Hunting Geoff

A Recent Look at One of the Game's Greatest Competitors

By Michael Moreskine

Photos by Steve Line/Squashpics.com

Geoff Hunt Records
World Open:
1975, Winner over Mohibullah Khan
1976, Winner over Qamar Zaman
1979, Winner over Qamar Zaman
1980, Winner over Qamar Zaman
1981, Finalist to Jahangir Khan
British Open:
1969, Winner over Cam Nancarrow
1970 Finalist to Jonah Barrington
1972, Finalist to Jonah Barrington
1974, Winner over Mo Yasin
1976, Winner over Mohibullah Khan
1977, Winner over Cam Nancarrow
1978, Winner over Qamar Zaman
1979, Winner over Qamar Zaman
1980, Winner over Qamar Zaman
1981, Winner over Jahangir Khan

Geoff Hunt is practicing drops from midcourt. His racquet moves in graceful, flowing patterns, each follow-through full and intentional. The ball sails again and again into the corner, drawn to the nick as if on an invisible thread.

He stops when I enter the court. "My drop shot was never very good," he says, bluntly. "Looks pretty good to me," I reply, wondering if I had ever before witnessed such effortless control on a short shot. "I've been working on it." "Would you hit some volley corners?" I ask, having tried mightily to learn this drill that Hunt used to practice into the hundreds of repetitions during his playing days. Hunt hesitates a moment, then turns and begins the drill. . . the ball flies unerringly to the same spot in each corner, each time, the movement of his racquet through the line of the shot, infinitely repeatable.

"I feel that if I came back tomorrow, you could still be here hitting volley corners."

No comment.

Twenty-one years have passed since Geoff Hunt won his eighth British Open. The world's leading player for more than a decade, he won the first three World Amateur Championships (1967, '69, '71) and the first four World Open Championships, starting with the inaugural event in 1975 (also the British Open that year). His matches with the charismatic Jonah Barrington and shotmaking wizard Qamar Zaman played to full galleries. Hunt's first British Open win was in 1969; his final one was in 1981 over 17-year-old Jahangir Khan, whose own era of dominance would begin some months later in a four-game showdown with Hunt at the World Open.

Gifted with a sprinter's speed, Hunt was quick onto the ball, used the volley often, and built his stamina to the highest level then reached in squash. He preferred an aggressive game based on length drives, deep crosscourts, and attacking boasts, yet was willing to take a much more patient, chess-like approach in order to prevail over a tough opponent.

As the story goes-according to Grant Pinnington, who was in the front row-Hunt was well into the semifinal of a World Open in Adelaide, playing the world's then most powerful player, Hiddy Jahan. The ball would thunder off Jahan's racquet and Hunt would chip it back tightly into the back corners. Several broken racquets later, frustration at the breaking point, Jahan hit a corkscrew lob. It looked like a winner, the ball lofting deep into the back corner where it skimmed along an inch from the back wall, by rights absolutely unplayable. Yet Hunt casually moved into position, bent low to the nick and flicked his racquet up, lifting the ball in a delicate lob that floated to the front wall and dropped perfectly. An unbelievable shot. Jahan was stunned. The crowd went wild, and Hunt took over.

Hunt's mental toughness was legendary. Jahangir would say, of the lessons learned and words of wisdom offered to him after losing to Hunt in the British Open: "All those things helped to ensure that psychologically I would not go the way of other players who never came back after long battles with Hunt."

In the second World War, Hunt's father, Victor, served as an officer, living through brutal combat experiences which later influenced his quietly tenacious approach to the game of squash, which he came to love with a passion. Becoming an A-level player in his late 40s, Vic introduced his two boys and one girl to the game, and there were many family discussions of the fine points. Though compliments were not forthcoming from his dad, Hunt thrived on the discipline (and still believes in it). "Dad would never really compliment you, he'd just sort of point things out. He'd have a list. . . if I played a match-right-these things he thought I could try and improve for next time. He was continually looking at what would help me."

Jonah Barrington (L) vs. Geoff Hunt, British Open 1980

His dad's influence can be seen in the high premium which Hunt places on the ability to drive the ball straight. "Dad said: 'Look, if you want to become good at squash, you've got to be able to hit the ball down the wall to good length. You should really practice that.' So I decided to work on it every day. In fact, I gave a talk recently at the Sandringham Club, where Dad used to play, and recounted the story of how I spent many hours on that court, just hitting the ball up and down the wall-while Dad was in the bar."

Early on, Hunt modeled his game on that of Ken Hiscoe, who did so much to popularize squash in Australia and who became a mentor when Hunt first went on tour with the Australian team, captained by Hiscoe. The two players frequently met as opponents in the major tournaments, teamed up as partners on the professional circuit, and have remained the best of friends.

Now in his mid-50s, trim, fit, and quite active athletically, Hunt is in his 17th year as head squash coach of the Australian Institute of Sport and also works for Squash Australia. Rodney Martin shares the AIS coaching duties with Hunt, having come through the Institute's program on his way to world No. 1. The two men work well together, their coaching ideas evolving from this active collaboration. At different times in the past, Heather McKay and Hiscoe also coached at the Institute. It was then geared to giving the top Australian juniors a chance to develop their squash and prepare for the professional circuit. A few years ago, the focus shifted to working with senior players who are ready to live on their own and skilled enough to start moving into the top 100 worldwide.

The AIS rents time on the squash courts in the Bodyworks Southside Club, located in a quiet neighborhood out in the Brisbane countryside. There is a small industrial park nearby and, as if on a whim, a large, modern bonsai center just up the street. The Southside Club, though a bit frayed around the edges, is very well run and has a relaxed, restful atmosphere. The weight room is good and the gym is popular with the locals.

In training sessions at the club, fundamentals are a primary issue. Alert to where the player is going with his or her own progress in a drill, Hunt is sparing with his comments, waiting for the right moment to step in and make corrections. "We certainly do a lot of drill work, which involves hitting the ball accurately, on the volley or not, driving the ball rather than going too much into playing the ball short. You generally find that most players fall down because they become shot-happy and start playing shots when they're not in position."

Hunt and former Australian junior champ Cameron Pilley work with Stewart Boswell one afternoon in preparation for Boswell's upcoming battles in the YMG Tournament. They mercilessly pressure-feed the ball from the back of the court until Stewart emerges 20 minutes later, drenched in sweat, drooping from exhaustion. Hunt allows him a few moments of rest and then it is back at it.

To get fit to play squash, or vice versa... Jonah Barrington was Hunt's model in the fitness department, and a friend by the name of John Ireton was responsible for goading Hunt into a much more intense training regimen than he had been using early in his career. "We were in Melbourne, playing a round robin series-there was Gogi Allaudin, Jonah, Kenny Hiscoe-four of us," recalls Hunt. "And John asked me, 'What do you do for training? You're all right until you lose on your fitness.' 'Well, I play a fair bit of squash,' I said, 'And I do a little running.' And he said, 'What sort of running do you do?' 'Oh, a few 400-meter repetitions.' 'How many?' (I used to do some-about four-every now and then. But I thought, 'It doesn't sound very good if I only tell him four, so I'll tell him a bit of a white lie...') So I said, 'I do about eight 400s.' 'Oh, that's not very much,' he said. 'Well...,' I thought, 'I'll show him..." I started gradually building up until I was doing enormous volumes of 400-meter intervals. I know that Jonah was getting towards the end of his career, but within 12 months, he never beat me again. And lack of fitness never again played a part in any of my losses."

It was on a rainy day that Hunt and I sat down to lunch and I was treated to a lengthy discussion of the rules , especially regarding clearing and interference. There seemed to be no easy answers and Hunt's frustration was evident. "The rules are quite clear as to what should happen in terms of interference. Unfortunately-from my observation-very few of the referees can see if a player's just pretending to get the ball, or deliberately blocking someone else out. Referees get confused with the way the rules have been changed in recent years from being reasonably simple to being about double in size and a lot more complicated. I know that the refs' intentions are sound, but what tends to happen is that the players learn the rules by the way they're being given decisions, and there are so many strange ones given, the players are probably not sure what's a let and what's not a let.

"As an example, a player asks for a let and the referee says, 'No let.' The player asks why and the referee invariably says something like, 'You hit a bad shot,' something that's got nothing to do with what the rules actually say. They make some really erroneous comment.

"When a player incurs a penalty stroke and questions it, I never, ever hear the referees say, 'You didn't make enough effort to get out of the way'-which is what the rules say. The referees will say something like, 'Well, you were caught in the way,' or 'You didn't clear.'

"The players understand whether their opponents are deliberately trying to block them out and whether they could really get the ball back or not. That's where we probably need to encourage-or pay for-ex players to be schooled up on the actual rules so that they can do the refereeing in important matches," Hunt concludes.

Hunt's way of dealing with bad calls was probably one of the critical ingredients in his success. He accepted that there might be two or three more bad calls coming his way than against his opponent and simply decided that he would make up the difference in extra points earned. "I was confident enough in my ability to believe that even if I got these decisions against me, I could still win the next rally and be able to win the match. And I'd always put forward in the referee's mind what the rules say, to help him make the next decision in the right way. I would say, 'Let, please.' The marker would rule, 'Let.' And I'd say-and try to say it in a civil manner-'Shouldn't that be a stroke, because my opponent didn't make every effort to get out of the way?' Now I know he's not going to give me the stroke on that point, because he already made his decision, and very few referees will ever overturn their decisions. But the next time it comes around, he might think, 'Ha, I might check, see how much effort he's making,' and maybe I would have the benefit then."

Rumors circulate that Jonah Barrington wanted to set up an exhibition match with Hunt, now that each has had two hip resurfacing operations and is able to develop some match fitness.

"Oh, we just spoke briefly on the phone about having a few games, just a casual thing, really," Hunt says. "You wouldn't want an audience. . .some friends, at least?"

Hunt bows his head for a moment, remembering. Then he smiles. "I must admit, it would probably be fun. . .an exhibition game here and there. . .for a few people who would appreciate old-time squash."