June 22, 2003

Different strokes

James Blake may hit the books as hard as the ball, but that doesn't mean this young, gifted, half-black Harvard-educated heartthrob isn't the future of tennis.

By Melanie D.G. Kaplan

When James Blake was a high school freshman in Connecticut, he was invited to join the wrestling team. Blake, who had never wrestled -- except when his older brother, Tom, sat on him -- had to gain 10 pounds to make weight. He didn't win a match (other than by forfeit) until the last tournament of the season. At the awards banquet, he was presented with an ordinary household light bulb, given to the wrestler who spent the most time looking at the ceiling.

"It was one year, and that was enough," Blake says, laughing. "It was good for me, though. It got me in shape and definitely humbled me a bit."

Today, Blake is winning more than light bulbs. The 23-year-old with mussy dreadlocks and a wicked forehand is ranked in the top 30 on the ATP tour, having earned $1.2 million since he turned pro in 1999. Coming into Wimbledon on Monday, he has an 8-3 Davis Cup record and has been charged, along with the other young guns on the tour, with keeping American tennis off its deathbed following the Agassi-Sampras era.

At a time when the tennis world is looking for a new ace, Blake is a godsend, with his solid game, model good looks and deep reserves of confidence. His appeal crosses all demographics, and glossy photo spreads of the star -- named Sexiest Athlete last year by "People" magazine -- are as commonplace as his appearances in Nike ads. Often, he is compared to his role model, Arthur Ashe, known as the ultimate gentleman of the game. Ashe's message to kids was "Stay in school," and Blake, who grew up in a home where education trumped all, says his is the same. He was raised in Yonkers, N.Y., and Fairfield, Conn., by Thomas, a 3M salesman, and Betty, who studied English lit. The Blakes played spelling and math games with their two sons on car trips and paid the boys $25 for every 100 books they read.

The comparisons to Ashe began at the 2001 U.S. Open, after Blake responded with poise and grace to a remark made by his opponent, Australia's Lleyton Hewitt. When a black linesman called Hewitt for two foot faults, Hewitt pointed out the similarity in color between Blake and the official, implying race had influenced the call. Blake later surprised everyone by accepting Hewitt's apology.

Blake, whose father is black and mother is white, resists identifying himself as one or the other. "I think it's silly for people to worry that much about something that, to me, makes no difference," he says.

Blake spent his childhood playing tennis at the Harlem Tennis Center, which was mostly black, and in Fairfield, which is mostly white, and he moves easily among both groups. Still, he knows his skin color does make a difference when it comes to inspiring kids. "I understand there are kids that look up to me because, obviously, I look different than a lot of tennis players," Blake says. "They see someone who looks like them or has hair like them, and maybe they'll watch tennis just for that reason, which means I'm bringing in new fans. I want to show kids it's a way of staying in shape, having a great time, possibly opening doors. It's opened so many doors for me."

But the dating door is one that Blake has chosen not to open right now. He doesn't want anything, including a girlfriend watching from the stands, to get in the way of his tennis. His social time is spent with a tight-knit group of young players, including Andy Roddick, Mardy Fish, Robby Ginepri, Taylor Dent and Jeff Morrison, who, unlike those in other tour generations, seem to spend as much time hanging out together as they do on opposite sides of the net. They compete, support each other and plan practical jokes: The pie in Todd Martin's face during an ESPN interview in Paris is a favorite of Blake's. He says the camaraderie makes tennis a less lonely sport during those long stretches away from home.

When he's not on the road, Blake is headquartered in Tampa, where he and his brother, who also plays on the tour, bought a house. Blake is one of only two current top-50 players to have attended college. He spent two years at Harvard and became the school's first freshman All-American. In 1999 he ended his sophomore season the top collegiate player, with a singles record of 78-9. It was a different story two years into his pro career, when Blake's ATP match record was 1-8. The experience taught the hot-tempered perfectionist to be a better loser. But even now that he's winning more, he still goes to the locker room and fumes after losses.

Patrick McEnroe, the U.S. Davis Cup captain, says Blake beats himself up sometimes and, like other intelligent athletes, tends to think too much on the court. Yet in defeating players such as Agassi and Carlos Moya, Blake has learned that sometimes even the top-ranked pros can have an off day.

On a glorious April morning, a white 2003 Jaguar S-Type pulls up to the Hotel Derek, a swank spot in Houston with temporary "D" tattoos in its guest rooms. Blake exits the hotel three minutes late and, apologizing for his tardiness, loads his Nike bag into the trunk. Eleven hours earlier, he had flown into town, unshaven, tired and clutching a paperback copy of "The Diary of Anne Frank", the latest in a string of books he's devoured. He finds a hip-hop station on the radio (he's a huge Eminem fan) as we drive to River Oaks Country Club, which is hosting an exhibition tournament. It's not an ATP event and won't affect his points and rank, so it's a chance for Blake to work on his fitness and get mentally prepared for upcoming Grand Slam tournaments.

"Before," he says, "I was a little too quick to go to Plan B. If your best game isn't working, you gotta change it up. But I gotta play my game first."