Regardless Of How You Feel Inside, Always

There Were Times When I Asked Myself Whether I Was Being Principled Or Simply A Coward.... I Was Wrapped In The Cocoon Of Tennis Early In Life, Mainly By Blacks Like My Most Powerful Mentor, Dr. Robert Walter Johnson Of Lynchburg, Virginia. They Insisted That I Be Unfailingly Polite On The Court, Unfalteringly Calm And Detached, So That Whites Could Never Accuse Me Of Meanness. I Learned Well. I Look At Photographs Of The Skinny, Frail, Little Black Boy That I Was In The Early 1950s, And I See That I Was My Tennis Racquet And My Tennis Racquet Was Me. It Was My Rod And My Staff.

I Would Like To Flood South Africa With Black Personages Of All Sorts Of Persuasions: Writers, Educators, Businessmen, You Name It. If You Are Black And Have Any Clout At All, I Would Like To See You Go To South Africa And Look For Yourself And Come Back And Try To Use The Tools That You Have At Your Command To Try And Help The Brothers Down There.

You've Got To Make A Lot Of Sacrifices And Spend A Lot Of Time If You Really Want To Achieve With This Sport, Or In Any Sport, Or In Anything Truly Worthwhile.

I Strongly Believe The Black Culture Spends Too Much Time, Energy And Effort Raising, Praising, And Teasing Our Black Children About The Dubious Glories Of Professional Sports.

Trust Has To Be Earned, And Should Come Only After The Passage Of Time.