I recently finished A Tennis Life: Tales from the Ad Court by Lane Evans, a longtime tennis professional whose career has included playing, teaching, managing clubs, developing programs, and educating other coaches. After spending more than five decades in the sport, Evans has accumulated plenty of stories to tell, and fortunately, he is a good storyteller.
The book is functionally a memoir, although it doesn’t follow that conventional format. Instead, Evans presents a collection of short, self-contained essays drawn from different periods of his life. There is no particular narrative progression, and some of the stories have nothing to do with tennis. I rather liked that approach. Even for a person who has devoted much of their life to tennis, there is more to the person than what happens on the court. The individual essays are consistently engaging, and the format makes this an easy book to pick up for a story or two without worrying about where you left off.
This is the first of three books Evans has published. At one point, he mentions that he loves writing but isn’t certain he could make himself sit down and do it every day. Having published something on Fiend at Court every day for nearly seven years, I found that observation particularly amusing. Writing every day isn’t nearly as difficult as people imagine. It is also considerably harder than it looks. Somehow, both statements are true.
Evans is also an enthusiastic reader, with more than 2,000 books in his house. That made me wonder how many books I have accumulated over the years. The number of new physical books entering my collection has declined considerably since I started reading more on Kindle, although there is still something satisfying about holding an actual book. Ironically, I purchased and read A Tennis Life electronically. Evans also mentions several titles that have now found their way onto my prospective reading list, which is something I always appreciate in a book.
We have another interest in common. Evans spent part of his career managing tennis clubs and developed a genuine appreciation for cooking and food preparation. I can relate. There is something appealing about discovering that someone whose professional identity revolves around tennis is equally enthusiastic about what happens in the kitchen.
Of course, the tennis stories are what initially brought me to the book, and Evans has plenty of those. I particularly enjoyed his account of accompanying a women’s 55+ 8.0 USTA League team to Nationals, along with his observations about why tennis professionals generally avoid those events whenever possible. Having spent a fair amount of time around USTA League competition myself, I understood exactly what he was talking about.
In another essay, Evans describes USTA League play as brutal and not for the weak. He also offers some unequivocal career advice: the best time for a tennis director to captain a ladies’ USTA League team is NEVER. Those capital letters are his, not mine. Anyone who has spent much time navigating the personalities, expectations, and absurdities of adult league tennis will appreciate the sentiment, even if they don’t entirely agree with it.
His ode to Shoe Goo brought back another set of memories. If you know, you know. There was a time when tennis players wore their shoes until the soles were practically gone, then attempted to squeeze a little more life out of them with a tube of adhesive. We considered shoes properly broken in at a point when some players today would already be thinking about replacing them.
These personal stories provide much of the entertainment, but they aren’t the book’s most consequential contribution. Evans has a larger objective than recounting an interesting life. He wants to inspire people to become involved in coaching and, particularly, to help develop tennis in communities where the sport has struggled to establish a foothold.
That is where his considerable professional experience becomes especially valuable. Evans discusses the practical work involved in developing programs, attracting participants, and creating opportunities for people to become involved in tennis. The underlying challenge is much larger than finding someone who can teach people how to hit a forehand.
He also provides concrete examples of the charitable side of tennis, including occasions when he recognized someone who needed help and decided to do something about it. Those experiences give substance to his larger message about service and community. Developing tennis isn’t exclusively about producing better players or building successful businesses. It can also mean creating opportunities for people who otherwise might never have access to the sport.
Much of this material is particularly relevant to teaching professionals and people interested in coaching careers. Evans encourages coaches to expand their capabilities beyond the technical demands of tennis instruction. One of his recommendations is to pursue certification in something outside the sport. He followed that advice himself by becoming a certified fitness trainer.
I think that is excellent advice. Tennis knowledge is obviously important for someone teaching tennis, but it represents only part of the expertise required to be an effective coach. Understanding physical development, communication, learning, motivation, and the organizational aspects of running a program can make someone considerably more capable. Experiences outside tennis can also provide perspectives that are difficult to acquire when everything in your professional life revolves around the same sport.
I’m not a tennis teaching professional, so I am not exactly the target audience for some of this material. Nevertheless, I appreciated Evans’s approach to developing the sport. His emphasis on establishing programs and building communities reflects an understanding that participation doesn’t simply happen because tennis is a good game. Someone has to create the conditions that make participation possible, then do the work required to sustain it.
That may be the most important distinction between this book and a conventional collection of coaching advice. Evans has spent a lifetime teaching people to play tennis, but many of his most valuable observations concern the people, organizations, and relationships that allow the sport to flourish in the first place.
A Tennis Life succeeds on two levels. It is an entertaining collection of personal essays from someone who has accumulated an extraordinary range of experiences in and around tennis. It also provides an experienced professional’s perspective on what it takes to introduce people to the sport and keep them involved. Coaches and aspiring coaches will probably find the greatest practical value, but there is plenty here for anyone who appreciates the people who make tennis possible.
I came for the tennis stories and found myself enjoying the excursions into books, cooking, writing, and the other interests that have shaped Evans’s life. Those departures fit comfortably within a memoir about someone whose career has been devoted to tennis. After all, a tennis life is still a life.
A Tennis Life: Tales From the Ad Court (<- Sponsored Link)
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