!88774856 by Pete Bodo
As you read this, Devin Britton is somewhere in Spain (actually, he's at the Barcelona Total Tennisacademy, training for a few weeks before he dips his foot into the competitive waters at a few local Futures events. This is a somewhat bold and counter-intuitive move - why shouldn't this American kid stay closer to home, training at the USTA Training Ccenter in Boca Raton, Fla., and play Futures events he can get to without taking along his passport?
It's partly because the brain trust at the USTA Player Development program - Patrick McEnroe, Jose Higueras, Jay Berger - all felt it was in Britton's best interest to go overseas to grub and grind, navigate the perils of a different culture, and learn at the feet of some of the tennis pros and theoreticians behind the enormous success of Spanish players on the pro tour.
The trip is also bound to be something of a wake-up call for Britton, the 18-year old from Brandon, Ms., who last Spring became the youngest singles champion in NCAA tournament history, playing on behalf of the University of Mississippi, or Ole Miss. (If you want the basics and more, check out my Rod Laver Don't Fish post, which I filed from Wimbledon last June).
One of the inhibiting factors in US tennis in recent years has been the softness of so many young American players. It's a liability borne of privilege and good fortune; our players in general are, if not exactly coddled, accustomed to an inordinate degree of unearned degree of status and entitlement. They're showered with things that mean a lot to kids, like free equipment, and courted as obsequiously as if they were pashas by agents, academies, equipment manufacturers and other representatives of the tennis industry.
Meanwhile, even in a relatively wealthy, tennis-conversant nation like Spain, players simply don't have the same amount of opportunity and support. Hence, many players from Europe and South America just come through the pipeline a little tougher, a little more realistic, a little more aware that they must earn everything they get. That can make a huge difference when a youth is establishing the basic framework for a career, and his or her own expectations of it.
This can be an especially important issue for Britton, less because of his nature than his background, which has been pretty low-key and relatively sheltered. The pace of life is slower in the American south, and the quality of life relatively high for anyone in the middle class. Layer on some of the perks and instant validation that can accrue to a talented kid like Britton (after all, just days after the US Open, he was a guest in a luxury box at the Astrodome for a New Orleans Saints game), and you can see the potential problem. Let's call it the threat posed by developing a false sense of security and entitlement.
None of this is Britton's doing, of course. he's just a kid whose own website features a parody of a familiar hand-scrawled cardboard sign: Will Work for Tennis. In my limited experiences with him, Devin seems like a genuinely nice kid; he's humble and polite, and watchful rather demonstrative on the tennis court. McEnroe, the US Davis Cup captain, shares that view. "Some of these kids, you ask them to go to Spain to work and grind and they'll question you - why do I need to do that? Devin was more like, 'When you want me to go?" We all think he can be a player, and he wants to be one, which is why he' s a great kid to work with. Sending him over there (Spain), that's exactly the kind of thing I feel we ought to be doing."
Devin has had an eventful few months since his break-out Spring, highlighted by the attention he received for drawing Roger Federer in the first-round of the US Open. He also accompanied the US Davis Cup team (sans team leader Andy Roddick) to Croatia, and had his eyes opened wide by the intense-to-insane practice routine of the Bryan brothers. He, along with the other DC practice partner, Ryan Harrison, also experienced the traditional rookie hazing.
At the official teams banquet, the US captain always rises on the podium and announces that, in keeping with the team's tradition, the obligatory speech on behalf of the US team will be made by its newest member. The first time this happened, years ago, it was a surprise (I can only imagine how that rookie guinea pig felt). Now, everyone knows what's coming, but that still doesn't mean it's easy for a typical youth - that is, a kid who's petrified of opening his mouth before his coach or a high school teacher, never mind a banquet hall filled with the players he emulates, dignitaries, and high-ranking ITF and federation officials. Harrison, clever kid that he is, got out of the assignment by offering to sing a song, so we know he's no shrinking violet. He serenaded the guests with the popular Journey hit, Don't Stop Believing.
"It was brutal," Devin told me. "I mean, really,really bad. . . which is what made it good."
The speaking bit was left to Devin, who somehow made it through most of what he thought he had to say, including a few off-color turns of phrase that rookies are obliged to weave into their speech, but in a way that ensures they sail right over the heads of the assembled suits and fuddy-duddies. I'm still trying to work out how Britton managed to fly under the decency radar with "banana hammock." But he got 'er done.
"The (Davis Cup) practice sessions were intense," Devin said. "But that's what these guys are, it seems to be the normal thing at the top level. It's pretty awesome when every ball you hit has a purpose."
Although having to play defending champion Roger Federer in the first-round of the US Open sounds more like a sentence than a plum assignment, it ensured that Britton would play on Arthur Ashe stadium, in a televised match guaranteed generate a lot of buzz in the US. He didn't know what to expect, rushed his ordinarily easy service motion, went for too much on some balls and too little on others, and moved at a slightly delayed speed - all the customary shortcomings you can expect of someone playing his first truly big pro match. "It was an unreal experience," he still says. "The minute the draw was made my cell phone went crazy and it stayed that way until after the match. Yeah, I was nervous. I'm kind of glad it's behind me."
Devin's tourist experience of Gotham began and ended with walking around, mid-town, and eating out at different restaurants (Mexican usually won out). He also played mixed doubles, with countrywoman Mallory Cecil; they lost in the first round to the powerful team of Jill Craybas and Eric Butorac, 10-4 in the Supertiebreaker. After his week in New York, Britton returned home and went on to the USTA Training Center in Boca.
McEnroe's hand moves the pieces on the chessboard, but much of USTA development team's philosophy has been created by the former top 10 pro from Spain who had a reputation as one of the hardest-working players on the tour, Jose Higueras. He may be the best thing that has happened to American tennis since Chris Evert, and it was all through a stroke of luck - Higueras, a very quiet, modest, and methodical man, married an American girl and they settled for good in Palm Springs. He decided he didn't want to travel on anything remotely like a full-time basis, no matter how intriguing or potentially lucrative the coaching assignment.
Higueras's first outstanding protege was Jim Courier, and since then he's been in the thick of the world coaching mix at a variety of levels (he even worked with Federer for a brief period). But he seems to have an affinity, and an admirable loyalty, to the US. Higueras is especially strong on movement and positioning, and he looks for a good work ethic in his proteges. "Jose realized sooner than a lot of other people that to succeed today, you have to do everything right," McEnroe recently told me. "You can't survive if you neglect any part of it, and that includes wise decision-making."
Britton is an "artistic" player with terrific hands and wonderful skills (he's already a pioneer of sorts, in that he seems to have two equal backhands: a one-handed slice and a two-handed drive). He has a big serve, but so do a lot of other guys who, more ominously for Britton, also have big returns. Coping with the high-octane return game of today's pros will be on of the most daunting of challenges for one of the first authentically attack-minded players to emerge from the junior ranks since the likes of Mardy Fish and Feliciano Lopez.
But Britton knows that in this era of ball-punishing groundstrokes, slow courts, and superior fitness, he has a long way to go. "I need to do a lot of work on my legs," he said. "I'm a serve-and-volley player, and I know people say that game won't work anymore. But l don't see myself getting away from that. It's the way I like to play, and I'm pretty confident it will work."
One thing this proclivity has earned Britton is, perhaps, a disproportionate amount of attention of the kind usually reserved for the bearded ladies and three-headed calves found in a freak show. I'm only slightly overstating the case. Britton met the other McEnroe, John, at Wimbledon. After some aimless chat, Devin revealed that he's a serve-and-volley player; as a result, McEnroe made a point to go out to watch him play - and offer his blessing.
I may not even be writing this post were it not for this aspect of Britton's game, although there's a lot more to like about the Britton's game than his style. To me, he has that leisurely, almost effortless manner of a young Pancho Gonzalez or Pete Sampras (no pressure or anything, Dev!), a sense of the court dimensions and ball travel that allows him to play without making a big production out of what he's doing. In some ways, he also strikes me as someone who might mature a bit more slowly than many of his peers; he's slightly awkward, physically and socially, in the way we call "boyish." I just see a lot of potential there, and we'll just see how much room he has to grow, and how well he can handle that process.
You can almost hear Ryan Harrison singing in the background, maybe something by Journey?