Dear Lleyton,

I'm writing you a letter, since after seven years watching you I've finally learned that
you don't particularly like talking to people you don't know very well.

You see, Lleyton, I'm trying — as so many of us have these last five years — to get a grip on you. Are you a first-rate mate or a top-tier twerp?

For a long time, I've tried to get the answer directly from you, but I must say you dash away from interviews as rapidly as you track down approach shots. That was well done the way you worked me over in the Player's Lounge at Indian Wells. Man to man, you gave a firm handshake, looked me in the eye and said you'd be willing to talk, as you put it, "maybe later in the week." And as I've learned from the likes of Emmo, Rocket and the other great Aussies who you'll eventually join in the International Tennis Hall of Fame, an Aussie's word is good as gold, right? But then, invariably, as always with you, the notion of any kind of interview was never in the cards, as likely to happen as you missing a service return on break point.

I'm told by several of your fellow Aussies that you're extremely non-confrontational off the court. Blowing off a reporter is not exactly fair dinkum on your part, but hey, I try very hard, mate, to let a player's racquet do the talking. I suspect I'll spend my entire life trying to tell the world that your greatness as a player is far more important than the tales of linesmen you've chewed out (that time you called one a "spastic" ain't so good, particularly given your connection with the Special Olympics) or players you've angered (mostly the ones who can't beat you). And certainly your reluctance to do interviews doesn't hurt you too much in the marketplace. In your homeland, you've had deals with a wide variety of companies, ranging from Pizza Haven, National Australia Bank, Milo (Australia's equivalent of Nestle's Quik) and Sorbent (Australia's Kleenex). In Japan, Nissin Noodles. Worldwide, of course, there are also the contracts with Nike and Yonex. I'm told your racquet deal is only exceeded by Andre Agassi's. You've done charity work for children, whether through the Starlight Foundation or Special Olympics. In the U.S., it's another thing.

"I can't really tell you a lot about him," says Bob Dorfman, an executive vice president with Pickett Advertising in San Francisco who regularly writes The Sports Marketers Scouting Report. "I can't think the average sports fan could pick him out of a crowd." Then again, notes Dorfman, "With the men now in tennis, there's really not a lot of [celebrity] there."

But maybe that's just part of the overall tennis malaise, and surely we can't hold you responsible for that, can we? On the other hand, John Newcombe played it pretty smart in the '70s, creating an ongoing mix of publicity and endorsements that helped both him and tennis. Don't you think, Lleyton, that if people in the U.S. got the chance to know you beyond your great tennis that you'd build a bigger following here? And might that even aid tennis's quest to be more popular? But more seriously, Lleyton, what is it about you and your antics that even ticks off a man as gracious as James Blake? As Blake told Matt Cronin of TennisReporters.net soon after you two played in Australia, "A lot of guys in the locker room don't feel he needs to do that kind of stuff. But if he gets under other guys' skin and it helps him win — if he's more interested in winning matches than making friends in the locker room, that's his prerogative. He's not doing anything outside of the rules. Unfortunately, gamesmanship is part of our sport."

Of all people to irritate, Lleyton, James Blake? After all, it was Blake who doused the fires back at the '01 Open when you made what might have been construed as racist comments. I'll never forget spending that weekend watching that tape of you yelling at the umpire, back and forth like something out of the film "JFK." It's a shame you couldn't have at least apologized for even issuing confusing statements during the heat of battle. Alas, that incident will taint your legacy. If you will, mate, permit me to tell you that I find your playing style exceptionally compelling. Undersized counterpunchers are my specialty. At 5'8", I'm a bit of a runt too; so likely on some level I'm drawn to players who are underestimated and rely, as you do, on footwork, tenacity and mental prowess. I always loved writing about the pro from the '90s who in some ways was your predecessor, Michael Chang. And in a bit of self-promotion, I'll tell you, mate, that I've written most extensively about a player your one-time handlers at Octagon love comparing you to: Jimmy Connors.

Now it's tempting to resort to journalistic laziness and say something like, "I know Jimmy Connors. And you, sir, are no Jimmy Connors." For starters, as psychologist and former pro Allen Fox points out, "Hewitt doesn't go over the line with his emotions nearly as much as Connors." Nor are you as ungracious towards your opponents as Jimbo was for much of his career. You take losses well, Lleyton, always giving proper credit, and a true Aussie to your bones, you never issue excuses or fail to face the music.

But in many ways, Lleyton, you and Jimbo are kindred souls. You each were engaged and then broke it off with a classy blonde baseliner. You each fight with unrivaled passion, paranoia (a useful tool, so long as the player admits it) and know how to bring it on big points. You've each gotten embroiled in annoying, indulgent litigation with the ATP. What was that all about, Lleyton? By the time I checked it out, the whole thing was about your resistance to doing a simple 10-minute interview with ESPN on the eve of the 2002 Tennis Masters Cincinnati event — just a few softball questions. So your case is still winding its way through the Australian court system. At least, eventually, even Jimbo withdrew his lawsuit.

Where you differ from Connors, though, is that you're deeply loyal to Davis Cup. It's the stuff of tennis legend, how you came aboard as a 15-year-old to play that legendary Aussie role of the orange juice squeezer for a first round tie versus France in 1997. Word has it you were a sponge, absorbing every possible lesson from the likes of Patrick Rafter, Tony Roche and Newcombe. Word has it you were also a bulldog, giving your all in every practice session to show the boys you had the right stuff as a ballplayer. And you most certainly do — and likely will until you draw your last breath. "I wouldn't want to go into battle against him," says Newcombe. It's not just fight you've got, but skill. As Andy Roddick said after you'd beaten him for the sixth time in seven tries in the semis of Indian Wells, "You basically have to hit every shot that much better than him."

So if your mental will makes you like Jimbo, this Davis Cup thing makes you more like John McEnroe. You're probably also more like McEnroe in that, unlike Connors, you have a few bonafide friends, keen mates who'll rubbish you a bit and even tell you if you're acting like a wanker.

Another way you're like McEnroe is that you rely on your rather dogged father, Glynn, to direct a great many of your business affairs. Glynn says he's tired of reading this, but the world should know he was an Aussie Rules football player, a sport that's highly physical and combative. Let's just say that when it comes to matters of competition and emotion, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in the Hewitt household. The longstanding rumor has it that it was Glynn who made life intolerable for two of your coaches, Darren Cahill and Jason Stoltenberg (each of whom politely declines to speak when asked for comments on you and your family). But all seems well in your working relationship with Roger Rasheed. It was very impressive to see how, by working with Roger, you've added more heft to your frame and game. After sinking from No. 1 to 17 in 2003, you bounced back sharply in '04, finishing the year ranked No. 3. Equally impressive is that in six of the last seven Grand Slam tournaments (all four in '04 and this year's Aussie Open and Wimbledon, since you did not play Roland Garros), you've lost to the winner each time. Your house seems in order for a long run in the elite.

But it's been baffling to hear all the talk this year about the shifts within your management firm. Octagon made you and your family enough money to last 200 years. But then, this March, word came down that you were scuttling the relationship with Octagon. You made it clear that your long-time agent, Tom Ross, was no longer in the picture. The word was that your new group was based in Australia, headed by ex-Octagon employee Rob Aivatoglou, who of late has been commercial affairs manager for Cricket Australia. Glynn was directing traffic all day long from back home in Adelaide, huddling with both Aivatoglou and Octagon. All this took place during Indian Wells, and I couldn't help but wonder if all that confusion made it hard for you to compete. But as you noted when I asked you, there you were, in the final. Now I'm hearing that Octagon indeed remains in the picture, albeit likely in a different form than before. Maybe the clutter helped.

You'll have to admit, Lleyton, that your interactions with the media have hardly been as proficient as your tennis. Just so you know, we in the press are actually trying to reach a broader public that's eager not just to probe you, but to actually know you and like you. I agree that it's unfair that certain tabloid reporters in Australia have taken shots at you. But it's equally vexing that you've punished us for their transgressions (Guess what, mate? I care so little about your fiancée I'm not even going to say her name.)

Check this out loud and clear, Hewitt Family: Despite what you might think, we actually enjoy writing about people who we like and appreciate. And as Butch Buchholz, founder and chairman of the NASDAQ-100 Open noted, the one thing he'd like changed in tennis is that he'd like to see players make themselves more accessible to the press. Why? Butch doesn't care about my income. Butch cares about making this game bigger and better so that young players like you can make a living in it.

So back to your father, Glynn — and I only bring this up due to personal experience. Several years ago, Tom Ross suggested I dine with Glynn and your mother to explain the media's concerns and desire to get to know you better. It was a good idea, and I think with just about any other player in tennis history, it might have led to something good. But boy, Lleyton, your father is one rough customer. Trying to explain journalistic curiosity about you to him was ridiculously hard. Why are your parents so angry that people care to mention that they were both athletes? Even trying to find common ground with Glynn on anything about how media and tennis players could work together was virtually impossible. I won't print some of the words he used to describe journalists. And in some cases, he may be right, but must he take it out on all of us? Have you any idea how hard he makes it for people to appreciate your great tennis game? Or maybe you do, and maybe that's just fine with you.

It's funny. The mates you admire, such as Rod Laver and Ken Rosewall, labored in such obscurity they were begging the public — fans, sponsors, media — to come watch and learn about them. It was their efforts touring the world that paved the road for you to earn millions. But now, with an infrastructure in place, you'd rather no one know anything about you.

There's an endearing story about something you did when you were 13. You were attending Newcombe's ranch in Texas. For a school assignment, you had to write a paper about a famous person. Naturally, you asked for time with Newk. He let you interview him and learn about his life in tennis. You went off to write your paper. It's a delightful image, Lleyton, of you doing what so many of us do for a living. I'm sure you were pleased that you had the chance to inform the world about what made a great champion tick. Why won't you let the world in on your genius?

Respectfully yours,
Joel

Contributing writer Joel Drucker is author of the book Jimmy Connors Saved My Life, which is in its second printing.

This story is featured in the current issue of Tennis Week along with Richard Evans' story on the Wimbledon men's draw, Steve Flink's feature on the Wimbledon women's event and the latest installment in TW's series on player development. To subscribe to Tennis Week please click this Subscription link.