I played on Paul’s evening adult group lesson court once a week for several years and was always happy to be assigned to his court. Even though Paul was teaching tennis and doing other related work for many hours a day, he never exhibited any fatigue or ennui. His love of the game and his affection for people shone through. He never let a great shot pass by without praise. He also was diligent about improving flaws in my game even during busy group sessions. For example, he would gently grasp my hand or wrist to demonstrate subtle but important tweaks while others waited patiently, knowing they would get their turn with a great teacher. When Paul criticized some failure of technique during a rally, he did it in a funny way. He might be the only coach who referred to raising your head prematurely on groundstrokes as “chin music,” as in, “I’m seeing a lot of chin music out there!” Paul drew on his encyclopedic knowledge of tennis and other sports to illustrate his teaching points or just to entertain his students. He taught breathing techniques that could have come from yoga or meditation or perhaps just his own vast experience as a player. Paul always tried to squeeze a few extra minutes of play for his group instead of beating a path to the door at the close of nighttime sessions. He showed through deed and word how to compete and work to improve while never forgetting to have fun. Those were great lessons on many levels.
I played on Paul’s evening adult group lesson court once a week for several years and was always happy to be assigned to his court. Even though Paul was teaching tennis and doing other related work for many hours a day, he never exhibited any fatigue or ennui. His love of the game and his affection for people shone through. He never let a great shot pass by without praise. He also was diligent about improving flaws in my game even during busy group sessions. For example, he would gently grasp my hand or wrist to demonstrate subtle but important tweaks while others waited patiently, knowing they would get their turn with a great teacher. When Paul criticized some failure of technique during a rally, he did it in a funny way. He might be the only coach who referred to raising your head prematurely on groundstrokes as “chin music,” as in, “I’m seeing a lot of chin music out there!” Paul drew on his encyclopedic knowledge of tennis and other sports to illustrate his teaching points or just to entertain his students. He taught breathing techniques that could have come from yoga or meditation or perhaps just his own vast experience as a player. Paul always tried to squeeze a few extra minutes of play for his group instead of beating a path to the door at the close of nighttime sessions. He showed through deed and word how to compete and work to improve while never forgetting to have fun. Those were great lessons on many levels.
