Dropping Teddy

We had quite a discussion last night at the The Competitor Gene post (below) on a remarkable tennis prodigy, five-year old Jan Kristian Silva. The wild card in the dialog was the participation of Jan's father, Scott. His name somehow was under my radar despite our robust correspondence (in which he was Lawson Silva), and he did not divulge that he was Jan's dad until late in the debate. This made for a pretty extraordinary situation; read the Comments if you haven't done so already.

My own opinions on Scott's position are somewhat conditioned by a 180-degree turn I made in my feelings about tennis prodigies when I became fairly close with Monica Seles late father, Karolj. He frequently expressed strong reservations about the kind of life Monica had chosen (and I use that word carefully) as a tennis pro, and confessed that the last thing he wanted his daughter to be was a "A neurotic tennis player who was incapable of just enjoying herself and partaking of normal life and perhaps having a family." (the quote is translated from Hungarian, both of our native language).

Over time, I learned something that was, at the time, very revealing to me. Karolj did not plan a tennis career for his daughter, or push her into one. He introduced her to the game, and she took to it like a house on fire; very quickly the scenario became one of the cart (Monica and tennis) leading the horse (parents and ordinary life). I have no reason to even suspect that Karolj was making this up for my benefit. Why would he?

I've written this about the Seleses before, in a few places. But it bears repeating here, because the situation of the Silvas bears comparison to that of the Seleses in many ways. The main difference is that Jan Kristian is still just five, and that is a significant caveat.

But consider this: When Monica was a child in the former nation of Yugoslavia in the early 1980s, Karolj didn't have the resources to get Monica the best tennis training available. He ended up taking an enormous gamble and re-locating to Bradenton, Fla., where Nick Bollettieri wisely and also kindly - yes, he is capable of great kindness - gave the Seleses a beachhead for developing Monica, which included providing her family with the basic security of a place to live and daily sustenance while they pursued the course on which Monica seemed hellbent.

Note too, that Monica insisted all through her career that Karolj -not Bollettieri - was her coach. Many people assumed that was the typically arrogant and self-absorbed conceit of a player (and family) that had circled the wagons, and lived in the terrible fear that the one, single, solitary thing they had going for themselves - Monica's spectacular talent - would somehow be taken from them, that someone else would get the glory, the credit, or perhaps even lay a claim on Monica's assets.

But remember that people who start with nothing very often become borderline compulsive about losing some, or all, of what they manage to accumulate. This helps explain why, in her later years, Seles - already a multi-millionairess many times over - had a reputation for hoarding and trying to squeeze every dime of income out of every possible opportunity. Pro Am? At 5 A.M?  A thousand extra? Sure I'll do it! You want to find the first nickel Jimmy Connors ever earned? Just look under his mattress. Only those who have faced material want can understand the importance of this factor.

Lawson Scott Silva and his wife, Mari Maattanenn Silva (a teaching pro and former Finnish national tennis champ - there's one to fact-check, for anyone interested in sleuthwork) are in a stressful situation. They have on their hands a legitimate prodigy, albeit one so young that all of the usual concerns vis a vis physique, temperament, and mental fitness must be highlighted and underlined. But they don't have the resources to support their child's  development - at least not in the specific way the collusion of destiny and personality have framed the issue for them. You see, it doesn't matter that some kids have a "normal" life and wind up being tennis stars; the one thing we know for sure is that, for a variety of reasons, Jan Kristian clearly is not one of those kids.

But in the Silva's case, being overly prudent, or hedging their bet by consciously downgrading their hopes - if for no other reason that the odds of Jan being the next Andre Agassi are indeed slim -  would be amount to nothing less defeatism. I can trot out a very impressive list of people, from novelists and filmmakers to tennis players and entrepreneurs, who will tell you that the most critical component in their success was simple courage (and its telling how rarely such people would use that word, except under duress).

You want to know why Maria Sharapova is so close to her father, Giant Punching Bag Yuri?  My theory is that because whatever else he did or didn't do, and whatever else you can say about him as a man, he took an enormous gamble on her talent. He showed courage. And I think she understands that. Many men in his shoes would have settled for being taxi-cab drivers in some Black Sea resort, and at some point the reasons and motivations for why people do one or the other simply cease to matter, except as points for discussion. The fact is they do one or the other, and it can make all the difference in the world. Would Monica Seles be a happier girl flipping burgers alongside Kevin Federline at a Burger King? I'll never know. But neither will you.

But getting back to the Silvas. This is clearly a family the lives and breathes sports. It would be presumptuous to assume that Scott isn't aware of the pressures and strains that accompany success - or merely striving for it - in big-time sports. In that regard, it's probably a real plus that Scott was the equivalent of a hoops journeyman (see 1:48 PM comment by Scott **in the previous post for the backstory). It prepared him for what he is going through now with Jan, and here's the short version:

The Silvas are from California, where Mari (a Finn) was teaching tennis and Scott labored in the Welfare Department of the city of Sacramento, working with the homeless, when Jan Kristian's gift became manifest. They have two other children, Jasmin, 2, and Kadyn a 10-year old boy. There are no video clips of them circulating, and that's a telling detail.

Vic Braden (a highly respected coach) was most impressed by a clip of Jan when the boy was about three. At about the same time, Mark Gorski, an IMG operative affiliated with The Nick Bollettieri Tennis Academy, grew so weary of Scott's advances, which began when Jan was two, that he told him, "Stop bothering me about your three-year old." He told Scott to just send a tape. Shortly after that tape arrived, according to Scott, Nick called and left a message saying he needed to speak with Scott "urgently." But when Nick evaluated Jan, Scott did not like what he heard. He felt that Nick did not properly appreciate Jan's talent, and would probably develop him as a one-dimensional player.

Now this, if the story is accurate, took courage. If the Silvas were merely opportunistic, wouldn't they have leaped at the chance to become one of Nick's anointed ones? And I can't help but ask that those of you who believe that Bollettieri specializes in turning out ham-fisted bangers who have popularized least-common denominator tennis appreciate the significance of the stance the Silvas took. At around this time, Jan also had the chance to hit with Jimmy Connors (among others), who was no less impressed than Braden. The next significant player in the picture was Marcos Baghdatis - a kid who knows a thing or two about the price  of precocity.

After seeing Jan hit the ball, Baghdatis helped hook the Silvas up with his own coach, and the result was an invitation for the Silvas to relocate to France and train at the facility of Baghdatis's coach, Patrick Mouratoglou, theMouratoglou Academy.  The Silvas were even given jobs: she was in charge of the academy's "short-term program" while Scott was supposed to develop and sell a tennis "reality" show (hit this out of the park if you want, but remember - it's a beachball; it won't get you much respect at this end).

And this is where the Silvas are now. But really, who knows where they'll be in the future, because one thing is clear: They aren't afraid to follow opportunity (in fact, you could easily characterize them as opportunistic), but doesn't all of this suggest that they are driven by a vision of what is best for their son?

Wait! You cry. Best for their son in what sense? As a little tennis machine?

This is an absolutely valid question, but the only answer I feel confident to give is this quote from Scott's first lengthy email to me following my publication of the video clip of Jan Kristian.

You can be cynical about this if you like; I can't bring myself to do it. It just denies Scott Silva the benefit of doubt that I would wish to get if I were in an analogous situation in my own sphere of life. What we have in Jan, much like that little Glodjo girl I wrote about a few months ago, seems to be - so far -  a reprise of Monica Seles.

Here are a few other things I'm thinking about in this volatile story: tennis is a culture, those who dwell in it have a different perspective than you or me. It tells you something about tennis when a Connors or Baghdatis goes to bat for this kid, and it isn't just about the obvious talent of the boy.

It tells you that a lot of people who know all about prodigy, burnout, pushy parents and all the rest of it have expressed their opinion.

The kid seems to be special. What do you want to do next?

And this complex story should remind you that as shocked or dismayed as you may be by the theoretical exploitation of this five-year old, you spend a lot of time and mental energy watching, admiring and perhaps even envying people who have been down a road remarkably similar road to the one little Jan is starting on, teddy bear in one hand and racket in another. Wait. He already dropped the teddy.

My own little boy, Luke, is about the same age as Jan Kristian. The only thing Luke is obsessed with at the moment is his Thomas the Tank Engine toys (of course, there's also this little fascination with torturing me), and so I'm not sending videos to Nick, or asking Pete to hit tennis balls with him. I can't take the racket out of Jan Kristian's hand any more than I could take Percy, Bulstrode, Mavis, or any of Luke's other beloved little steam engines, out of his. Where it all goes remains to be seen.

I don't believe that the Silvas way is the only route to success in tennis, and that brings us to a final point. The paths to tennis distinction are gloriously diverse and singular. There is no one-size-fits-all recipe for success, and trying to find one could hurt an interested child's chance of success far more than help it. This is precisely the Silva's problem. You don't have to follow the opportunity and leap on the fast track of development to wind up with a wonderful tennis player for a kid; but doing so has worked in many, many cases. There's just no denying that.

One of the most striking things about the remarks Scott Silva has made here is their humility. Really.Think about it:  He came onto this website and asked for our advice. My own contribution to that is pretty simple: Stay the course but always, always, be prepared to face the reality at hand, and always always be a loving parent first, a tennis coach second.

P.S. - I'd love to hear more about Mari's role and attitude about all these things, Scott.