by Pete Bodo
"Tradition" has always been a loaded word in tennis: Depending on the reference and how the word is used, it can signify something grand and deeply valuable, or something that makes fans, especially the uninitiated, roll their eyes. (The guy just saved a break point when his shot ticked the net and flew by his opponent, what's he apologizing for?)
But tradition is merely the residue of history; it cannot exist without extensive precedent, and it's a kind of stamp of authenticity, even in its more eccentric articulations. (Like showing your opponent that you're serving with new balls. Shouldn't he be aware of that kind of thing, a first-time spectator is entitled to wonder.) But this is how we evolved, this is how we do things, because we exist on a historical continuum, shaped over more than a century by conventions, some outdated.
Of course, the Open era, now well over 40 years old, put some severe stress on tradition. For starters it was a de facto repudiation of the most sacred tenant of the old school, which is that tennis ought to be a game pursued by gentlemen. Amateurs. Keep it pure. The original purpose of games like tennis was character-building. The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton and all that stuff. The new purpose, in the Open era, was choosing champions from among all comers, and the advancement of tennis as a legitimate profession.
None of that was lost on JIm McManus, the 70-year old ATP tour lifer who was a founding member of the organization. He basically worked there all of his adult life. McManus was good at many things, starting with the game itself. He grew up in northern California, then more of a tennis epicenter than it is presently. He was, according to his long-time friend J. Wayne Richmond (presently General Manager of the U.S. Open Series and a veteran of numerous tennis wars), perhaps the first world-class pro to play with a two-handed grip on both sides. McManus was an All-American at Berkeley, and an NCAA doubles finalist back when guys like Arthur Ashe, Bob Lutz and Stan Smith played collegiate tennis.
McManus's most memorable resuts were a doubles quarterfinal at Wimbledon, and a win over Rod Laver in doubles at the U.S. Open. "There have been so many great memories," he told me yesterday. "At the first U.S. Open, I beat Sergei Likhovtsov (something tells me this might be Elena Likhovtsova's father, but I couldn't find confirmation of that), one of the very first Russian players allowed out of the Soviet Union to play the tour. I won in five sets on the grass at Forest Hills."
McManus doesn't recall the fifth-set score of that one, which is uncharacteristic for a guy who's spent so much of his life crunching numbers and statistics and doing nitty-gritty organizational work at the ATP. He played a major role in developing the ranking system, the entry system, and even the pension plan. The ginger-haired McManus, who bears a striking resemblance to Rod Laver, managed to stay below the general public and even media and tournament-promoter radar. It took a certain sort of genius, but McManus was a player and organization guy. He couldn't give a hoot about recognition in the big picture.
Although he's battling serious health issues as I write this, McManus' legacy with the ATP is secure. I'd be shocked if the outfit didn't eventually name some award for him. Oddly enough, one of his largest contributions, and the one destined to last longest as an entity that bears a unique, personal stamp, is a project he undertook more or less on his own, as a labor of love. It's a book called, simply and appropriately, Tennis History. You'll notice I didn't link to Amazon.com. That's because the book is self-published, as befits a man who always shied away from the limelight and the deal-making.
The book represents McManus's effort to catalog every pro tournament ever played, with the names of the winners and runners-up in singles and doubles. Want to know who won that ATP 250 grade tournament that started life as the Insurance Company Open then morphed into the Adult Beverage Classic, then moved to Europe and became the Credit Card Challenge? McManus is your man. He recently sent me a copy of his book, and it will be an invaluable resource.
McManus embarked on his project sometime in 1990, because he had a growing feeling that tennis executives and promoters—the Mark Mileses, Larry Scotts, and Charlie Pasarells—knew surprisingly little about the history of most tournaments. "They were the power brokers, wheeling and dealing and trying to figure out which tournaments to keep and which to eliminate. They were good at building great big stadiums and marketing events, but the way operated left me thinking that could care less about the history of the game. A tournament like Montreal may have seemed dispensible to them for various reasons, but few of them knew that the event had been played since 1881. It's the second oldest event in tennis, after Wimbledon. And that ought to count for something in the calculations."
One of the delights of the book is the Table of Contents. Section I, titled "The Tour," lists the tournaments that presently exist, in order of age (starting with Wimbledon and the Canadian Open aka Montreal/Toronto/Rogers Cup). Did you know that the SAP Open (San Jose) is the fifth longest running tournament, and was first played three years before the first French Open (Roland Garros)?
Well, it just gets better from there, at least for those of you who are curious about the history of the game, and who won what, where and when (McManus even includes the tournament results from the wives tournament that was once a staple of the Alan King Tennis Classic in Las Vegas. The first "wives" champions were Jenny Hoad and Wilma Rosewall; the last were Rosemary Gullikson [wife of the late Tim] and Debbie Kronk).
For his research, McManus pulled everything from the ATP computer. He also wrote to the events, defunct ones as well as present tour stops, collected ancient programs, old issues of World Tennis magazine, and various yearbooks published by everyone from the USTA to the Spaulding sporting goods company. He left no stone unturned.
Of course, there are some blank spots—McManus is still trying to track down the results from what was once a flourishing Caribbean circuit ("I played it," he said. "I remember seeing Roy Emerson and Manuel Santana walking around at the events. But I can't find anything on them."), or the early results from the original Munich tournament. As a self-published work, there are typographical errors here and there, but the book is well-organized, easily read (if that's the right word for perusing lists punctuated by text introductions). In fact, McManus' own notes on the tournaments, including minutes from ATP meetings and notable facts about the events (did you know that the Metz, France, event was canceled in 2001 because of a terrible explosion at a chemical factory near the facility?), are nothing less than fascinating.
The book is a large format paperback, printed on good stock, with a handsome cover. It contains no pictures. McManus is presently working with tennis publishing entrepreneur Randy Walker of New Chapter Media. I hope they can figure out a way to bring this book further into the mainstream, so you could at least find it at Amazon.com or in select bookstores.
I'll keep you posted on that, but meanwhile, if you're dying to get your hands on a copy, just send $24 to Jim at 1205 Salt Creek Island Drive, Ponte Vedra Beach, Fla. 32082. Or email Jim at macatpvb@aol.com. The check better not bounce, either; although age is catching up with Jim, this is a guy who once ran the Boston marathon in under three hours, and then played pro doubles less than a week later, on the other side of the continent.