Andres Alvarez was “spot specific” on his volley.
He would serve and volley the return invariably deep
to one corner or the other—almost within a foot
every time. Then, the odds were in his favor. This is an
area in which American players and teachers could
get better. For example, we are “spot specific” on
passing shots, but on volleys many of our kids just
sort of “bang it over on the other side.”

Michael Leonard coachedElon’s men’s tennis team (2007) to its first Southern Conference tournament championship for any sport.The team finished 23–2 and played in the NCAA playoffs.
Michael gives me a lot of credit for his playing success. More than
I deserve. He gushes about how much I helped him, but I really only
taught him two major things: Hit it up enough on your serve and learn a
one-handed underspin ball. “Yeah coach,” says new coach Michael, “but
you don’t know how much those two changes helped. I was strictly
two-handed, but now my slice is my bread and butter.”

Dominic Moerstedt played on my first Elon team. A fine player,
Moerstedt had grown up in a German academy that had also housed Boris
Becker and Steffi Graff. Extremely talented, Moerstedt liked to try “big
bombs” for passing shots, hit from way back at the fence. I told him about an earlier player, passing on the rise, moving in on service returns, etc. Still
“boom—from way back.” The first match my team played without me there
(25 years’ perfect attendance!) came Dominic’s senior year. My wife had
to have a surgical procedure (kidney stones—ouch!), and I sent Dr. Alan White as an able substitute coach. He still brags about his tennis coach-ing. We both were lucky. After the first day of the tournament, my number one player jumped into an indoor pickup soccer game in our gym. Pop!
Leg injury. No number one for the finals. I returned to a hobbled team plus
another problem. Dominic was playing Alex Evans, an excellent Australian
player from my old school Atlantic Christian. Evans “owned” Moerstedt.
In several previous matches Moerstedt had never gotten more than two
games a set off the talented serve and volleyer Evans. This match was for
the tournament. My advice to Dominic went like this: “Dominic, we’ve tried
it your way to no avail. Please at least move in aggressively on your service
return and passing shots.”
We had practiced this a lot recently, in all fairness, and Dominic had the
kind of talent to pull it off. It shocked everyone—Evans, Moerstedt, our
team members and me: 6–2, 6–2, Moerstedt, and Elon was Conference
Champs.What really surprised me is why the strategy worked. By hitting the pass-
ing shots quicker I’d hoped that Dominic could make Evans volley from an unstable, unusual position. What actually happened is that Alex tried to
get in quicker and it disrupted his ordinarily dependable serve. Confused
by a different rhythm, he lost a lot of confidence.

“Moon” Phillips taught me a lot, about this time. They called Danny
“Moon” because his big round head looked like Charlie Browns’s (Peanuts).
It also sat on a frame of about 100-plus pounds. But Danny had some
trump cards. Great touch, hands, and volley, and he could hit it anyway it
came at him. A fine doubles player having grown up in Goldsboro, North
Carolina, he taught me several things: The backhand underspin volley,
return, and approach are true keys in college tennis. Danny, from the
backhand court, would slice a little cross-court return that the receiver had
to hit up. “Slam dunk” on our next shot. And he convinced me of another
great use of this in singles. Maybe Tim Wilkison, North Carolina’s finest
player, solidified the term “chip and charge” in tennis. I watched with pride at the U.S. Open when Tim won three straight five setters with that attach-
ing off the second serve and turning it into an approach shot. Danny showed me the “chip and rip” in Kansas City. He played an undefeated (number three in the country), serve and volley specialist. I’d heard a lot about this boy, but Danny’s tactic made breaking serve easy. He’d slyly move in, chip it at the “T” and as his opponent could only touch up this “super soft” return, Danny would then rip a big passing shot by the
defenseless volleyer. Chip, bang, lob, angles. Set him up with number one,
pass him with number two, works in singles and doubles. Chip and rip.
I began to encourage my net players to take any middle ball on the
backhand volley or service return. Ask John McEnroe. He could “touch that
chip on a dime.”

I watched players early on in the Nationals, picking up bits and pieces
from all over the country. In the years prior to the “foreign invasion” the
NAIA featured almost state vs. state contests with the warm weather states
having the advantage. California was ahead in talent, but Texas and Florida
came to play.
I loved watching the doubles matches. Southeastern Oklahoma’s coach,
Clarence Dyer, and his players were a great model. I’d watch Kim Kettleson
come in behind his serve and never miss that first volley, no matter how
hard or low the return was.
Up to this point our team members (save “Moon”) would just sort of
“wave” at those returns as they roared past for winners.
We went back to the practice rack on this shot. We made it a point of
pride to learn how to dig that return out of the hole.

Danny Colangelo was Elon’s only four-time first-team All-American in
any sport. He was talented, tough, and durable.
I learned from Danny how valuable the net player was in doubles. No
matter who I played Danny with, he’d play so well at the net that his
partner, if he didn’t double fault three or four times, would hold serve.
Danny could learn too. I convinced him at his level he needed to add
an underspin forehand return. Danny was going to play people who serve
so well he wouldn’t have time for a giant backswing. He mastered it
immediately and used it to great advantage.
What I learned was part two of the “learning.” Danny realized that if he
hadn’t had that return, others didn’t either. He began to hit his quality
serves at talented opponent’s forehands.

 

Danny told me he saved that shot for a “back-up” point on the tour and
was always surprised how many good players couldn’t hit it, mostly due to
overswinging.

Another source of information was hosting semi-pro or “money
tournaments.” BB&T (Branch Banking and Trust) hosted a fine tournament
with people like Freddie McNair and other great college players of the
mid-70s. The most impressive, though, was an older Texan, Jimmy Parker.
What a nice guy and great player. Jimmy could stand on the service line
and return serve. He also ran a below 10-second 100 yards. Blink and he
was at the net. We also hired Tim Wilkison and Charlie Owens for our local
exhibitions. If you couldn’t learn from those guys, don’t take calculus.
I learned a shot from Tim’s brother, Andy, who played for North Carolina
State. Andy, troubled with a bad knee, was a fine player himself.
Watching him return serve caused me to define his return as “Z” shaped.
I never told Andy, but his quick move to the left and in, accompanied by
moving his weight in toward the target, became the model for our
doubles return.
Charlie Owens perfected a “just high enough” forehand lob down the
line to force the net player to hit a lukewarm backhand overhead to his
only logical cross-court target. Charlie would be there waiting for it with a
“passer.”

Another shot from our opponents is etched in my memory. However
my memory fails on his first name. A Carson Newman College player, last
name of Yentilmez, had a “flop” shot that he’d perfected. No matter how
you approached, he’d spin a “semi-topspin lob” cross court at a pace that
left you just short of comfortable. We added the “Yentilmez flop.” Many got
out of deep trouble with the “flop.” Takes some practice!

One segment in our handbook challenged our team with this statement:
“Drills: Coach hitting balls to you? (“That’s what ‘gulls’ like.” Imre Kwast of
Holland).
If the coach teaches you something that’s valuable but you don’t “like it,”
is that the coach’s fault?  If the coach teaches you something valuable but you won’t practice it, is that the coach’s fault?
If the coach lets you do something “comfortable,” is that good coaching
or a waste of practice time?
If the coach shows you something that will work but you can’t do it, is
that the coach’s fault?
The best girls’ teams in our league do the tough things in a match. We
can learn these tough things or lose in the spring. We may lose even if we
try hard, but isn’t that what it’s about?