Victory Park

I began teaching tennis to pay the bills when I was in law school.

When I finished my military service, my dad called me to ask about my future plans. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, so he suggested I become a lawyer.

Throughout my early life, I always loved warm weather and being outdoors--going to the beach, riding the waves. So I asked if it was okay to enter the University of Miami law school in Coral Gables, Florida. I knew that Dad would be pleased because one of my mom's brothers, Tony DeFillipo, lived in nearby North Miami Beach and could keep an eye on me.

I had a wife, a nine-month-old son and a 1949 Plymouth. And with the cash from having sold my previous car and our personal belongings, we headed to Florida. Dad provided the additional money I needed and we bought the house right next door to my uncle Tony DeFiIlipo for $17,000.

I started law school in the fall of 1956. Although the GI Bill paid for my tuition, I needed to earn some money to take care of my family. Uncle Tony, besides owning the largest gas station and the biggest sanitation company in North Miami Beach, was very well connected politically in the community.

One of his good friends was Frank Sepedi, the director of the city's water department. My uncle knew I had played tennis in college, so he suggested that I offer tennis lessons at the two courts across the street from the city administration building, where the mayor and other politicians spent most of their time.

Victory Park

Back then, it was a broken down facility not much in use. Actually, broken-down is an understatement. The place was a wreck. The courts were best described as hard-grass-dirt: Hard, because they were made of concrete; grass, because lots of greenery was poking through the cracks in the playing surface; and dirt, because there was dirt everywhere. The nets, which were iron mesh to prevent theft, had holes in them. The facility had three amenities-an umbrella, a brick wall and a Pepsi-Cola machine.

Me on the left with Sheryl Smith, 14-and-under National Champion, and on the right my uncle Tony.

Until then, my only experience with tennis had been batting the ball around in high school and playing in college, but I applied for the position of head pro and was awarded the contract at Victory Park in 1957.

My sponsors were the local mafia, who made sure that I received a decent salary and a benefits package. The only reason I got the job, knowing less than zero about teaching the game, was the influence wielded by Uncle Tony and Frank Sepedi. I would get up early, drive to law school for my classes, come home at 2:30 in the afternoon and teach tennis until 8 or 9 at night.

The law professors expected the students to dress properly--at least slacks and a collared shirt. I was going from school directly to the tennis courts and had other ideas. I had moved to Florida to wear shorts and a t-shirt, and so that is what I did. After a semester of listening to their constant complaints about my attire, I told the professors where they could put their books and quit law school for good.

By then, I had decided to make a go of it as a tennis instructor. I sent my first wife Phyllis to spy on other programs in the Miami area and report back to me what the instructors there were doing. When I went out to visit some of them myself, I was amazed at how easy it was to earn money teaching this sport.

Most of the coaches used what seemed to me mindless, robotic techniques with their beginner students: Ready position, racquet back early, step to the ball, hit the ball, catch the racquet with your non-hitting hand and back to the ready position."

I figured if they could do this and make $3.00 an hour, why couldn't I? You didn't need to be a good player, because perception is everything. If you look the part and speak with authority, students can't tell the difference between a novice and a world-class instructor.

Even if it might seem I was on a downward spiral from my earlier dreams of becoming a fighter pilot and my brief stints as a paratrooper and law school student, I was going to make the most of it.

Fred Perry liked my Buick.

Influences?

When I heard that Fred Perry lived in the area, I decided to pay him a visit. He was a tennis legend who won eight Grand Slam titles in the 1930s, including three consecutive Wimbledon championships-- the last British player to win that tournament until Andy Murray did it again in 2013.

I drove up in my Buick convertible to the Diplomat Hotel in Hollywood, Florida, where he was director of tennis, and introduced myself. He approved of my taste in cars, and we met several times after that socially, although we never talked about tennis. Fred Perry was a very flamboyant man and he always smiled when I arrived. His favorite piece of advice to me was, "Make sure you always have a good-looking woman with you."

I decided to use the experience at Victory Park to hone my teaching skills. I discovered that I had the innate ability and the compassion to genuinely help my students improve their tennis.

Fred Perry, the pro at the Diplomat Hotel, gave me advice to be seen with beautiful women.

For a while, I learned a lot from watching the best tennis coach in the area, Slim Harbett. Gar Malloy thought he was the greatest coach of all time. (Click Here to read Gar's story about Slim's influence.)

Slim's grips, backswing, follow-through and other components were pretty uncomplicated, so I mimicked his techniques and language. But began to add my own concepts and found that I was creating my own style. I began to evaluate technique and strategy and provide meaningful recommendations for improvement.

Frank Sepedi and my uncle noticed the increase in activity at the tennis courts. When I mentioned that the facility needed to be upgraded to accommodate the growing numbers, Uncle Tony said, "Don't worry about it, we'll take care of it."

They hosted a picnic at Victory Park to impress the town administrators and offered free food and drink to whomever wanted to come. Believe me, the place was packed. As things got going, Uncle Tony and Frank came up to me and said, "Nick, when everything settles down, take the microphone and this is what you say, 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is a big day in North Miami Beach. Mayor Diefenbach wants to announce the resurfacing of the two existing courts, construction of four additional courts, the installation of lighting, and a new pro shop'

I did as they told me, and the mayor was taken completely by surprise. When they joined him on the podium with a shovel, he shot them a look that would have turned lesser men to stone. A brief, quiet discussion ensued, and then the mayor announced that ground was being broken for the upgrading of the facility. He stuck the shovel in the dirt as a symbolic gesture to save face. I now had a six-court facility and my local reputation was spreading.

I spent a lot of time and energy building up the programs at Victory Park. But like many hard-working young men, I also partied hard. Most evenings and weekends I hung out with my cousin Ken DeFillipo, who lived at my uncle's next door, and his friends.

Slim Harbett was the pro who most influenced my early teaching.

Trouble

To give you an idea of the kind of trouble we got into, one night in a lounge, we happened to see two guys and an attractive woman. The next night, we saw them again. As they walked past, I glanced at her appreciatively, and one of the guys said, "What are you looking at?"

One word led to another and we got into a fight, but it didn't last long. Kenny was 6' 4", played football for the University of Miami, had a brown belt in karate and took care of things. That's how things went: I'd start the arguments and he would finish them.

Later that evening when we returned to our hotel, as we entered the lobby, one of the guys came down the stairs. He pulled out a gun and said he would kill us both. While the night manager called the cops, Kenny walked up to the guy, said "You don't have the balls," and broke his nose.

When the cops came, Kenny gave them Frank Sepedi's number to call. They did, wished us "good night," and we went on our way unscathed.

I was having a good time, but in the process, I was neglecting my family. Phyllis was a kind soul, but she had taken about all she could handle from me, staying out to all hours.

One night when I came home at 2 a.m., I found my packed bags sitting on the front porch with a note from Phyllis that read, “Nicky, I love you, but I can't take this life any longer. I'll miss you!" And that was the end of my first marriage.

Phyllis wanted to make sure I stayed in touch with my son as much as possible, and Jimmy Boy spent the summers with me when I ran tennis camps. In the meantime, Phyllis kept the house and I moved into an apartment at the Sun City Motel on Collins Avenue by the beach, sharing two bedrooms with five other guys. I resumed my life as a hard-working, hard-playing bachelor.

Brian Gottfried was my first famous student.

By 1960, tennis in the city of North Miami Beach began getting recognition. I was starting to develop some darn good players who were making waves on the national tennis scene. Sheryl Smith, one ·of my first four students, was the 14-and-under National Champion.

The best player to come out of Victory Park was Brian Gottfried. He arrived at age 11 or so with huge ears and an even bigger champion's heart. In 1962, he won the national 12-andundersingles title.

With only about five years separating them, he and Jimmy Boy became close friends, almost like brothers. Brian was an extremely talented young man with determination, focus and a world-class volley. (And they say I can't teach the volley.) He had an outstanding professional career, winning 25 singles titles, 54 doubles titles, reaching No.3 in the world and was the runner-up at the 1977 French Open.

Ohio!

With the success of some of my young players, I began to gain some name recognition for myself in other parts of the country, too. In Springfield, Ohio, Dr. Howard Dredge, a dentist with a thriving practice and considerable influence in the community, was nuts about tennis and loved children. He wanted to help the kids in the city and directed a tennis program at two of Springfield's tennis centers, Snyder and Reid Parks, free of charge.

Free clinic day in Springfield, Ohio.

Somehow he heard about me and arranged for me to be interviewed to become tennis director for those parks from mid-April through September. I was delighted to get the job, because it was much too hot in Miami in the summer to spend any time on the tennis courts.

Every Wednesday and Saturday during the summer, 1,500 children would use public transportation and make their way to Snyder Park. We made special arrangements with the bus company to provide them with 25¢ fares.

The best young players in the community helped me give lessons to these kids. I did not stay there in the winter, but went back to Florida. I became the tennis director at the Sahara Beach Hotel in Miami Beach. There were two Har-Tru courts. The problem was that these courts had very little Har-Tru left on them. The hotel wasn't ready to spend the money, and I didn't have any extra after alimony and child support.

Enter my cousin Kenny, who was already following in my uncle's footsteps, solving problems in a "creative" manner. He borrowed a pickup truck and late one night we cruised by another resort, the Hollywood Beach Hotel in the adjoining town. There were a number of 100 pound bags of Har-Tur lying by the sidewalk next to the tennis center. Somehow, as if by magic--don't ask me how--a few of them ended up in the bed of our truck, and the next day I had brand new courts at the Sahara. Kenny, by the way, went on to become vice mayor of North Miami Beach.

Harold Solomon: one lesson, no grip changes.

I can't take credit for coaching Harold Solomon to success, but I did give him one lesson at the Sahara Beach Hotel. One day, his father, Lenny, brought his young son "Solly" to meet me and get a lesson. When we started, I noticed that Harold had his hand more under the racquet in a strong, semi-western grip. Although common today, it was odd at the time, but I didn't change it at all, and it worked very well for him.

That first and only lesson paid unexpected dividends. Lenny Solomon was a kind man who loved tennis. Years later, his daughter Shelly attended NBTA in Florida. At the time, we didn't have a lot of extra room and needed a library, so Lenny had one built for us. Today, it houses the executive office and my Hall of Fame room at IMG Academy.

Meanwhile, several notable juniors emerged from Springfield, including Ginger Pfeiffer, who was ranked No.2 in the Western Tennis Association Girls' 14 Division. The following year, she won the singles title of the American Tennis Association, the Afro-American version of the USTA in those years of segregation. A previous title holder was the great Althea Gibson, the first African-American tennis player to win Wimbledon and the French Open.

When Jimmy Boy first started spending his summers with me, he was only eight years old. He would climb on the seat in the red and silver public phone booth by the pro shop and we'd call his mom every day. In those days, calls still went through switchboards and telephone operators would make the connection by hand.

Saying Yes Twice

On one occasion, the operator, Nancy, started a conversation with me. She said that she often made the connection for us and knew I was the local tennis director. I thanked her for being so kind to my son and mentioned that we might meet one day and share a drink. She said that would be a good idea. We got together sooner rather than later and found that we enjoyed each other's company . You can see where this is headed.

The next winter, Nancy visited Miami on vacation. Nancy was a kind and generous person. She played tennis every day and we got along very well with one another. By the end of her stay, we decided to get married when I returned to Springfield in April. In the meantime, she went back there ahead of me, to make all the necessary arrangements for our wedding.

A few weeks later, another attractive young lady from up north stopped in to play some tennis at the Sahara Beach Hotel. Her name was Shirley Phillips and we got along just fine. We danced the night away and I told her all about my seasonal travel.

She invited me to visit her in Franklin, a small town just south of Indianapolis, on my way to Springfield, and I did. We had a good time and she said she'd love to marry me. I said, "Okay," and told her that I'd return in a week and we'd work out the details then.

But when I got to Springfield, Nancy had all the wedding arrangements ready. So I married her the weekend I was scheduled to return to Franklin. Having stood Shirley up, I was afraid to travel to Indianapolis for years after.