A True US Champion |
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Going into my semifinal match against Damian Walker at the S.L. Green, I felt confident about my chances. True, I had never even won so much as a game in any of our three previous meetings, and there was no sign that Damian, the defending champion, was slowing down. But the day before I had played the best match of my life, beating last year's finalist Richard Chin in three games. And though that match had been very tough physically, my body had a whole day to recover before the semifinal. If ever I had the opportunity to challenge Damian, this was it.
It was not to be. Instead of giving Damian a good match, he gave me a clinic, winning in three very lopsided games. He was simply too good—against me, and against all of his opponents that weekend. Preston Quick had played brilliantly throughout the tournament, most notably in his four game semifinal win over Dave McNeely, but in the final not even he could manage to win a game from Damian. Let there be no doubt—Damian is a great asset to US squash. With two consecutive national titles under his belt, he is the undisputed American to beat, and he has earned himself a tremendous amount of respect. It is much deserved. Success breeds jealousy, however, and many find it easy to root against him. Why? Primarily because he is not a product of the American squash system. Born in England to British parents, he did not move to the United States until he was 22, and he became a citizen only two years ago after his marriage to Californian Ali Field. He may now be a citizen, some say, but he isn't as American as Mark Talbott or Marty Clark, two previous S.L. Green winners. Who wants our national champion to have a foreign accent anyway? Further stacking the cards against Damian is the fact that people tend to pull for the hardest workers—the Rudy factor—and Damian himself admits, or at least pretends, that he doesn't spend all that much time on his game, certainly not as much as his American competitors (he was the only semifinalist in this year's Green who is not playing full-time). Never all that interested in training, he has always placed a greater premium on making a living than on making it on the tour. After winning numerous British junior titles, Damian was poised to rise to the top of the pro game when he joined the PSA at age 17. Doing that would have required years of financial insecurity, however—a sacrifice that Damian was unwilling to make. He instead chose to teach squash while pursuing his competitive career part-time, a decision which ultimately brought him to the US. He attained his highest world ranking, 36, when he was the pro at the Santa Barbara Athletic Club, and after working in Sacramento, Atlanta and at the Naval Academy, he recently became the head pro at the Greenwich Field Club in Connecticut. If he came to America seeking financial security, he has certainly found it: his current job is one of the most lucrative squash coaching positions in the country. Preston Quick, by contrast, manages to play the circuit by working part-time jobs, a fact which gave some people yet another reason to wish that he, not Damian, had gone home with the winner's trophy—and with it the accompanying $6600 check. Because of Damian's dominance, some might hope that he decides to call it quits in the next few years, allowing someone else—this time a “real” American—to be crowned champion. That would be unfortunate. The truth is that it does the rest of us American pros a great deal of good to have Damian play the nationals, and not just because it allows him to be on, and therefore greatly strengthen, our national team. Why? He raises the bar. In so starkly bringing out the limitations of our games, he shows us how inexperienced we are and how much better we can become. What's more, he shows us that the answer does not lie simply in getting fitter. He is 33, and he spends more time brushing his teeth than he does running court sprints. Yet he never seems to break a sweat in matches—he just stands on the T and lets his opponents do the running. To beat him, we will have to outplay him, and we have to be able to beat him if we are going to make a significant move up the rankings, as individuals and as a national team. Seeing as no US male is currently ranked in the top 90, and our men's team finished 19th at last year's world championships, we have a lot of work to do. But thanks in no small part to the fact that each of us has our sights squarely set on overtaking Damian as the US No. 1, we are moving forward. The irony of it all, of course, is that Damian is a real American. He came here over 10 years ago seeking opportunity, and through a lot of hard work he has found it. He loves this country, and he is interested in working with our national teams in a coaching or advisory role to pass on the lessons that he has learned in his many years in the game. US squash is all the better because he is a part of it. Given that, one can't help but feel badly that so few people root for him. Then again, if my semifinal match against Damian was any indication, he seems to need the fan support less than the rest of us. |
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Going into my semifinal match against Damian Walker at the S.L. Green, I felt confident about my chances. True, I had never even won so much as a game in any of our three previous meetings, and there was no sign that Damian, the defending champion, was slowing down. But the day before I had played the best match of my life, beating last year's finalist Richard Chin in three games. And though that match had been very tough physically, my body had a whole day to recover before the semifinal. If ever I had the opportunity to challenge Damian, this was it.




