I fell in love with tennis the first time I hit a ball. I loved the feel of the ball on the racquet. I loved being in control of my own shots. I loved that you didn’t have anyone but yourself to rely on. It’s up to you how you train and practice to get better. Your destiny on the court is entirely in your own hands.
I would go on to play professional tennis and win twenty Women’s Tennis Association doubles titles and compete in dozens of Grand Slam tournaments. I played from Melbourne to Russia and everywhere in between. I am now the president of the United States Tennis Association. Tennis opened up the world for me.
But it almost never happened.
I started playing tennis kind of by accident. When I was six years old, in 1975, I attended a summer program run by the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boys Club on Chicago’s West Side. (The clubs were later renamed the Boys & Girls Clubs of America because several girls also attended and participated in club activities.) My older brothers were part of the program, which was for kids between nine and eighteen years old.
My parents were public-school teachers and taught summer school, so I had to tag along with my brothers. This left me on the side, watching them and the other kids practice. I had a great deal of confidence that I could not only play as well as they could but that I could beat them. So every day, I begged the coaches to allow me to play. They finally gave in and decided to give me a chance. By the end of the program, I was named the Most Improved Player of the entire summer.
Don’t forget: All the other campers were older than I was and had six weeks to practice. I had only four.
Though I loved tennis, I never thought of playing the sport as a profession. My parents were teachers, so that’s what I initially aspired to be. Somewhere along the way, I thought I would become an accountant (even though I didn’t like math). I didn’t choose tennis as a pathway until my middle teens, when I became the Illinois High School Association singles champion. Eventually, I earned a scholarship to Northwestern University, where I won the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s doubles championship. And from there, I started competing professionally.
Not everyone is able to find success out on the tour coming from my background. I was one of fewer than a dozen African-American tennis players at the professional level during my tenure. I felt pressure to represent my family, the kids I grew up training with in Chicago, my community, my entire race.
I owe a lot to tennis; I found myself on the court. Tennis allows you to be your true self. Your personality emerges from your style of play and how you act on the court. I have an assertive personality and a gung ho attitude—those traits translated into an aggressive game. Unlike other girls who were told to be sweeter and calmer and more reserved, I was encouraged to wear my emotions on my sleeve and show my passion. I learned to be proud of who I am and work my hardest every single day on the court and, eventually, in the boardroom.
I also owe just as much to the people who helped me achieve my dreams. A village truly does raise a child—and I had a tennis village to raise me. When I first started, I was the youngest in my group. The other girls were teenagers—I looked up to them as big sisters. Though my brothers only played that one summer, they became my biggest fans and would end up driving me to many practices.
My parents also supported me every step of the way. I didn’t understand until I was older how much my parents had sacrificed to support my path as a tennis player, but they did what was necessary to make sure I had the opportunities provided for me to be the best that I could be. When my parents weren’t able to take me to tournaments, Helyn Edwards, a woman who competed on the pro circuit, practiced with me and made sure I could get to my matches. I am so grateful to her.
When I retired from playing tennis, I turned to a life of service. I went straight into being a national coach. I was one of two African-American coaches at that time and one of three female coaches, but I was highly respected because of my success as a player and the way I communicated and worked with the players. They looked up to me, both the boys and the girls. At the end of the day, when you’re a professional player, you’re your own boss. My responsibilities were so much greater when I became a coach because nothing was about me. It was all about someone else.
As the president of the United States Tennis Association and only the fourth woman in this role, I’m always trying to figure out how to support others, especially our younger players and those who come from backgrounds that may not be as familiar with tennis, especially within the Hispanic community. In addition, I focus on making sure women have leadership roles in the association. It’s vital to continue to diversify the image of our sport. On all levels and in all categories. People tend to think that the USTA wants to get everyone involved in tennis to be a professional player, but that’s not the case. We want people to get into the sport for the pure sake of the sport and for the health benefits of being active. It’s the sport of a lifetime. People from five to ninety-five years old are playing tennis. It’s a sport for a lifetime.
UNLIKE OTHER GIRLS WHO WERE TOLD TO BE SWEETER AND CALMER AND MORE RESERVED, I WAS ENCOURAGED TO WEAR MY EMOTIONS ON MY SLEEVE AND SHOW MY PASSION.
Whenever I speak to young players, I tell them to embrace the path that they lead. We’re all put on certain paths whether we choose them or not. There’s always going to be a journey. There’s no easy way to the top. There are always going to be challenges.
Enjoy the battle.