Tennis is a sport you can never fully master. As a player, and now as a coach to Andy Murray, I have never stopped learning. At the highest level, you’ll fail as a player if you’re not striving to better yourself, and I now try to approach coaching in the same way.
When I was playing, I was always looking for an edge, whether from nutrition, fitness or psychological strength, and I now use everything I can to give Andy an advantage. That includes keeping track of new trends in tennis and also what athletes are doing in other sports. Whether I’m playing or coaching, I’ve always wanted to do my best.
I’ll be courtside at the Barclays ATP World Tour Finals next week to support Andy. In the company of more than 30 fellow competitors from the 1980s – who have been invited as special guests – I’ll also be taking the opportunity to recall my memories of the Masters, as the Barclays ATP World Tour Finals was known then. One of the proudest achievements of my career was winning five titles from nine straight finals at the Masters from 1980-88. Those appearances all came during the tournament’s 13-year residency at Madison Square Garden in New York from 1977-1989, when tennis came alive in the electric atmosphere inside that arena. I’m sure the players from the 1980s will also be reflecting on the growth of men’s tennis in the past 30 years, since we were competing for this title.
A tournament’s long-term success can be attributed to having a home at a good site, which enables it to become an ‘identity event’. Now in its eighth year on the Greenwich peninsula, the Barclays ATP World Tour Finals has improved on the traditions of Madison Square Garden and enjoyed unprecedented growth, attracting around 260,000 fans to the season finale each November.
In the first seven years of this tournament, which was established in Tokyo in 1970, the venue rotated between cities and continents to demonstrate the worldwide impact of the sport. But in 1977 the ATP was convinced that for the Masters to be a prestige event it needed to be held in the United States. The decision to switch the year-end championships to Madison Square Garden in the heart of New York City, from December to an even colder, more wintery week in January, was made because it had been up against American football. It was controversial because the year-end title would be contested at the start of a new season [up to 1986, when it reverted back to a December date], but the timing was great: wedged, as it was, between the NFL conference play-offs and the Super Bowl. The move guaranteed network TV broadcasts, ticket sales and an avid American audience.
Early matches, such as Guillermo Vilas’ round-robin win over Jimmy Connors in 1977, watched by 16,000 beyond 1am, or John McEnroe’s generational clash against Arthur Ashe in the 1978 final, ensured that if you happened to have been wandering past outside you would have thought that the New York Knicks or Rangers had won another championship, such was the thunder from the rafters. The Masters regularly had ratings of more than double the US Open finals, at the time. Madison Square Garden inspired players, such as Bjorn Borg, Connors, Vitas Gerulaitis, McEnroe and Vilas, that tennis in the ‘biggest deal’ arena in the world was worth tailoring their autumn schedules and fighting to play for. The Garden – conjuring mystique, ambience and aura – had finally given the Masters an identity.
My induction came, aged 20, in January 1981, six months after I had bought a house in Greenwich, Connecticut. I had never slept well in the city, as it was too loud. But staying in the comfort of my own home, after gallivanting around the world the rest of the year, meant I could drive the 35 miles or so into the city each day. McEnroe, who’d visited the Garden every year since he was seven, travelled in from Douglaston, Queens. The other players, who stayed in the city, often seemed to endure a longer journey on to site.
Although I initially wasn’t so keen on indoor tennis, or the crowds and the atmosphere, I grew to like it. Contested at the start of a new season, the majority of players were refreshed and eager to play the Masters. The court at the Garden was put down on felt four or five days before the tournament began, and each player was able to practise on the fast court for an hour – 24 hours before first ball. I can still remember playing Borg in my first of nine straight finals, in January 1981, when I’d established myself as a consistent player; sitting and preparing in one of the 20 stalls where the New York Knicks and Rangers, or legendary boxers, had been; and the short walk from the locker room up to the court, which was lit surprisingly bright.
Playing in front of close to 19,000 spectators in New York City each winter, and some of the most influential people in various industries, made for an electric atmosphere. The enormous scoreboard hung over the court and reduced the maximum height that you could hit a lob. Cigarette smoke, at times, clouded the air. Fans were right on top of the court, cheering on their favourites, such as Connors, who had a terrific following at the Masters, or ‘Mr New York’, Gerulaitis, who was a massive personality. It was a daunting and intimidating arena with all its sporting history.
Players came alive in that arena. Competing at the Masters was a very big deal. Along with your titles and your ranking, it was another benchmark achievement. It was never easy and you could never be confident of getting the win. Even today, when I visit the Garden, I can see people’s eyes are wide open.
Controlled conditions suited my game. My first year-end title over Gerulaitis in January 1982, when I recovered from two sets to love and match point down, stands out in the memory. As does going against doctor’s orders to rest my shoulder in order to compete in 1988, when my fifth set tie-break loss to Becker in the final ended in a 37-stroke rally and a net cord winner. It’s difficult to compare my Masters record and reaching eight consecutive US Open finals (1982-89) as sometimes you can win a major and only beat one Top 10 player.
Inquisitive and competitive by nature, I studied everything I did, making detailed notes on players and matches in books, as improvement is something that takes time. I always knew you can’t make concrete adjustments immediately. It can take a pro six months to incorporate any changes into his game. I was studious, but not methodical. I was able to maintain focus and had enormous emotional drive. I hope I forced my rivals to think differently.
I was serious on the court, but I was a very different person in private off the court – always joking around and playing practical jokes. I always remember 20 years ago coming out of a lift in New York with my agent, Jerry Solomon, and a writer from the LA Times. Halfway through the interview, one of the questions was: ‘When did you get so funny?’ I told the journalist I always had been. Having spent years giving deadpan answers in press conferences, the media portrayed me as menacing and robotic on court, and therefore didn’t look for another side to me off the court.
The Barclays ATP World Tour Finals is assured of its future at The O2, the world’s biggest entertainment arena, through to 2018. Everyone hopes and dreams of competing on the blue court, under the spotlights. Just as I, and dozens of my rivals, did all those years ago.
Ivan Lendl spoke to James Buddell.