While watching the highest level of professional tennis at the French Open, choking has been seen in many matches and likely more matches down the road. Players will be in a position to win a big match or beat a high-ranked player – or in some cases lesser players – and they will not be able to execute and close out the match. It makes for excellent drama.
Forty years ago, top American player Cliff Richey experienced the biggest disappointment of his career. Remember the buzz that the French Open had as an American man was not able to win the title since Tony Trabert in 1955? The U.S. futility streak was finally broken by Michael Chang in 1989 after a 34-year drought. Richey had a good chance of joining the elite list of American men to win at Roland Garros in 1970, where he would have become only the sixth American to win in the clay of Paris. (Only eight U.S. men have won at Roland Garros, Andre Agassi in 1999 http://www.worldtennismagazine.com/wp-admin/post-new.phpbeing the last.) In the semifinals against Zeljko Franulovic, he was one swing of the racquet away from reaching the French final, where he would have played Jan Kodes, a player who later admitted that he had no chance of winning against Richey. Despite being up two-sets-to-one, 5-1 in the fourth set and having two match points, Richey was defeated 6-4, 4-6, 1-6, 7-5, 7-5.
In his new book ACING DEPRESSION: A TENNIS CHAMPION’S TOUGHEST MATCH ($19.95, New Chapter Press, www.CliffRicheyBook.com), Richey discusses choking – in the context of tennis as well as in his life living with depression – as well as the happenings from Roland Garros from 40 years ago. Co-written with his oldest daughter Hilaire Richey Kallendorf, ACING DEPRESSION is an inspiring first-hand account of the life and tennis career of Richey, providing readers with his real-life drama – on and off the tennis court. An excerpt from the chapter of the book called “Starting to Choke” is featured below.
Choke” is the word we use to describe what happens when a player is not performing well at a crucial moment in competition. We all have choked on some matches. There are certain areas of a match where a player is more likely to choke, like when he is serving for the match. When I started getting into the choke area of a match, I started getting defensive with my shots. By contrast, when Arthur Ashe choked, he got too aggressive. So everyone chokes in his own different way.
There’s a battle going on out there between two minds. I could sense when someone was starting to break down mentally. In the crunch time, it’s easy to get nervous and choke from wanting to win it too badly. One of the most difficult areas of a match mentally is right at the time you feel like you’ve got it done. You need to close the deal. That’s the clincher. Seal it in the envelope and put it in the mail.
I had a way of playing that wasn’t the easiest when it came time to close out a match. It’s easier to win at big moments with weapons like a huge serve. I didn’t have a serve powerful enough to knock anybody off the court, so I had to find alternative ways to win. I never worried if other players thought I had a tendency to choke in a tough spot. Fred Stolle predicted I would choke in 1970 when I led the American team to victory in Davis Cup. But I didn’t. Nor did I choke in the famous “Sudden Death” match that decided the No. 1 U.S. ranking that year against Stan Smith. So in the choking area, I disproved my critics at least as many times as I proved them right.
The first time I remember starting to choke in a big match was the summer of 1962. I was 15 years old and playing in the USTA National Boys’ 16s Championships. I grabbed Dad and said, “Hey, I need to talk to you.” We went into the dorm room alone. I told him that I was feeling apprehensive. He grinned and said, “You’re feeling pressure. You’re blanking out on us here.” By following his advice on how to cope with the pressure, I was able to go out and win the tournament.
The same thing happened when I won the U.S. Clay Court Championships in Indianapolis in 1970. I was playing against Stan Smith in the final with Dad there watching the match. He was glaring at me from the stands. I won the first two sets 6-2, 10-8, but lost the third set 6-3. Back in those days, we always took a break after the third set of a five-set match. During the break, Dad came into the locker room and started reading me the riot act on how I should go out and play. I had to win one more set somehow. He basically just grabbed me by the shoulders and told me I had gotten too cautious. I went out and won 6-1 in the fourth.
At the time, his words sounded harsh, but he wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings. He was just being brutally honest. He was right on the money. That’s why coaches are so valuable. I didn’t realize that I had gotten too cautious and was trying to just wish victory instead of making it happen.
Those are some examples of times when I felt myself starting to choke. However, the all-time tough one was when I lost to Zeljko Franulovic in the semifinals of the French Open in 1970. Mom and Dad flew over to Paris to watch me play. On the court that day, I would be the first one in the world to say that I choked. It was a choke job. I got more nervous than I should have. At one point in the match, I questioned a line call. I still think I was right, but I shouldn’t have done it. It turned the crowd against me. French crowds are very excitable. I had three different match points. During the last one in particular, I really choked as I hit the ball off the wood frame. Zeljko was so far away, he was over there in East Paris someplace and all I had to do was hit it into the open court.
But I choked. I got upset when the crowd turned on me. I lost 7-5 in the fifth. I had that match on my racquet and in my hand. All I had to do was stick it in my pocket! It was my tournament to win or lose and I handed it back. . . . I would have played a guy in the final, Jan Kodes, to whom I had literally never lost. Kodes and I had breakfast together four years later at the CBS Tennis Classic and he told me, “Cliff, you know I could not have beaten you.” The French Open was mine to lose.
After that match, I was as mad and upset as I’ve ever been for losing a tennis match. I was beside myself. I always carried a tournament bag. I remember taking the tournament duffle bag that I always carried with me and heaving it across the player lounge. I was devastated. I just wigged out. If someone asked me, “Were you momentarily insane?” I would have to say, yeah, I was goofy nuts.
I mentally and emotionally snapped. It wasn’t like I snapped out on the court. I never lost my temper once while I was on the court that day. But afterward, in the player lounge, I took my racquet and started beating it against the backs of chairs. I was really scaring Mom. She kept saying, “Cliff, just calm down!”
In all ways, that’s the worst loss I ever had. To this day, it bothers me. That’s the loss that affected me the most—the one that really got to me. The next day, Nancy and Mickie wanted to do some sightseeing in Paris. I guess I decided to go with them because I didn’t want to be alone at the hotel. I was still too upset. It was an awful day.
