Forty years ago in 1970 was a signature year for Cliff Richey. The American tennis great, who with sister Nancy Richey make up the greatest brother-sister combination inU.S. tennis history, was a semifinalist at the French and U.S. Opens, finished as the top-ranked player in the nascent year-end “points standings” and was the most valuable player in the U.S. Davis Cup team’s triumph over Germany in the Davis Cup Final.
In his new book ACING DEPRESSION: A TENNIS CHAMPION’S TOUGHEST MATCH ($19.95, New Chapter Press, www.CliffRicheyBook.com), Richey discusses the 1970 Davis Cup final and his signature year. In ACING DEPRESSION, Richey calls depression among adult males as “the silent tragedy in our culture today” and details his life-long battle with the disease that afflicts approximately 121 million people around the world. Co-written with his oldest daughter, Hilaire Richey Kallendorf, ACING DEPRESSION is a first-hand account of the life and tennis career of Richey, providing readers with his real-life drama – on and off the tennis court. Richey’s depression is a constant theme, from his genetics and family history, to the tensions of his professional tennis career and family life, to his eventual diagnosis and steps to recover from his condition.
The book excerpt is found below:
The 1970 year was my signature year—my best season. All that year I was up, up, up. Winning, winning, winning. I played 112 matches that year and won 93 of them. I lost only 19 times that year, not counting Davis Cup or exhibition matches. I won the first World Point Title (the Pepsi Cola Grand Prix) and was ranked No. 1 in the United States. I won the U.S. National Clay Court title and reached the semifinals of the U.S. Open and the French Open. I also led the United States to a repeat victory in the Davis Cup—while being named Davis Cup MVP to boot.
When I was named the Davis Cup’s Most Valuable Player, it was a surprise. I don’t know who decided it. I think it was the sports writers. I was as surprised as anyone. They gave me a trophy. I didn’t even know there was an MVP award. Those kinds of awards never meant a whole lot to me, really, because I knew they were all so political. I don’t like hoping someone likes you well enough to give you something. I’d rather earn it.
The press knew there had been some controversy over whether I would even be named to play that year. They had held a reception in Shaker Square (in Shaker Heights, a fancy neighborhood in Cleveland) for the purpose of announcing the Davis Cup draw for the final against West Germany. We all knew Stan Smith and Bob Lutz would play the doubles. As far as the singles players, it would be Arthur Ashe for sure but in the other singles slot, it was going to be Stan Smith or me. I would have walked out if they had named Smith to play. The previous year Donald Dell, the non-playing captain, had picked Stan over me because he was Stan’s agent, not mine. But this time, it was my name that was drawn out of the Davis Cup trophy during the draw. Fred Stolle, the great Australian player and the coach for the German team, told the press I would be easy to beat. He predicted I would choke. He thought I wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure of representing my country for the world team championship. As it turned out, I won both of my singles matches and we beat the Germans 5-0. So that might have helped me win MVP: I didn’t choke as expected! I think I may have gotten a few sympathy votes.
It was kind of ironic that I won the first Grand Prix point title after objecting to the very idea of the whole thing. What used to be the Grand Prix is now the ATP Champions’ Race that players like Pete Sampras and Roger Federer won many times. I won the first Grand Prix ever. Originally it was sponsored by Pepsi Cola, although other companies joined in on subsequent years including Nabisco and IBM. It started as a way to attract more world interest to the game. The contest began in May at the French Open and all the tournaments were worth points. That year, I “chased” points, so to speak. I played a lot of tennis that year. These days they have computers to tabulate wins and losses, but back in 1970, we just had someone sitting in a central office, keeping track. I remember being in Stockholm at the last point tournament of the year. I knew I was close to winning the title. I called over to London to the headquarters of the International Lawn Tennis Federation to find out how many points I had. “Where do I stand?” I asked. I was told that if I won one match in Stockholm, I would tie for the Grand Prix point title with Arthur Ashe, even if he won the tournament. I would be sitting pretty. If I won two matches, I would win the Grand Prix title outright.
I had lousy luck with the draw. I’m not saying they rigged it, but normally the best players are seeded so they’re protected from each other until the end. In the first round, I played Andrés Gimeno from Spain, who had reached the semis of Wimbledon. He should have been seeded, but he wasn’t. People fight over the draws in tennis.
There are rumors of cockamamy excuses for why draws need to be redone. I was not a popular player. I really had to question why they had me playing Andrés in the first round. I beat him 21-19, 6-1. I clinched the point title outright in the second round when I beat Zeljko Franulovic of Yugoslavia 6-1, 8-10, 6-3. They had a point board posted at the tournament. There’s a picture of me using my racquet to show the total number of points on the board. The point race was over before the tournament was even finished. The reason I didn’t like the idea of the Grand Prix in the first place, as I told Jack Kramer at the time, was that the players would get exhausted. And then I ended up winning the darn thing! But I had predicted correctly. The week after Stockholm, we flew to Tokyo for the Masters’ Championship. I was so tired when we got there, I was sleeping 17 hours a night. I went to see a doctor in Tokyo who thought I might have hepatitis. He said I should not play the tournament.
I went to the auditorium and hunted down Jack Kramer. I wanted to tell him personally why I couldn’t play. He thought because it was an indoor, fast surface inTokyo, I was backing out because I thought I might lose. I had always been known as more of a clay court player, but I had just won on two super fast surfaces! A few weeks prior to that, I had beaten Ken Rosewall in London on a lightning-fast court, right after he won the U.S. Open. The next week in Stockholm on another fast surface, linoleum, I also beat Gimeno; so the idea that I might be scared of fast surfaces was a joke. I was just run-down and fatigued. In the end, as it turns out, I was right. I had just played 30 tournaments, spread out to the four corners of the globe. In the run-up to the Grand Prix, they played us to death.
The other funny thing that happened when I won the World Point Title was that I won $25,000 in bonus money, but no trophy. I always played for the trophy, not the money. The trophy was something more tangible. I said to Jack Kramer, “Why didn’t you guys give me a trophy?” The ILTF took my complaint to heart.
They actually presented me with a trophy a year later! I had to shame them into it. I wanted the damn trophy! They rustled one up a year later at the Masters in Paris. The inscription reads: “Pepsi Grand Prix 1970, Cliff Richey.” To this day, it is one of only two trophies I keep on display in our home.
Sometimes when I’m feeling blue, I’ll write down my five greatest tennis accomplishments:
1. World Point Title (Grand Prix)
2. Two-time Davis Cup Champion and MVP
3. U.S. No. 1 Ranking
4. 45 tournament wins
5. Legends Senior Tour Champion
Strangely, even when I write it down, it doesn’t sink in. But at least three out of those five successes occurred in the same year, 1970. The No. 1 ranking was the last to fall into place, after that “Sudden Death” match against Stan Smith. At that point, emotionally, I could be described as somewhat crazed. Arthur Ashe said he worried about me because he thought I would burn out too quickly. Those words of his turned out to be prophetic.