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Q & A: TUESDAY, AUGUST 24

Drucker on his new book: "Jimmy Connors Saved My Life"

In a season where there are many new tennis books – including works by noted coach Brad Gilbert and ex-pro Bill Scanlon – one work that caught our eye was "Jimmy Connors Saved My Life." Authored by Joel Drucker (a TR.net contributor), the book is both a biography and a memoir of Drucker's life as it intersected and conflicted with a man who's arguably the most important player in tennis history. A writer grafting his own life onto a player's is an unusual approach, but as the book reveals, Drucker has had a number of personal and professional interactions with Connors that go back nearly 30 years.

In this TennisReporters.net exclusive, reporter Karen Barton interviews Drucker on his longstanding obsession with Connors and an update on where Connors stands now.

TennisReporters.net: Why not a standard Connors biography?
Joel Drucker: For 15 years, I'd hoped to write an orthodox, authorized biography of Jimmy Connors. I've interviewed him many times and have accumulated a massive file of quotes, clips and tapes from his great matches. Once he even asked me to write a proposal to write his autobiography. But for a number of reasons mentioned in this book, that didn't happen. I think, in an odd way, Connors knew I was too curious about his tennis for my own good. Or do I mean his own good? The epilogue to the book explains his involvement, and in large part, sums up our odd relationship. Though he'd cringe to even use that word "relationship."

TR.net: So instead, what's the premise of this book? How does a tennis player save someone's life?
JD: I'm a true child of the tennis boom. I first picked up a racket in 1972, smack dab in the time when the sport was starting to become a big deal. And I also was growing up in LA, where Connors had come to polish his game with Pancho Segura. Connors worked out often at UCLA, which was just a couple of miles from where I lived.

TR.net: But you said you hated him at first. What changed?
JD: Yes, I thought he was a twerp, the complete personification of what we used to call a stuck-up, little tennis player. His tennis won me over. There were also a number of things in my personal life – from the time I spent in a very unique high school to my own matches and a family tragedy – that helped me appreciate what Connors was trying to do and how he went about doing it.

TR.net: And what was he doing?
JD: Connors showed me – and I think he showed lots of other people this too – that to make it in life you had to hit for the lines. Doing this wasn't as easy or smooth as people would lead you to believe. This gets to one of the book's main themes, which is that tennis isn't what people think it is. So many people believe it's a nice little game, a simple matter of determining who is more skilled at hitting the ball better. But that's barely got anything to do with what tennis is. Sure, for much of his career, Connors indeed hit the ball harder and deeper than anyone in tennis. But, at heart, tennis to him was like boxing: one-on-one combat, requiring not just skill, but high-powered intensity. Previous champs like [Bill] Tilden and [Bobby] Riggs, [Jack] Kramer and [Billie Jean] King, [John] Newcombe and [Margaret] Court, they all knew that too, but none of them jumped so heartily into the Open era to show it off the way Connors did. See, as a child, I was rather cerebral, and here was Connors, fully visceral. It electrified tennis –and charged me up too.

TR.net: You infer in some ways that Connors' 1991 run to the US Open semis was somewhat overvalued. How can that be?
JD: Everything about that year was pure gravy for Connors – a grand celebration of 20 years of excellence. But, at heart, nothing was at stake for him that year. He could have lost his first-round match to Patrick McEnroe 6-0, 6-0, 6-0 and his glistening resume would still been intact. But even more interesting to me in exploring Connors were the years when his resume hung in the balance. As early as when he was 23, there was talk that maybe he was a flash in the pan, that others would have longer and better careers. So many times – in '76, '78, '82 – Connors absolutely needed to triumph in a big way if he was to advance his cause as an enduring champ.

"As a child, I was rather cerebral, and here was Connors, fully visceral. It electrified tennis - and charged me up too."

– Joel Drucker

TR.net: Where do you think Connors fits into tennis history as a player?
JD: Discarding his cultural impact, his tennis record puts him probably behind the epic achievements of [Pete] Sampras, [Rod] Laver and probably even [Bjorn] Borg. But then there's a thick pile of players with disparate but superb results: Jack Kramer, Don Budge, Pancho Gonzales, Bill Tilden, Connors, [John] McEnroe, [Ivan] Lendl, [Andre] Agassi. It's tricky to assess this stuff given tennis in the pre-Open era and other factors. But Connors, for example, I rank just ahead of McEnroe. Even though at their best, McEnroe was probably better, Connors had a significantly better and longer career. After all, Connors was nearly seven years older and the two retired the same year.

TR.net: What surprised you in the course of your research?
JD: I don't think enough people realize what a fantastic instructor his mother Gloria was. She truly was a genius at breaking down the essentials of groundstrokes – much like someone like Robert Lansdorp has with his students Lindsay Davenport, Tracy Austin and Pete Sampras. Gloria was a maniac for footwork and swinging through the ball. I interviewed many of her students and was quite impressed at how she kept them moving, motivated – and never overtrained them either. Ken Flach, the great doubles player and Davis Cup star of the '80s, told me how she helped him build a great return of serve.

TR.net: Anything more on Jimbo's personal, emotional side?
JD: It wasn't so much surprising as sad to see how the price of Connors' success has been this self-imposed loneliness, this barrier he puts between himself and others that's lasted his whole life. It's as if the only thing in the world he recognizes as authentic is what he calls "the tennis" – virtually always prefaced with "the" as if it was something sacred. Everything else to him is so much more BS, so much more ambiguous, so filled with people who demand pieces of you and whose sincerity is questionable. Here's a guy who could get a standing ovation anywhere he goes but constantly backs off because he allegedly wants more money (not that he needs it) or doesn't want to join arms with others. I mean, why wouldn't he show up at Newport for the Hall of Fame's 50th anniversary celebration? He's just got to be his own man for the sake of being his own man. And, as you get on in life, is that really necessary?

TR.net: So what's he do instead?
JD: The book talks about how he plays golf, stays in touch with his mother and, as for tennis, well, you'll have to see the book for that.

TR.net: How do you think he'll regard this book?
JD: Probably on three levels. First, he'll probably blow his top and be ticked that in his eyes I'm making hay off his name and great career – which I am, but to me it's what I'd call a complicated valentine. Jimbo, shouldn't you at least be curious about a man who says you saved his life? You spent your whole career wanting to reach people; so here we are. At the second level, he might regard me as a twisted, deranged lunatic who's probed into so much of his tennis and has also dared to give his own life equal billing. What nerve! And third – and I'll likely wonder forever about this – somewhere in there Connors might see just how deeply I've studied and sought to understand and appreciate his fanatical dedication to this vastly-misunderstood sport. And the only way I could do that was to throw myself into him with all the passion he brought to tennis.

For more information, go to www.sportclassicbooks.com. To order this book, go to www.amazon.com.