I first encountered Tom Rodriguez on a brisk April afternoon, when winter had only just released Milwaukee from its clutches. I’d arrived at Lake Park on the East Side to meet my tennis partner for our first outing of the season. From the parking lot, the courts looked empty. But as I approached the fence I could make out a lone figure, a racket in each hand, rallying against a wooden wall. It would be nearly a year before I even knew his name.
At the time, I didn’t know a thing about him; I thought he was just a guy who wanted to hit some tennis balls during his lunch break. One thing was clear right away, though: he was old-school. Most of his equipment was manufactured by Prince, a tennis brand that rose to ubiquity in the ’80s and ’90s but whose rackets are now relegated to second-hand stores and long-forgotten storage bins. His movements were fluid and assured. The ball hit the center of his strings on every shot without fail. He was no amateur.
After I laced up my shoes, I walked over to ask if he’d like to warm up together as I waited for my partner to arrive. As I grew near, I met the gaze of a short man with kind eyes and a perpetual smile, whose age I couldn’t really discern; my only clue was the peppered hair peeking out from under the flaps of his cap. He explained in a hurried, excited voice that he was waiting on a student to arrive for a lesson. He spoke so quickly that I wasn’t sure whether he’d accepted or declined my offer. When he returned to his ambidextrous exercise, I had my answer.
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Eventually, my friend arrived and we got to it. But as we were playing I couldn’t help but periodically glance at the next court over, where Rodriguez was, indeed, giving a lesson to a young girl as her mom watched on. At first, the lesson looked pretty run-of-the-mill: demos, drills, advice, repeat. But then he left the court and returned with a duffel bag so large that he had to drag it along the ground. He pulled out various rackets and practice balls, but also things I’d never seen used during a tennis lesson: hammers, paint rollers, hula-hoops. Bewildered, I let my partner’s shot go by me as I watched how he would incorporate these items he seemingly grabbed from his garage into a tennis lesson.
The hammer was used to showcase proper grip; the paint roller to demonstrate the mechanics of topspin; and the hula-hoop to practice hip rotation. It was brilliantly unorthodox: these everyday objects were achieving much of the same results as the thousand-dollar equipment stocked by private tennis clubs. More importantly, the little girl was loving every moment, squealing as her coach tried and failed to keep the hoop swinging around his waist.
That spring, I encountered “the coach,” as I called him, on a near-weekly basis, giving lessons to one, two, sometimes as many as five people at once on the Lake Park tennis courts. On more than one occasion, I saw him circling the park, asking kids and parents if they’d like a tennis lesson. He had more takers than you’d think.
In his lessons, he always had some household item or homemade contraption to help teach technique, footwork and even strategy. Sometimes, when we were positioned on adjacent courts, he’d throw me a compliment – “nice forehand!” – or unsolicited (but very much appreciated) advice – “don’t swing at your volleys!”
Our relationship – friendly acquaintances, nothing more – went on like this for several months, until I had the opportunity to formally introduce myself during one of the rare breaks between his lessons. He told me his name was Tom and that he’d been teaching tennis in some capacity for most of his life. I had a million questions for him – did you ever play competitively? do you have a tennis business of some sort? where’d you get so many hammers? – but he had to rush off. Thankfully, he would answer these questions and more when we spoke a few weeks later at Cudahy High School, where he coaches the boys varsity tennis team.
Practice was about halfway through when I arrived. Rodriguez was showing his players a serving exercise to help with their technique and consistency. They hung on his every word, which, truth to be told, they had to: if you zone out for even a second while Rodriguez is speaking, you’ll miss entire swaths of information. Yes, he really talks that fast. But what I’ve learned is that he speaks so quickly because he has a lot to say: he’s been steeped in the game of tennis for nearly five decades, picking up bits of wisdom all the while.
Rodriguez’s coaching journey began right after high school, in 1979, when he got certified to teach private and group lessons at a tennis club in Illinois. From there, he played college tennis at Olivet Nazarene University as their top singles player.
For the next 15 years, though, tennis came into Rodriguez’s life sporadically. After earning his bachelor’s degree, he attended seminary in Kansas City before moving to Wisconsin in 1992 to lead a small church in South Milwaukee. He got married and started a family: three boys and three girls. Tennis went on the back-burner, presenting itself only as his familial and professional obligations allowed. But when his eldest son expressed an interest in the sport when he got to high school, Rodriguez’s tennis renaissance began.
He pulled out old rackets from storage (He tells me he has between 200 and 300 rackets in his personal collection) and started teaching his son the game he spent so many years immersed in. “That was an exciting moment,” he said. “I’d forgotten how much joy I get from bringing the game of tennis to others, whether it’s my family or a complete stranger.”
With his son’s burgeoning interest in tennis as a catalyst, Rodriguez started playing in a league and teaching again at a club in Racine. Before long, however, he grew frustrated by the one-size-fits-all coaching method adopted by most modern tennis professionals. “They’re telling everyone to hit a forehand the exact same way. Same grip, same swing. They don’t account for the individuality of the player.”
Instead, he prefers to meet his students where they are. In most cases, they’re beginners, some of whom have never even picked up a tennis racket before. No matter their level, he always emphasizes what he calls “the good ‘F’ words”: find, feel, followthrough and, most importantly, fun. “It’s not like we’re competing at Wimbledon,” he said. “If we aren’t having fun, what’s the point?”
Rodriguez has been following this community-focused, fun-comes-first approach for more than twenty years. On top of offering lessons to anyone and everyone at several of Milwaukee’s public parks, he also facilitates tennis programming at a majority-Black daycare, teaching the sport to a population of children often neglected by the tennis apparatus.
“It’s not like we’re competing at Wimbledon. If we aren’t having fun, what’s the point?”
– Tom Rodriguez
Rodriguez estimates that he’s given thousands of tennis lessons, to individuals and groups, since moving to the Milwaukee area.
Toward the end of our interview, he told me he’d be right back. He ran to his car and returned with a scrapbook stuffed so full that it refused to close. “Most of my tennis identity is in here,” he said.
As I thumbed through, I saw old pictures, newspaper clippings, certificates and awards dating back to the early ’70s. What stood out the most were three photos of a 20-something Rodriguez posing with his former coach at the Van der Meer Tennis Academy. There, he learned to teach tennis professionally from the eponymous Dennis Van der Meer himself, a Hall of Fame player who’s often referred to in the tennis world as the “teacher of teachers.” Most aspiring tennis players attend academies in an attempt to eventually play at the tour level – to make a career out of competing – but Tom was much more concerned about growing the game of tennis. He’s still that way.
“Whenever I give a lesson, I try to teach my students how they can teach a friend or family member how to play. And then that friend can teach another friend. Tennis is better when more people are out there playing.”
When I asked him about Milwaukee’s tennis community specifically, he said that it’s friendly and tight-knit, but it’s just not big enough. Young people, especially, he said, tend to gravitate toward other sports.
“People think tennis is elitist and expensive. I try to show them that all you need is a racket, a friend and a place to play. Plus, some clubs will charge $100 an hour for a lesson. I only charge what people can afford. We agree on a price together.”
When I tried handing his scrapbook, he told me to keep it. “I’ll get it back from you at our next chance encounter,” he said.
I was reluctant to take something so sentimental, but I knew I’d see him soon enough, sharing the sport of tennis with someone at a thousand words a minute.
