Rising Star

In the relatively small world of wheelchair tennis, word of new talent spreads fast. Two years ago, Conner Stroud hadn’t even played the sport. Today, he’s a top U.S. junior prospect.

Stroud, 14, was born without hips, ankles, femurs or knees, a birth defect called bilateral Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency (PFFD). He may not be a typical star athlete, but Stroud hails from a self-proclaimed tennis family. His dad, Dewey, competed in college and coaches at a club in Forest City, NC; his mom, Rita, teaches and coaches as well; and Conner’s sister played in college. So perhaps it’s not surprising that Conner began hitting as a toddler and demonstrated a key trait any tennis hopeful, able-bodied or disabled, must exhibit: Exceptional hand-eye coordination.

Stroud began playing in able-bodied tournaments at age 5. Rita remembers being skeptical, but soon saw that Conner’s confidence was well-founded. At an age when many children struggle with such basics as consistently hitting the ball with the racquet face, Stroud had the strokes and placement to win matches, despite his physical disadvantage. He also naturally excelled at doubles, where there was less ground to cover.

“When he was in seventh grade, I was a coach for his middle school team,” Rita says. “He was one of the best players, despite his movement.”

Over the years, as the players on the other side of the net grew taller, stronger, and more well trained, wheelchair tennis loomed on the horizon, but Conner resisted. “We said, ‘Maybe one day you can try wheelchair tennis,’ but he didn’t want to,” Rita remembers. Furthermore, when the Strouds first looked into the possibility, they could identify only one competitive wheelchair junior player in North Carolina—and on the other side of the state at that.

Nevertheless, as Stroud settled into his teens, it became more and more difficult for him to compete against able-bodied opponents. So he decided to participate in a wheelchair tennis clinic run by Bridge II Sports, the USTA North Carolina, and the Orthotic and Prosthetic Activities Foundation (OPAF).

Wheelchair tennis player Karin Korb, who ran the clinic, recognized Conner’s potential, even before he tried a chair. “I saw him running around hitting on his [amputated legs],” she recalls. (As a young boy, Stroud had his feet amputated, leaving only the heels, which doctors believed would make it easier for him to walk.) “I thought, ‘He’s amazing. If he could just pop into a chair, we could have the next No. 1 male player in the works.’”

Stroud did indeed get in a wheelchair, and impressed Korb, largely because he’d already put in the requisite years to groove rock-solid strokes. Well aware of the media attention he’d already attracted, Korb pulled the teenager aside for a heart-to-heart, encouraging him to be wary of the “poster child” mentality that she saw as a threat to his talent and instead focus on the basics—hard work and improvement.

Korb also invited Stroud to attend a joint Cruyff Foundation, USTA and ITF wheelchair tennis camp in Mission Viejo, CA, in the summer of 2013.

Dan James, national manager of wheelchair tennis for the USTA, had heard of Conner before the camp: “I had got wind of him, and seen a video of this kid playing on his stumps,” James recalls. “He hit a good ball standing up, but we had no expectations whatsoever.”

Stroud again distinguished himself in Mission Viejo, and with encouragement from the USTA, returned home with a new direction. With his father as coach, he began training for wheelchair tennis, adjusting his grips (one hand has to be on the wheel most of the time) and cutting back on the topspin previously required from his relatively low vantage point. It was a small price to pay, he says, for the time he has to get to the ball and competing on a level playing field, although he misses hitting like his idol Rafael Nadal, whom he met at the 2013 US Open.

Despite her son’s initial resistance to wheelchair tennis, Rita says that the camp proved a heartening experience. “Even though wheelchair players can play with able-bodied [players], it’s nice to play with somebody that’s like you, even though they’re not exactly like you,” Rita says. “Their disability may be completely different, but the wheelchair brings a togetherness that nothing else can.”

To help his son make the transition, and glean a sense of the requirements of wheelchair tennis, Dewey played in a loaner chair during their practices. “He’d beat me,” says the proud dad. “And I was trying. It was close, but he usually won.”

Stroud, who played his first wheelchair tournament in September 2013, is glad he made the switch: “It gives me an easier way to play tennis,” he says. He also finds comfort in the common ground of the wheelchair community. “It’s very fun. Everybody is each other’s friends; when the competition begins, it’s competition, but you still relate to everybody and talk.”

Korb, who serves as the USTA’s national junior wheelchair coach for the World Team Cup, continues to see great potential in Stroud. “He’s very stealthy,” she says. “He watches and processes, then executes.” Stroud was part of the World Team Cup junior team that traveled to the Netherlands to represent the U.S. in May.

Stroud’s threshold for success in able-bodied tennis may have been limited, but in wheelchair tennis, the sky’s the limit, and his aspiration is to go pro. “When I get older, I want to be a top player and travel around the world and play tournaments,” he says. “I want to be one of the top Americans, and then one of the top players worldwide.”

Whether Stroud will attain his goal is difficult to judge at this age. Just as many able-bodied juniors fall by the tennis wayside, early wheelchair success doesn’t necessarily carry over into adulthood. “If I measure his heart and drive, he’s going to be No. 1 in the world,” James says. “But you also have to measure physical size and strength, and what’s going to happen as outside stimuli come into his life. We’ve tapped him as a Top 3 junior, probably Top 2. But as with any other junior, we have to see how these things unfold.”

James also cautions that with Stroud, as with all young athletes, there’s another dimension: “Even as our national head coach and Paralympic coach, I take a different approach with kids,” he says. “I have a high expectation of work ethic and commitment, but also of enjoyment. There are going to be tough days, but we try really hard to ensure that the kids have fun when they’re working hard, so that we don’t burn those kids up.”

As with so much about wheelchair tennis, there’s a lot there that applies to all athletes, whether they play in a chair, or on their feet.