The Final Chapter
Doreen Gonzales
In 1978, Richard Gonzalez published another tennis book. This one was called Tennis Begins At Forty. In this book, Gonzalez gave tips for a different kind of tennis from what he had played most of his life.
He described how adults new to the game or adults over the age of forty could play good tennis and have fun. Now Gonzalez had assumed a new role, the role of the aging expert and people looked to him for advice about their own tennis games. Gonzalez himself claimed to enjoy the sport more now than in the days when he was constantly competing.
He also wrote articles for tennis magazines. Some articles gave advice. Others expressed his views on the sport. In one he gave tips for longevity in tennis.
"An athlete should learn how to rest more while he's competing," Gonzalez advised. "Players don't realize that the body needs rest."
"Invariably, they'll lie down after practice for 10 or 15 minutes and then wake up and find a couple of hours have gone by. Your body is talking to you. The same thing is true before and after a match. Proper rest is crucial to good preparation."
Gonzalez had become more health conscious in other ways, too. In the early 1980s he quit smoking. He also developed a taste for the sport he had once described as dull - golf. He believed tennis and golf were a good combination for keeping his body in top shape.
Gonzalez also believed in keeping his mind sharp. He still loved racing and working on his cars. Solving their mechanical problems and making them faster was a mental challenge he enjoyed. In addition, he read every day.
Over the years, Gonzalez had come to understand why Perry Jones, the dictator of Southern California tennis, had so been adamant about his staying in school. He wished he had listened to Jones and all the others who had urged him to complete his education.
Gonzalez encouraged the youth he worked with to complete theirs. He also encouraged them to read daily, just as he did. He believed in keeping the mind in as good of shape as the body.
Keeping his personal life in top shape was more difficult. Gonzalez was now divorced from Betty Steward and married to a woman named Cheryl Duff.
The New Bad Guys
At about this time, another change was taking place in tennis. It was led by men such as John McEnroe, Jimmy Connors, and Ilie Nastase.
These new champions displayed court manners worse than anyone had ever seen before. McEnroe was dubbed "Superbrat," Connors was called vulgar, and Nastase racked up fine after fine for unsportsmanlike behavior.
Gonzalez, who was once famous for his rants at officials, was asked about the behavior of tennis's newest stars. "I think it's terrible," he said, "but I'm the wrong one to say so."
Yet Gonzalez felt there was a difference between his own court antics and the latest lapses in etiquette. He explained, "I got angry myself, but it was to make me play better. If I cursed a line call, I did it quietly, for no one else to hear."
"This other stuff--the gestures, the four-letter words--it shows a lack of maturity. It reflects on the stupidity of the individual who, I guess, has no respect for his fellow man."
Sometimes Gonzalez played tennis with his oldest son Richard Jr. They entered father-and-son doubles tournaments and won a few national titles.
Gonzalez also kept active in Davis Cup happenings. This competition continued to be special to him since it was played for the country's honor, not just the honor of the individuals involved.
As Gonzalez pointed out, at the end of a winning match the umpire does not say, "Game, Gonzalez." He says, "Game, United States."
Gonzalez attended Davis Cup competitions when he could. In 1981, he watched his old friend Arthur Ashe captain a U.S. team. During a break, Gonzalez advised Ashe to be more involved in what was happening on the court.
Ashe protested to his former mentor, saying that he was involved. Sometimes, he told Gonzalez, he was so worried about the play that his heart was pounding. Gonzalez replied, "Well, we don't want your heart to thump too much, Arthur. But you have to look more involved, I guess."
Being involved was something Gonzalez had done all of his life. Now he expressed unhappiness with the way Davis Cup play had become a moneymaking event. Gonzalez felt this was ruining its value.
Another aspect of Davis Cup play bothered Gonzalez. Because of the recent poor behavior of tennis players, the United States Tennis Association had written a code of conduct for Davis Cup team members. Any person who wanted to play on the team had to agree to follow its guidelines.
Some of the best players did not like this new requirement. John McEnroe refused to sign the statement although he said he would abide by the code. And even though Gonzalez did not like McEnroe's behavior on the court, he supported his decision.
Gonzalez saw the USTA requirement of signing an oath as hypocritical and unrealistic. To him, the members were setting standards that they themselves could not live by.
He said, "I wouldn't even give it a second thought. Under those terms, I would not play Davis Cup. I don't think anyone should dictate conditions on what I'm doing as a player."
By 1984, Gonzalez had divorced Cheryl Duff and married Rita Agassi, sister of tennis star Andre Agassi. Rita was his fifth wife and a talented player herself. They often played tennis together.
In 1985, Rita and Gonzalez became the parents of Gonzalez's eighth child, his son Skylar. When Gonzalez's contract with Caesar's Palace expired in 1986, he began holding tennis clinics in the Bahamas, Hawaii, Palm Springs, and other resort locations.
Rita and Skylar often traveled with him. For the first time in his life, Gonzalez was able to spend long periods of time with one of his children. He liked this new role and was more patient with Skylar than he had been with his other children. Consequently, he and Skylar became very close. Gonzalez's marital relationship was more difficult. In 1989, he and Rita were divorced.
Gonzalez continued to play tennis. Occasionally he appeared in a senior tournament, and as before, he drew a large crowd. But now people did not come to see Gonzalez's brilliant shots or his relent less grit. They came to see the legendary player who had defeated so many tennis greats.
In the fall of 1994, Gonzalez learned that he had cancer of the esophagus. The cancer began spreading in the spring of 1995. By summer it was out of control and Gonzalez was in terrible pain.
He was hospitalized just as Wimbledon began. Yet Gonzalez was not about to miss the world's most important tennis tournament. He watched the matches on television, playing each game in his mind as if he were there.
Gonzalez paid particular attention to Andre Agassi's matches. Gonzalez had once said that Agassi was a better player than he had ever been. But now as he watched Agassi, he was not so sure.
In addition to his powerhouse serve, Gonzalez knew that he had once had remarkable speed and an outstanding variety of shots. Gonzalez began thinking that he may have beaten Agassi had they met when he was in top condition.
In fact, Gonzalez said, "The more I watch today's players, the more I think they're not that great. They're good, but not as good as I was."
Richard Gonzalez died at the age of sixty-seven on Monday, July 3, 1995, in the second week of Wimbledon. Two hundred people attended his funeral. Many came to say good-bye to the man who had been their brother, father, or grandfather.
Others came to honor a colleague and friend. Among these were Charlie Pasarell, Dennis Ralston, and Rod Laver. "You knew you were in for a battle every time you played him," Laver recalled.
Laver was not the only one who would remember Gonzalez's superb tennis skills. In 1999, Sports Illustrated magazine selected Gonzalez as one of the top twenty favorite athletes of the 20th century. In 2005, Tennis Magazine chose him as the greatest server of all time.
Many fans and experts believe that Gonzalez would have won Wimbledon eight or nine times if it had been open to professionals before 1968. In fact, Gonzalez is often referred to as the greatest tennis player to have never won Wimbledon.
Like the fans of other sports, tennis lovers enjoy comparing great players from various eras. For example, they might wonder who was a better player at his peak--Jack Kramer or John McEnroe.
Two years before Gonzalez's death, Tennis Week magazine had published an article about this kind of a contest. In the magazine's fantasy tournament among the thirty-two greatest male players in history, Gonzalez beat Don Budge for the title.
When the experts compile their lists of the best players from history, many place Richard Gonzalez at the top. Jimmy Connors once said that if he had to choose someone to play for his life, he would choose Gonzalez.
Gonzalez's athletic skills were awesome and his knowledge of the game precise. But these attributes were only a part of his winning formula.
Bobby Riggs believed Gonzalez's greatness was due to something more than magnificent skills. Riggs once said, "I think of Gonzalez as the prime example of a man with the burning desire that produces victories."
"Gonzalez at his best had a tremendous serve, true, but he never had the best mechanical game."
"He was not a penetrating volleyer, he didn't punch the ball with the power the way Frank Sedgman or Tony Trabert did, or Ken Rosewall off his backhand. Any number of players hit the ball harder than Gonzalez did off the volley ."
"But no one ever burned with a greater desire to win, and that is what kept Gonzalez in the top ranks of players for a quarter century."
Gonzalez's brother, Ralph, agreed. He knew how much his brother hated to lose, saying, "He wanted to play better than anyone else ever did." Richard Gonzalez may just have succeeded in reaching that goal.
But Richard Gonzalez's greatness went beyond the tennis court. He was the son of Mexican immigrants, a child from a working class home, and the victim of hurtful discrimination. Yet he overcame these obstacles to make a permanent place for himself in tennis history.
Gonzalez's success is proof of what someone with determination and talent can do. As for Richard himself, he never saw himself as a role model. He simply became the best tennis player he could be. And in so doing, he became a testament to perseverance and hardwork, and a symbol of hope to anyone with a dream.
