As Wimbledon entered the round of 16 this week under the newly-domed Centre Court, it triggered a number of thoughts, one being: Roger Knapp, I still can't quite believe he's gone.
My observations of Roger started in my old tennis days in high school, among the most fun times in my life. Not to sound like a codger who can't escape the past, but a typical summer evening in Indianola consisted of heading to the Simpson College courts and hitting tennis balls all night. Lots of people in town played tennis. College faculty, teenagers, women's groups, musicians (two top players on our team were horn players who have gone on to outstanding jazz performance and university teaching careers). Heck, a first date with a girl from Lincoln, that big school in the big city, consisted of bringing her down to Indianola to play some tennis. Even my good friend in college, a state tournament high school golfer from Kennedy in Cedar Rapids, loved playing tennis, and could hit the ball very well. That was an era of where two-thirds of the men's U.S. Open tennis field were U.S. players, a far cry from where the U.S. is today on the men's tour.
And among us tennis rats in towns across Iowa, the tennis hero to all of us was Roger Knapp. Any sports nut who's been around for a spell in this state probably knows of Roger. His untimely passing a year ago spring in Florida at age 48 from an aortal aneurysm was and still is a jolt.
I was on the Indianola High School tennis team--playing in the lofty No. 3 doubles slot--when Roger played for Des Moines Hoover. He was the first freshman to win the state tennis title, and played at a level well beyond the prevailing talent level in Iowa. He moved to California after his sophomore year so he could play year-round. I believe he lived in the La Jolla area, and ended up playing for tennis powerhouse USC, lettering all four years. He briefly made it onto the men's pro tour, and if I recall, his biggest win was over Henri Leconte in England, a world top-10 player at the time. Some people mentioned he was one heck of a basketball player as well, and could have done some damage as a Huskie roundballer if he hadn't specialized in tennis.
Knapp played an exhibition match against his pro coach, Pancho Segura, on an outdoor court at Southridge Mall (the Jordan Creek of Des Moines during that time) in the early 1980s. Pancho, with his two-handed forehand, beat him. I don't know if Knapp was trying that hard or not, but he was just as great of sport after that kind of humiliation as when he was beating up on poor, sacrificial high schoolers.
Whenever Hoover came to town for a meet, Knapp would unfold his 6-foot 4-inch frame out of the team van and run onto the court and introduce himself to his next victim. "Hi, I'm Roger," he'd cheerfully say. As if he even needed to say who he was. He would then proceed to methodically dismantle the poor sap while the rest of us tennis underlings looked on in awe. His racket in high school was the old Wilson T-2000. Can you imagine using that racket today? It'd be like hitting a fastball with a wiffle bat. Knapp's Herculean left arm turned that old-school relic into a nuclear launcher.
Tennis is a great sport, dependent on individual skill, athleticism and endurance. Tennis participation, down for so many years, may be making a comeback. And a great rivalry may be taking shape, akin to the Borg/McEnroe era, between Federer and Nadal. A New York Times Magazine monster-size feature on Rafael Nadal a couple of weeks ago talked about the pro tennis world being absolutely agog over Nadal's "reverse forehand" stroke (in addition to being agog over his triceps). That forehand technique is unique; instead of following through over the opposite shoulder, Nadal's forehand stroke violently whips up over his same-side shoulder. Most pro players put topspin on their forehand shot that comes in anywhere from 1800 to 2700 revolutions per minute, according to the article. Nadal's reverse forehand has been "clocked" spinning at 4900 RPM, making the ball rebound like a hyperkinetic Tazmanian Devil when it lands on the court.
I miss Knapp, I miss Dick Enberg calling Wimbledon with Bud Collins on TV, and the occasional pro exhibtion match that would come to Des Moines (remember Borg playing at Vets Auditorium?) But I love watching Nadal, Federer (who may be the best ever), and the Williams sisters. I understand Roosevelt's Charlie Caris, a three-time state champ headed to Georgetown, has as good of game as has been seen around here in a long time. Maybe tennis in this country never was in decline. Maybe, as the Ryder Cup has shown in golf, the rest of the world has caught up with us.
--Craig S. Maltby, APR
*
Roger Knapp, who was Drake's men's tennis coach from 1989 to 1993, died March 30, 2008 in Sarasota, Fla. Knapp coached the Bulldogs to consecutive Missouri Valley Conference championships in 1992 and 1993. He transformed a program that owned a 3-20 record when he joined Drake in 1989 into a perennial power in the conference with nationally-ranked players. Craig Maltby lives in Clive].
