Yannick Noah’s evolving, enduring superstar

“When I lost tennis matches, I told people I was a singer,” he said.

He traveled back and forth between Europe and the United States, appearing in the stands at basketball games as he watched his son, Joakim, become a college and NBA star. Noah may not be much close to Roland Garros this year, but Joakim was often in the player box of Frances Tiafoe, an American who is the son of African immigrants and is one of the tour’s few high-ranking black players.

Noah now spends much of his time in Cameroon. In the photo attached to his mobile number, he stands in front of a turquoise sea, sipping through a straw from a full martini glass, peering out from under the brim of a baseball cap.

The dark dreadlocks are gone, replaced by neat and appropriate thinning salt-and-pepper hair. There are lines across his forehead and bags under his eyes. But the gaping smile, the soft voice, his “there’s-more-to-life-than-tennis” ethos, and that combination of swagger and approachability, it’s all still there. In the middle of the concert, he circled the stadium, singing into the microphone with one hand, high-fiving and hugging the crowd with the other.

The growing distance between the public and tennis players worries him, he said, especially when social media is supposed to bring them closer to the fans. He has little use for the game’s code of conduct, which he says suffocates players and prevents them from showing emotions on the field.

Those emotional outbursts from McEnroe and Jimmy Connors, and occasionally even Noah, once helped lure the casual sports fan to an elite game. Emotions are also at the heart of the sport, he said. Ask the players he coached to the Davis Cup title he talked to them about, he said. He rarely mentioned tennis, only emotions.