A Racquet Coach with Jurisdiction Over Two Courts

Dave Fish, coach of the men's tennis and squash teams, is a product of the Harvard system.

A Harvard graduate himself, Fish once played on both of the teams he now coaches. He vividly remembers when the Palmer Dixon Courts were just a twinkle in a rich alumnus's eve. As a player he learned first hand the teachings of the legendary racquet master Jack Barnaby. Because he's been there. Fish understands better than most the unique triumphs and traumas of the Harvard athlete.

"I'm intensely interested in winning, but that's not the real thrust of Harvard athletics," says Fish at home in his office strewn with video camera equipment and books on biomechanics.

After a careful pause, he adds. "The value of competition is improvement--it's in getting my players to push themselves to find out what discipline is all about."

In college Fish, a psychology major, concentrated on becoming a doctor. But during his two-year stint as assistant coach under Barnaby, Fish realized. "I'd probably be better off doing something I was good at rather than socially noble--I'd probably help more people in the long run."

Admitting he felt pressure when he stepped into the national-championship-size-shoes after Barnaby's retirement in 1976, Fish said. "My game plan was to let both teams sink to the botton right away, and then begin to re-build."

According to the game plan, both teams have made impressive progress since Fish's first season as head coach. His squash squad captured the six-man national championship this winter while this tennis team is currently undefeated in league play and headed for the first Ivy title since 1966--just a few of the honors earned over the last few years.

"Because I played for both teams, I feel a personal pride and loyalty to both teams that goes beyond professional commitment," said Fish.

But this attitude has been the source of some difficulties for Fish--as the seasons of both sports grow longer, schedules gain intensity and players become more specialized. Unlike when Fish played, the athlete who participates in both sports is becoming increasingly rare.

"I appreciate the extended knowledge I gain from coaching two sports, but as the programs improve, the students expect more and demand more--sometimes I feel I've created a hydra--slash one problem off and another two appear," laughs Fish.

The athletes, too, are aware of the drawbacks, but as squash player John Dineen said. "Sure there's problems, but he does a superb job with each team when he's with them. Not many could do it like he does."

Regardless of the frustrations that accompany being stuck in traffic between Palmer Dixon and Hemingway, or missing practice with one team so that he can attend a pre-season match with the other. Fish admits he has "a compelling, no, a consuming interest in finding out about everything related to both sports."

By studying video tapes, reading books and talking to experts. Fish attacks the acquisition of sports knowledge with the same intensity as an idealistic graduate student working on his dissertation. That's not surprising, since it's the educational aspect of coaching that attracts Fish most.

"Technically he's unrivaled," praises squash player Mitch Reese. A statement that tennis player Don Pompan agrees with wholeheartedly.

The belief in Fish's ability to take a player and, through racquet work, allow him to excel further than would be possible elsewhere is also echoed down the line of both squads.

"The players at Harvard are much more open to learning, than players at most scholarship schools," explains Fish. "At top-level colleges you often just go with what the players come with. Coaches often become babysitters catering to the players," he adds.

Yet Fish is well aware of a lid to athletic achievement that accompanies a school like Harvard. "With tennis especially it is always frustrating. It is conceivable that Harvard could be in the top ten, but beyond that, one must sacrifice being a student--and that's not what it's all about."

The oft-trumpeted "Harvard athletic philosophy" is about as easy to define as it is for an alchemist to turn base metals into gold. But if you keep your eyes wide open, hints of it are evident in people like Dave Fish--someone who doesn't just preach the "Harvard philosophy" to his athletes, but is a walking, talking, and most importantly thinking example of it.