The Chairperson of the USTA Foundation writes about the importance of family, and of giving back. In the summer of 1975, the stars aligned for a perfect opportunity for me to finally win my country’s championship at the US Open.
Coming to New York that season, I was already a three-time major champion—the year before at the French Open and Wimbledon, and again in Paris in the spring—while not yet 21 years old. After four heartbreaking semifinal losses in my first four trips to New York, I so badly wanted to break through at my home major.
I was thrilled when the US Open made the move to clay courts that year–and remained that way in 1976 and 1977. I knew it was my best surface, and in the summer of 1975, I was in the middle of a 125-match winning streak on clay. That fact alone had me standing a little taller every time I walked on court. The competitor in me will tell you it was also wonderful to beat one of my rivals, Evonne Goolagong, in a come-from-behind, three-set final at Forest Hills. But when reflecting on that memorable run now, 50 years later, my biggest takeaway from it is looking up at my mother right after I won and seeing her sobbing. I realized how much it meant to her. As I think about it now, I want to cry. It was very emotional for me to see her care so much about her daughter’s US Open victory.
My family and upbringing made me not only the player I was, but the person I became.
I was one of five children raised by my mother, Colette, and my dad, Jimmy, in Fort Lauderdale. He taught tennis and ran the facility at the Holiday Park Tennis Center. My dad was a very good player who won the Canadian Championships in 1947. He thought tennis could bring us a healthy life. He was my coach as well as my father, first bringing me into the sport when I was six.
While tennis really wasn’t a choice for me or any of my four siblings, the reason my dad got me and my brothers and sisters to play tennis was not to be No. 1 in the world or win big titles, but to provide a safe haven for us—to keep us “off the streets,” as he put it. We would go to Holiday Park daily to play tennis after school, and my dad kept an eye on all of us—including the other children.
He was very proud to create two world-class professional athletes in me and my sister, Jeanne, who made it to No. 9 in the U.S. and No. 28 in the world. But he was just as happy that my three other siblings all got scholarships and played No. 1 for their colleges. We were all very supportive of each other and there were no jealousies among us. We put family first, and I feel that impact to this day. My brother John and I created the Evert Tennis Academy about 30 years ago, which is also a family environment, inclusive of parents and mentoring the kids.
My mother and father played different but equally significant roles in shaping me. My mom was the most emotional member of our family, generously taking good care of all of our other needs including socializing, academics and our meals. My dad molded my game and was instrumental in my success. He was good about not putting pressure on me to win. I was lucky to have two parents who both passed along their best qualities to me.
My father’s philosophy was to look after all of his children while we practiced and socialized with the other kids at Holiday Park. I, and countless others, benefited from my dad’s wisdom, on and off the tennis court—and that spirit still persists throughout the game today. A lot of what he instilled in us are the same values that drive the mission of the USTA Foundation, which I have chaired since 2019 and enjoy tremendously.
I can relate to the young people involved with the USTA Foundation because I had opportunities a lot of them never previously were given. I have visited many of the sites where these kids play, seen the programs they are part of, and been on Zoom sessions with them. The Foundation is purposeful—and not only about tennis. Some of our young people have gone on to play professionally and succeed on a high level, including Frances Tiafoe. But many others get college scholarships, good guidance, and job training. They might be helped by the Foundation when they are 12, but this is about their future. We want to have young people be a part of the organizations we support when they are 16, 18, and further still.
I believe deeply in what the USTA Foundation is doing. It is rewarding for me to affect someone’s life and to try to open up doors for them. It gets back to how I was raised, to parental influence. My mom was a Eucharistic minister, giving holy communion to people in nursing homes and bringing all of our used clothes to places helping the less fortunate. My father would give free clinics and supply kids with free racquets and balls. Giving back was ingrained in me, and that’s why working with the USTA Foundation hits close to home.
“My family and upbringing made me not only the player I was, but the person I became.”
While I was blessed to win 18 Grand Slam singles titles and reach world No. 1, the legacy I hope to leave isn’t contained in a trophy case. Fifty years on from that fateful Forest Hills effort, I look back and I think about those who helped me get there. I think about my parents and siblings—and how champions are built both on and off the court. Anything is possible when young people are given an opportunity, and doing for future generations what my family did for me is my way of paying it forward.
If you have good fortune, you should spread it around. Of all the lessons my parents taught me, that might be the most priceless one.
