Fred Stolle, Australian tennis legend and beloved friend, dies at 86

When it comes to demonstrating such fundamental principles as hard work, grace under pressure, first-rate sportsmanship and loyalty to one’s mates, no tennis nation stands taller than Australia. Sadly, one of this tennis powerhouse’s greatest legends, Fred Stolle, died Wednesday at the age of 86.

A 1985 International Tennis Hall of Fame inductee, the man nicknamed “Fiery” was a beloved member of the international tennis community for more than 60 years.

Stolle left his mark on the game in many ways: champion player, top-tier coach, prominent broadcaster. Those who knew him well cherished Stolle’s razor-sharp wit, first-rate mind, and deep capacity for friendship and fun. As Stolle liked to say, “For us Aussies, it was simple: ‘first to the net, first to the pub.’”

Born on October 8, 1938, Stolle grew up in Sydney and came of age smack in the middle of Australia’s “Golden Era”—that period from 1950-’75 when the Aussies ruled tennis with an iron grip—and spectacular proficiency at serve-and-volley tennis. During his prime years in the 1960s, Stolle excelled at both, owning one of the finest serves in the game, all backed up by crisp, nimble volleys. Those were the skills that helped him win 19 Grand Slam titles: two in singles, ten in men’s doubles, seven in mixed.

Stolle’s singles majors came at Roland Garros in 1965 and at the U.S. Nationals (now the US Open) a year later. In New York, Stolle was unseeded—a surprising move made by the tournament organizers that deeply motivated him, for this was a man who thrived on being underestimated.

Making his way through the draw with poise and precision, Stolle in the last two rounds beat dear mates Roy Emerson and John Newcombe. Upon earning the title, wrote Rod Laver in his book, The Golden Era, Stolle said, “When I missed out on a seeding, I reckoned they must have just considered me a bloody old hacker. Well, it seems the old hacker can still play a bit.”

For Australians, though, Grand Slam victories took a back seat to national pride—that is, the chance to represent their homeland in Davis Cup. Here too, Stolle had to earn his keep. Australian Davis Cup captain Harry Hopman initially was not particularly high on young Stolle’s prospects.

“But I was determined to show ‘Hop’ I had what it took to play a role on the team,” he told me years later.

The big chance came in 1964, when Stolle won many crucial singles and doubles matches, joining forces with Emerson to bring the Cup Down Under once again.

“That was the Holy Grail,” said Stolle, “working together to win it with your mates and for your country.” He also was a mainstay of Australia’s 1965 and ’66 championship teams.

While his singles career wound down by the early ‘70s, Stolle played excellent doubles deep into his 40s. Most memorably, at the 1981 US Open, the 42-year-old Stolle partnered with the 37-year-old Newcombe to reach the semis, a requiem run only ended by what was then the best team in the world, John McEnroe and Peter Fleming, in a fifth-set tiebreaker.

Stolle’s late-stage doubles efforts came while he was concurrently teaching at venues in Tucson and near Miami, commencing a lengthy broadcasting career with Australian Channel 9 and ESPN, and coaching a fellow Hopman-coached netrusher, Vitas Gerulaitis—a relationship so close that Fred considered Vitas his second son. Stolle’s first son, Sandon, also became a world-class player, winning 22 ATP doubles titles. Sandon’s victory at the ’98 US Open meant the Stolles had become the only father and son to have each earned Grand Slam titles.

For a journalist and tennis history aficionado, Stolle was a delight to cover: accessible, friendly, insightful. It was also fantastic getting to know him more when, in 1995, I began to annually attend “Tennis Fantasies with John Newcombe and the Legends,” a once-a-year fantasy camp located at Newcombe’s Texas ranch.

Stolle was a regular part of the mix, each year reliably serving as coach, comedian and, most of all, friend.

“Competition and camaraderie, that’s what it’s all about,” he liked to say about the years he’d devoted to tennis. “For all the matches you play and win and lose, what matters in the end are the friendships you build all around the world.”

Tennis has lost one of the best friends it’s ever had.