, and little surprise his son was a favorite to capture the title. I continued scouring the draws, but to my surprise, Styslinger was the only familiar surname from my era. Something seemed amiss about this. I mean, who better to raise the next generation of American tennis talent than those who lived the life before?

Curious, I began reaching out to my tennis peers, asking them why so many chose not to raise their kids in the tennis life that gave us so much. And then I heard the answer that would change the following years of my life.

Talking to a gal friend from my playing days, I asked her why she never put her kids in tennis, and she stated

"I would never put my kids through that."

And her answer cut deep. What is the 'that' she spoke of? What was so traumatizing about the junior tennis experience for so many of my generation, so much so that they felt compelled to protect their kids from the sport that gave us so much?

I'd always known tennis was stressful, traumatizing even. Right on the cusp of breaking through, I succumbed to the pressure, quitting on my dreams with much meaningful tennis not getting played.

But I compartmentalized the experience, not giving it the proper thought it was due. As I continued to ask around, I found more and more of my peers sharing similar sentiments. The life we lived as aspiring young tennis players left some marks. And they'll be damned if they put their kids throught the same "that' they went through.

And so began my exploration of what was unhealthy about our collective tennis environment, whether we have made progress over the past generations, and what can be done to improve the quality of the tennis environment for all parties involved.

It is because the tennis environment is stressful!

In the posts to come, I will explore in detail what it was like growing up in tennis, showcase present-day situations of players succumbing to the stressors of the environment, discuss what improvements tennis has made in this regard, and discuss what we all can do as tennis players to improve the environment we all compete within.