Wheelchair tennis a game of tactics
To compete at elite level, Canada’s Joel Dembe needs to think one step ahead
Amultitude of tasks must be co-ordinated simultaneously in wheelchair tennis for an athlete to have a remote chance at success.
Anticipation is huge. A player has to read the ball coming off an opponent’s racquet, push the chair on a regulation-sized court quickly enough to be positioned for a return all while not only holding a racquet but also adjusting grip to place the ball perfectly on the other side of the net.
“That’s just the basics; rinse, repeat, do it over and over again,” says Joel Dembe who will go into the Parapan Am tennis competition as the men’s No. 5 seed in a field of 24 entrants.
“When you get to the elite level, the level of the Parapan Am Games, you’re assuming you’re going to get to the next ball. So you’re thinking about what it takes to beat an opponent. You look at an opponent’s weaknesses and expose those weaknesses. You have to come in with a game plan. Tactics are huge.”
Name an athletic endeavour — track and field, sledge hockey, baseball, golf — and Dembe has probably tried it. But even after almost two decades in tennis, the 31-year-old still finds it more challenging than any of the others.
“It has the hardest learning curve out of any sport; you’re just doing so many things at once,” he says. “It took, literally, a few years before I could figure out how to maintain a rally.”
Dembe’s sport is almost identical to stand up tennis except players are allowed two bounces instead of one; though the way wheelchair tennis has evolved since it was invented in 1976, players often don’t need that additional bounce. Dembe, who grew up Hamilton and now resides in Toronto, was born with a benign tumour at the base of his spine. When it was removed, it led to partial paralysis below the waist. But he refused to let that get in the way of his passion for sports as either a fan — he loves the Blue Jays — or as a participant. Dembe took up tennis at 14.
“I think most people probably hadn’t even heard about wheelchair tennis when I picked it up,” he recalls. “I think it was such a mindblowing thing to see a kid in a wheelchair, playing with able-bodied friends in the neighbourhood. Just to be able to be there on the same court with them I think was a victory.”
Dembe would go on to be the three- time Canadian champion and he was in the final of the Canadian nationals for four consecutive years coming into 2015. He shot to the top in Canada after leaving his job as a marketing analyst for TD Bank and devoting himself full-time to tennis.
He was 17th at the London Paralympics and is presently ranked 44th in the world, though he did get as high as 29th in 2013.
He has been known to beat standup players and he has been training for the last five years with the York University tennis team.
“I can manipulate the ball in a way that tricks my opponents,” he says. “I wouldn’t say I have a big power game. I don’t have a big powerful serve. I’d say my return of serves are much better than my serves but I can out- wit my opponents during a rally.”
“I can lob them, I can spin them. And I like playing long rallies. I think I have the endurance most of the time to maintain a more consistent approach than my opponents do.”
There is a wheelchair tennis tour on which Dembe plays that is similar to the ATP Tour, though the prize money is only fraction of what a Nadal or Federer might take home. The winner of a wheelchair Grand Slam earns about $30,000 while top prize in a smaller tourney might be less that $1,000. Only the world’s top eight players are invited to the Grand Slams. There hasn’t been a Canadian or American at one in more than 10 years.
“Basically, you’re fighting to cover your expenses,” he says. “It’s still very much an amateur sport.”
Dembe, who teams with Philippe Bedard in doubles, is coming off recent tour wins in Sacramento and Kamloops, which gives him some momentum going in the Parapan Ams.
“For me, growing up with a disability my entire life, wheelchair tennis was sort of the equalizer, something that I could do and do with others,” he says. “I would forget that I was in wheelchair and I’d just be competing. That’s the great thing about wheelchair sports. You’re not looking at your opponent across the net and feeling sorry for them because they’re in a wheelchair. You want to beat the hell out of them. You forget you are in a wheelchair. You just are doing what you can to win the point.”