Role Model Ivan Illustrations

 

Absolutely — here are 4 illustration moments for this chapter, each with (1) exact placement tags inside your text and (2) full, clever, sharp illustration descriptions in the same “FBTL smart/witty, not cutesy” lane.

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ILLUSTRATION 1 — “THE ‘NOT A ROLE MODEL’ COMMERCIAL, REFRAMED”

Placement: right after
“Instead, he double-dribbled down.”

Insert tag in text:
[ILLUSTRATION 1 — BARKLEY: ‘NOT A ROLE MODEL’ (BUT STILL ON THE BILLBOARD)]

Full illustration description:
A moody, high-contrast, editorial-style scene: Charles Barkley in his prime (76ers-era) framed like a Nike spot—spotlight, hardwood sheen, classic 90s attitude. But the visual gag is the set dressing: behind him is a gigantic backlit billboard that reads: “ROLE MODEL” in huge letters… and Barkley is standing directly in front of it, trying to block the word with his body like a guy hiding a stain on his shirt.
On the sideline, a parent holds up a remote like they’re trying to change the channel, but the remote has only two buttons: “MUTE” and “INFLUENCE.”
Tone is witty and pointed: the message is you can deny the label, but you can’t escape the spotlight.

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ILLUSTRATION 2 — “THE KID’S ROOM: GREATNESS AS WALLPAPER”

Placement: right after
“…bordering on the sacred.”

Insert tag in text:
[ILLUSTRATION 2 — THE POSTER WALL: ‘THEY’RE WATCHING EVEN WHEN YOU’RE NOT THERE]

Full illustration description:
A realistically drawn kid’s bedroom that looks like a shrine to sport: posters, rackets, shoes, a framed ticket stub, a favorite-player bobblehead. But the witty twist is that the posters aren’t just action shots—each poster is labeled like a museum exhibit with a small brass plaque:

• “HOW TO WIN” (a highlight photo)

• “HOW TO LOSE” (a handshake photo)

• “HOW TO BE TREATED” (a tantrum photo crossed out with a red X)

• “HOW TO TREAT OTHERS” (sportsmanship moment)
  On the desk is a notebook titled “MY GAME” and a second notebook titled “MY CONDUCT.” The second one is visibly thicker, like a joke with teeth.
  The illustration quietly says: kids absorb the whole package—skill, swagger, and behavior—whether adults like it or not.

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ILLUSTRATION 3 — “TEAM HUMANITY: WEARING THE JERSEY WHETHER WE LIKE IT”

Placement: right after
“…Team Humanity, where the rules of conduct and civility apply equally to everyone.”

Insert tag in text:
[ILLUSTRATION 3 — TEAM HUMANITY LOCKER ROOM: ‘NO ONE OPTS OUT’]

Full illustration description:
A locker room scene that feels like a satire of sports culture: lockers with nameplates that read “Parent,” “Coach,” “Player,” “Sister,” “Brother,” “Teacher,” “Teammate,” “Umpire,” “Stranger on Court 7.”
Hanging in every locker is the same jersey: TEAM HUMANITY with a big number on the back: “24/7.”
At center, a mirror on the wall has the words “YOU ARE UP NEXT” taped across it like fight-night signage. On the bench is a duffel bag labeled “LEGACY” with a zipper slightly open, showing items inside: Patience, Humility, Restraint, Integrity—like tools.
The humor comes from the inevitability: it’s drawn like a pro facility, but the “athletes” are just regular people. The point: we’re all suited up, whether we auditioned or not.

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ILLUSTRATION 4 — “THE TENNIS STORE ROLE MODEL AISLE”

Placement: right after
“Role Models in TENNIS” (and before the next paragraph)

Insert tag in text:
[ILLUSTRATION 4 — TENNIS SHOP: ‘ROLE MODELS’ AISLE (SOLD OUT OF SELF-AWARENESS)]

Full illustration description:
A sleek tennis pro shop interior. There’s a big overhead sign like a grocery aisle: “ROLE MODELS” with subcategories beneath it like product sections:

• “WIN WITH GRACE”

• “LOSE WITH CLASS”

• “COMPETE WITHOUT CRUELTY”

• “FIRE IN THE FIREPLACE”
  A line of customers shows the demand—players, parents, juniors, a coach—all waiting like it’s Black Friday.
  The witty punchline: one shelf is bare with a dangling tag that reads: “EMOTIONAL SELF-AWARENESS — TEMPORARILY OUT OF STOCK (CHECK BACK AFTER YOUR NEXT BAD CALL).”
  Near the checkout is impulse-buy candy labeled “JUSTIFICATIONS” and a small warning sign: “LIMIT 2 PER CUSTOMER.”
  Smart, not cutesy: it’s a visual metaphor for how everybody wants role models, but few want the responsibility.

 

How to conduct ourselves in the tennis world

Role Models In Society

The year was 1993. The moment, a thirty-second Nike commercial directed by Spike Lee, featuring NBA superstar Charles Barkley. Barkley was the reigning league MVP, dominating not just on the court but also the evening news, thanks to a string of embarrassing off-court incidents. A little humility and a promise to do better might have quieted his critics. But not the Chuckster. Instead, he double-dribbled down.

(possible drawing of Barkley in his 76’ers prime)

On camera, Barkley declared, “I’m not a role model. I’m not paid to be a role model. I’m paid to wreak havoc on the basketball court. Parents should be role models. Just because I dunk a basketball doesn’t mean I should raise your kids.”

Red herring aside, no sane person was asking Charles Barkley to raise their children, the commercial ignited a cultural firestorm, sparking a debate that still lingers to this day. What responsibilities do star athletes bear in society, what is reasonable to expect of our public figures, and most importantly, precisely what does it mean to be a role model?

As with most hotly debated topics, it depends on who you ask. Ask a young athletic boy, and you’ll get one answer. It’s the slam-dunks, the tape measure home runs, the cheeky tweener, and the Vamos forehand. Kids aren’t dissecting ethics quite yet, they want to emulate what dazzles them. They see greatness, and they want to channel it. Jerseys are bought, posters are hung, autographs are sought and coveted, and the rare selfie with your favorite player, the penultimate coup. The connection between the athlete and the fan, between the star and the starry-eyed, cuts deep, bordering on the sacred.

(possible drawing. Kids room w posters of fav player)

Role models aren’t strictly for kids. Ask an adult and you’ll get a far different answer. We never outgrow the desire to be better, but with our athletic glory days well behind us, adults try to model more age-appropriate behaviors. Traits like punctuality, reliability, honesty, humility, empathy, calm, understanding, discipline, traits they’ve identified in the most successful people in their orbits. Good for the goose, good for the gander. For to not possess such qualities becomes disqualifying on many levels.

So, as much as Barkley tried to absolve himself of his worst transgressions by asserting he wasn’t a role model, life doesn’t work that way. It simply means you’re a lousy one. Because, like it or not, when any athlete steps onto the stage, any stage, they’re playing for the most important team there is, Team Humanity, where the rules of conduct and civility apply equally to everyone.

(possible stage, team humanity drawing)

In fairness, Barkley was far from the first famous athlete with off-court issues. But his loud, bombastic, brash, unapologetic, impossible-to-ignore manner complicated his predicament. Try as he might, you don’t get a pass for spitting on fans, DUI arrests, gambling losses, taking money from agents in college, fights in bars, and his chef’s kiss moment, throwing a man half his size through a restaurant’s front plate-glass window.

His plea not to be seen as a role model was the ultimate air-ball, seen as entirely out of touch with the responsibilities of his public status. The truth is, as Shakespeare wrote and Rush sang… “All the world’s a stage, and we are all the players…whether the lead actor or a prop, collectively, we are humanity’s cast, with every role key to life’s well-functioning play. We’re all in the game, we’re all on life’s field. By definition, none of us gets to opt out of our influence upon others.

Barkley would in time recant his oft-ridiculed stance, realizing that If you’re in the arena of life—Parents, siblings, coaches, teachers, teammates, partners, public figures, and yes, professional athletes, we are all an influence on those around us, and with that comes great responsibility, The only choice we have is what kind of role model we want to be. How do we want to be seen? How do we want to be thought of? What will our legacy be after we’ve hit our last ball?

(role model in training shirt)

As the scripture says, “To whom much is given, much is expected.” (Luke 12:48)

We have all been given much. We all have influence over those around us. We are all role models in one way or another. The question before us is how I can become the most effective role model I can be to the greatest number?

Role Models in TENNIS

(possible drawing.. Tennis store with a Role Model section and a line out the door)

Few activities are more target-rich for finding role models than our sport of tennis. Tennis, with its global reach and generations of icons, offers the aspiring player an embarrassment of riches. Every star player’s persona is an extension of those who came before them, tennis’ version of natural selection, each era adopting the effective traits of the era before, all while adding their own personal flair. Whether it’s the style, fashion, technique, or grace of today’s professionals, or closer to home, with who first placed a racquet in your hand or the mentor at your local club who gave of his time to help you learn, role models are everywhere in tennis, the living curriculum of our sport.

From the beginning, we imitate before we innovate. It’s the tennis blockchain; everything is added onto the foundation before. The grace of Federer, the grit of Nadal, the style of Agassi, the poise of Sampras, they didn’t invent these qualities; they adopted and refined them. As students of life, we study, emulate, and then adapt, absorbing the traits we see in others that resonate deeply within ourselves, then adding our own personal spin, as a personal identity internally begins to form.

We don’t just take what we like; we adopt, refine, and make these qualities integral parts of ourselves. Traits like humility in victory, grace in defeat, determination and resiliency when facing adversity, all the coveted traits of the emotionally intelligent. Observing others manage the challenging tennis life with equanimity and class leaves a more profound impression upon us than a thousand words of advice. The magic alchemy of having a role model. Helping us change how we conduct ourselves without ever being told.

As our games develop, mentors and coaches step into that teaching role. They help model how we train, how we compete, how we respect opponents and the game, and, mostly, how to find the deeper meanings in our tennis quest beyond our oft-unspectacular results. The best mentors are not just performance-enhancing but life-enhancing, demanding excellence from us in all our affairs. ever reminding us that our results are simply that, not a referendum on our worth.

(possible drawing, coaches/mentors coaching/mentoring)

Then there are our role models on the professional tours—the players whose otherworldly athleticism and abilities, combined with their style, personality, and character, captivate us. They all have stories, many of which mirror our own, creating an instant bond. But the ones who leave the deepest mark embody something beyond their outsized talents, their tireless quest toward greatness showcasing all the qualities we hope to employ on our own personal journeys.

And then there are the true trailblazers—Billie Jean King, Arthur Ashe, Althea Gibson, Martina Navratilova, Venus and Serena Williams, whose impacts transcend the game itself. They remind us that success on the court carries enormous responsibility: to use our platform for something far greater than ourselves.

(possible drawing of any of these icons)

Role models, in this sense, become emotional mirrors. They help us envision the kind of competitor, and person, we aspire to be. Great players do not possess a monopoly on life-affirming attributes. So though we may never be able to play like them, we can carry ourselves like them. And that’s the beauty of understanding emotional intelligence. It’s freely available to us all.

Which leads to the most crucial point of FBTL’s Role Model series. Whether you are on center court or a back court, we are all role models to someone. You just never know who’s watching you, what someone else might be going through, or how much your example might mean to them. My father once told me a story about Rod Laver calling his own ball out in the middle of a match, an example of fairness and integrity that far exceeded the outcome of a single point. Laver was an ambassador of tennis, insisting it be played and competed in the fairest, most gentlemanly of ways. Compare that to today’s headlines, where we see players consistently pushing the boundaries of morality and fairness to get ahead. Laver wanted nothing that wasn’t rightfully his. That was his gold standard, one we would all benefit from emulating ourselves.

As a coach of 40 years, I ask every new student I meet who their favorite player is. For the longest time, it was the usual suspects. Federer and Nadal, Williams and Graf. Lately, though, especially when I ask my younger boys, the answer has been almost unanimous: Nick Kyrgios. That tells you a lot about the power of personality, flawed or not, in connecting with others. Role models don’t have to be perfect; they have to be real.

I used to take my students to Indian Wells every year. I’d send them out, tell them to sit on a practice court, find a player who resonates with you, someone you’d like to not just play like but be like, and ask them for a picture. And one of my younger favorites came back with this picture.

trying to find this picture..its awesome 11 year old Sebastian and 7 foot( Karlovic)

Asking him later what he liked most about Dr Ivo, he replied I want to be 7 feet tall and serve bombs!!

Ah, Don’t we all…

Tennis will always have its share of drama and controversy, on and off the court. It’s tough out there. But the beauty of having role models is choice. You can have as many or as few as you like, no lifetime contracts required, no role model requests need be accepted. You can bench them, forgive them, give them time-outs, or simply outgrow them. After all, every player is one bad decision away from losing the public’s trust.

In our current times, there’s been an explosion of Social Media influencers whose outsized influence is measured by their number of followers. Strong Role Models don’t roll like that; they influence via attraction, not promotion. Role models lead by example, emphasizing principles over popularity. Because in the end, the most accurate measure of a role model isn’t their resume—it’s the lasting effect they, and we, as we become role models ourselves, have upon others.

Personal Experience with Role Models

Growing up, as with most young athletic boys, my first role model was Father. He was the funniest, could do everything, was the best at everything, and he knew everything. Big shoes to fill, but wanting to model myself just like him became my first life quest. Yet my Dad was complicated. He had a dark side, moody, angry, temperamental, all performed with a warm Guinness Stout in one hand and a Salem Menthol in the other. Not exactly the behavior an impressionable youth should model.

As I would learn later in life, Dad had his demons, too. But as a young child, all I wanted in life was to be like him. So, kids being kids, try I did. I can laugh about this now, but by age 10, I had a beer bottle collection that took up half my room. And if that wasn’t weird enough, my Dad encouraged it, bringing back random regional beers from his various travels. Needless to say, my modeling of Dad’s obsession with beer wasn’t going to end well, and I have the rehab bills from my adulthood to prove it.

My Dad had numerous passions: chess, math, hockey, literature, but only one true love, and that love was tennis, and he was determined to make it mine, too. A depression era kid, the opportunities to pursue his athletic dreams were never realized. Still, he held out hope that if he ever were to have an athletic child, he would invest everything he had in making him a professional athlete, and as fate would have it, I happened to be that kid.

It was the 1970’s, the great Tennis Boom was in full swing. Learning tennis back then wasn’t easy, but if you had a parent with a love of the game who knew just enough about tennis to be dangerous, you could at least get started, and that was us.

Flying blind, my Dad figured the way to play was to emulate the best players in the world, and at that time, there was a brash Midwest American youngster named Jimmy Connors dominating the tour. The plan was simple: Take the ball early, hit it hard, flat, and deep, and compete as if your life depended on winning, and one would become pretty tough to beat. It was working for Connors, it should work for me, and that’s how Jimmy Connors became my first role model, even down to the haircut.

(pic of Connors and myself with same hair)

Playing style aside, what worked for Connors as an experienced tour professional was going to take some time to refine for my developing 11-year-old self. His seeming high-risk, high-reward style was all fine and dandy in practice, but when matches got tight, it was not so easy. Feeling nervous, I would revert to my safer, pushy style of play, resulting in mixed results and firm disapproval from my Dad. His decree was pretty straightforward; If he was to invest his scarce time in my tennis development, I had to play his way or else.

But emotionally, I simply couldn’t. My nervousness would cause my brain/body connection to short-circuit. I became petrified of losing and, even worse, how I was treated for losing. So I developed a new set of role models. With all that chaos swirling around my head, I vividly remember being in awe of the kids who could keep their emotions under control on the court. How was it possible to play freely and confidently and joyously (and quietly!)? Were they not as crazed emotionally as I was when matches got tight? And if not, what were they doing differently than my temperamental self? I had to learn what they were doing differently and how they were doing it.

Off the court, I would watch the family dynamics of my competitive peers, so confused by how their parents supported and loved them unconditionally, win, lose, or push, for that was so not my experience. What I would have given for a support system like that. And though I was young and not entirely in sync with the workings of the world around me, those examples were among my first lessons in what constituted emotional intelligence and the powerful influence of observing others on me.

As an older adult, when I was in the battle for my life in the rooms of alcoholism recovery, I discovered a different kind of role model entirely. My peers there weren’t top-ranked tennis players playing for cash and prizes. They were survivors, men and women committed to the transformative process of healing themselves, who taught me that real strength didn’t lie in dominating an opponent but in surrendering to one of the toughest opponents known to man, the scourge of alcoholism. Real strength was having the courage to admit you were defeated and to finally ask for help, acts so antithetical to my hyper-competitive, self-reliant tennis upbringing. My new role models in recovery showed me how to rebuild a shattered life, and I owe my existence today to these anonymous heroes.

(possible picture of person speaking at a podium to attentive audience)

Inspired by them, I set out to become like them. And work it did. I’ve watched countless people rebuild their lives from ashes, not because they were extraordinary, but because they were honest, humble, and willing to change. They modeled the kind of emotional self-awareness and compassion I needed to change, something that, when you’re hardwired toward intense competitiveness, I resisted to the point of insanity.

All these experiences, my upbringing, my tennis life, and my experience in the rooms of recovery, forged the foundation of my work today. Emotional intelligence isn’t a luxury in tennis or in recovery — it’s a necessity. It’s what keeps us coming back, to keep working at it til it works.

Here at FBTL, we strive to model ourselves in the spirit of our Ideal Player. We want to approach Role models as mirrors. They don’t give us a blueprint to copy; they help us recognize traits already within us; the sparks of passion, hope, gratitude, and humility waiting to be ignited and expressed. The best role models teach us that our grandest goals in life do not end at a destination, but exist as daily practices that empower us, all the while becoming the most positive influence we can be to others.

Today, through First Ball To Last, I try to carry these values forward —to be the kind of role model I once needed. My mission isn’t to tell you who to be or how to be, but to help you discover who you already are, and to encourage us to look upon our role models, in tennis and life, with the most tremendous appreciation.