The Download

I guess it's official: Andy Murray and Brad Gilbert have parted. I was asked about the rumor (now reality) in my ESPN chat today, and I want to cover some of the same territory in this post.

This split is far less surprising to me than the fact that Murray and Gilbert worked together in the first place, and one of the things I'm left wondering is whether it wasn't the British LTA that forced the move. Perhaps they got tired of footing Gilbert's hefty salary, now that Murray is making the big money, and Murray had to decide whether to swallow the cost himself, or move on. I'll try to find that out.

I always thought the cross-cultural and cross-personality issues in this relationship were glaring. So my reaction now my surprise you. I think it was a great and fruitful partnership. Fruitful, for the obvious reasons. Despite being frequently injury and rarely in match-tough shape, Murray not only managed to improve his status, he came very close to qualifying for the year-end championships and is now positioned - despite his various woes - as a legitimate Grand Slam contender next year. And the relationship was great precisely because it ran its course; nobody can accuse Gilbert of having  been a Svengali-like figure, exploiting Murray's youth or capitalizing on his emotional need to have some sort of father or authority figure in his corner.

Coaching is a two-phase business. The first phase is The Download. This is the period when a coach imparts what wisdom he has about execution, strategy, fitness, priorities and career-management. The hourglass appears on the player's screen immediately, and the Download goes on for six months, eight months, a year, but seldom much longer. In phase 2, the coach and player attempt to build a solid emotional relationship; if they connect, the relationship flourishes (or becomes habitual, sometimes to the detriment of both player and coach). If phase 2 is successful, it takes a lot more than the ebb and flow of a player's results to destroy the partnership.

It seems that Gilbert and Murray failed at Phase 2, which is the less important phase: Murray has The Download, and he's not going to forget any useful part of it. It's nice to see Phase 2 work out, but it isn't essential. One of the reasons I think it may have failed for them is because I don't think Murray needs the kind of emotional support that often helps drive Phase 2 of a coaching relationship.

If  you read the BBC report linked above, you'll see that Murray is talking about putting together a "team" of experts, presumably each with a narrow focus on some aspect of the game. This can be read as  a statement of independence and control. Murray is a smart, mature, opinionated kid with a strong mind. He doesn't seem as emotionally open as an Andre Agassi, or as gregarious and tuned in to Gilbert's strikingly American mores as was the other Andy (Roddick). How could you not see this coming?

This bit about Louis Cayer, a Canadian doubles coach, heading Murray's list of coaching candidates is, interesting and amusing. According to the BBC report, Cayer "works on patterns on the tennis court, that sort of thinking Andy relates a lot to." Whatever the hail that means.

At the risk of sounding like a smart alec, I'm going to suggest that if Murray hasn't grasped all there is to know about  "patterns on a tennis court", he sure as heck has been fooling me. With all due respect to Mr. Cayer, who coaches Andy's older brother, doubles specialist Jamie, I don't think that learning more about patterns is going to win Murray a Grand Slam title. What will do it is the kind of focus, tactical shrewdness, and outright bravado that Gilbert has imparted to his former proteges. But all that was in The Download, so on we go.

I have to admit, I have a soft spot for Gilbert. Despite the Sergeant Rock jaw (which Gilbert keeps in top shape the old fashioned way, through lots of practice), the Raider-black gear, that brave and guileful game and the hipster lingo, Brad at heart is a sports geek. He rubs many people the wrong way, but that's okay, too. He has never begged to be understood, or beloved. In a way that is more meaningful than you might expect, Gilbert is what he is. He has made champions. That Murray cut him loose before becoming one himself is an interesting  and noteworthy fact to file away.

Coach-player relationships are often compared to romantic ones, but I think that's a mistake. In affairs of the heart, the love usually comes first, the realism, and perhaps even disillusion, later. In tennis, the realism comes first and the love - if it develops at all -  later. Murray and Gilbert never got there, it wasn't anyone's fault. Tennis players are very forward looking people; don't ever expect them to express regrets about the decisions they take. So if any of you are hoping that Murray gets his comeuppance (which I doubt, because Gilbert isn't exactly Mr. Popularity at TW), don't waste your time.

One of the reasons I always liked Brad is because he is naturally and genuinely media-friendly. He's the kind of coach who will gladly help a trusted reporter get together with a player (he did that for me, with Murray, last December), and he's always been a good companion, picking your brain as well as unloading his own in any given conversation.

During that December visit to Nick Bollettieri's iIMG Tennis Academy, where Murray was training, Brad provided an anecdote that has since become my quintessential Brad Gilbert Moment. While we were hanging around the condo, talking about, well, everything (that's how Brad is), he suddenly asked: "You know what I love to do, most of all?"

The look in his eyes suggested a confession and, for a moment, I dreaded that I was about to be given too much information. But I shrugged and said, "What?"

Brad then explained that what he most loved to do on a fine summer afternoon was  dig out a portable radio with headphones, and plop down in the big Lazy-Boy in his den at home in California. He then tuned in the Oakland A's baseball game, hit the recline bar, and lay back, under the headphones, to listen to the radio broadcast of the game, visualizing each play as the announcers described it.

And that was it. This was Brad's version of snowboarding the Lhotse face of Mt. Everest, drinking champagne in a hot tub with a bevy of Victoria's Secret models, or going on a photo safari in a South African game park. Lay back in a Lazy-Boy and listen to an A's game, imagining the action on the field. Given Gilbert's fidgety, garrulous nature, this was both a surprising and delightful piece of intel. I just love it when people prove less rather than more predictable.

I don't know what's next in store for Brad, but I have this theory: When Nick Bollettieri eventually retires from the academy, Brad Gilbert will take it over. It will be the perfect job for him, too. You heard it here first.