Bill Simons
Dick Gould’s backers have united to give the most seminal figure in the history of college tennis at least a small measure of the honor he deserves.
Sure, due to the odd quirks of power and perception in tennis, one of the great leaders in the American game has repeatedly been denied his proper place in the International Tennis Hall of Fame.
Not to be deterred, 75 former Stanford players are gathering this weekend to celebrate him. There will be interviews, parties and assorted shoutouts. It’s Gould’s weekend at the Open.
Here’s my take on this singular man.
Arthur Ashe was our conscience. Billie Jean King was our trailblazer. Legendary Stanford coach Dick Gould was cut from the same cloth. He was the heart and soul – the gold standard – of college tennis.
Seventeen NCAA team titles. Seventeen. That isn’t just a coaching record; it’s a dynasty. For 34 consecutive years, every single four-year player who wore the Cardinal uniform walked away with a championship ring. It was an era of dominance so complete that people used to say, “Dick doesn’t recruit – he reloads.”
His players won 10 NCAA singles titles and seven doubles crowns. Nine of his players reached the ATP’s top 15. Thirteen won at least one Grand Slam, 16 played Davis Cup, 16 were Olympians and fifty were All-Americans. Pretty ridiculous, yes? Gould was the Collegiate Coach of the Decade in the 1980s and the 1990s, and was named the college coach of the 20th century.
His coaching tour de force came in 1978 when he guided a ferocious genius, John McEnroe, through a tumultuous and triumphant year. The 18-year-old freshman had just reached the Wimbledon semis and was burned out. Gould brilliantly read the weary man-child and the moment. “The words John McEnroe and practice just don’t go together,” quipped broadcaster Ted Robinson. “So Gould told John, ‘Don’t worry, just be ready for the matches.’”
The greatest entrepreneur and showman in collegiate tennis, Gould brought the sport indoors. For years, Friday night tennis rocked Maples Pavilion. There the Stanford band, rabid fans and the media descended.
He helped build stadiums, wrote insightful books and gave thoughtful speeches. No one supported grassroots tennis around the Silicon Valley like Gould. He was always there for kids, fundraisers and good causes.
When I started Inside Tennis 45 years ago, everyone told me Dick Gould was a legend. I started to drill down. At tournaments across the globe, I’d quiz his former players – from John and Pat McEnroe, Tim Mayotte and Scott Davis to Jonathan Stark, Jared Palmer, Dan Goldie, Paul Goldstein, Alex O’Brien and the Bryan brothers. I’d ask, “Is Gould really as good as his reviews?” Certainly one of his former players would crack and dish some dicey dirt. I craved a big reveal. A little hint of vanity or an ethical violation or two sure would have added some spice.
It never came. The takeaway was clear: Eagle Scout, apple pie, straight shooter. After a decade or two, I gave up. I sighed, “Maybe, in this case, all that is Gould does indeed glitter.” Eventually, I came to agree with Bob and Mike Bryan’s dad Wayne, who gushed, “The closer you observe, the better he gets. He’s great from a distance, but he’s even greater up close. He’s like the Grand Canyon, Big Sur and Yosemite – he’s not overrated.”
Having standard-bearers like John McEnroe and the Bryan brothers on his roster tells you how extraordinary a coach Gould was. But whether you were a future Hall of Famer or a confused freshman just trying to find your way, Dick was always there for you.
His secret sauce was in the little things: the handwritten thank-you notes, the caring advice and an unshakeable commitment to sportsmanship, execution, and grace under pressure. Was he macho? Hell, yes. But kindness was at his core.
Gould knew his assets: Woo top prospects. Get the guys to bond, and peak at the end of the season. Doubles is an art form. Play aggressive ball. Lefties do damage – think John McEnroe, Bob Bryan, Roscoe Tanner, Nick Saviano, Jeff Tarango, Jeff Salzenstein, Jim Gurfein and Pete Rennert. And for God’s sake, be brotherly (as in the McEnroes, the Bryans and the Mayers).
His seventeen championships tell you why Dick Gould was a legendary coach. His quiet kindness tells you why he was a great man.
Tennis has plenty of mysteries, but here’s one of the biggest: How on earth is this man not in the International Tennis Hall of Fame?
