I met Hashim
Khan only once. It was during a PSA tournament in Denver back in the 90’s. I
had traveled from Europe and it was my first experience being involved in an
American professional event at a massive private club - the Denver Athletic
Club.
The
difference in hospitality between playing a tournament in Europe and playing
one in the States was colossal. Red carpet treatment appeared to be the norm.
Players were revered by the general membership who were genuinely excited to
come out not only to watch you play but spend time with you and show off their
club, city, tourist attractions, houses, cars, brothers, sisters... just like a
young toddler showing off for their parents for approval. It was awesome.
It was here
that I also witnessed hardball doubles for the first time. The Denver Athletic
Club was running an amateur event with the pros. Up to that point, hardball
doubles was only a folkloric game to me - an American I had met a few years
earlier in Australia attempted to explain it. We couldn’t understand why the
Americans played a different version of squash. At that time, Mark Talbott was
their Jahangir Khan. “Mark who?”
we asked.
As I watched
my first doubles match, I remember seeing 2 very old guys warming up. Once they
were done, a much younger pair took to the court to complete their warm up.
Surely the old guys weren’t expected to compete against these two? They didn’t
stand a chance. Nonetheless, the 2 old guys walked back on 5 minutes later and
the racquet was spun for the first serve. I was about to behold a train wreck.
Not
understanding the first thing about the tactics of the game, I couldn’t figure
out how the old guys were doing it. One in particular. Every time this one guy
would hit it, the rally would either end immediately, or shortly thereafter.
And it wasn’t because it was an error. He hardly ran, didn’t hit it very hard, and
had a partner who seemed to have enough ability to keep the rally going long
enough for the ball to eventually come to him. The size of the court was made
to look gargantuan to the younger, flailing opponents as the ball found weird
angles and spins I had never thought feasible.
As I was
watching, a local member walked up to me and asked if I knew who the old guy
was.
“No”, I said.
“That’s
Hashim Khan. He’s in his 80’s”.
Holy shit. I
was in the presence of squash royalty, watching the legend himself play and
kick butt!
After his
victory, I was introduced to him briefly, shook his hand. I was simply another
squash player bug-eyed to meet him, he was as humble as a 5 foot 4 inch Goliath
could be.
Hashim Khan
died on Monday, August 19, aged approximately 100. (No one is sure of his exact
age, but it estimated between 100 and 104.) He won his first British Open at
age 37 (estimated) and went on to win the following 6. He was renowned for his
uncanny ball control - something I was fascinated by when I watched him play
that doubles match - and for his straight forward, no nonsense, common sense
coaching tips. “Keep eye on ball” being his most famous. Other little tidbits
of genius include these excerpts from a 1962 Sports Illustrated interview -
advice that hold true today:
“When
opponent likes fast game, Hashim plays slow; when opponent likes slow, Hashim
plays fast. Against big man, Hashim makes him stoop to floor with low shots.
Against tennis player used to open court, Hashim hits ball all the time very
close to wall.”
“Against
player wearing glasses, Hashim gives many high shots, which he has difficulty
seeing because of light overhead. When Hashim teaches, he emphasizes thinking.”
The squash
world lost a deity. I know that some of you (DAC members) also met Hashim when
he used to live and coach in Detroit and certainly would have some stories to
tell - as the photo would indicate. Raise a glass to him. Be happy and thankful
that we had the chance to cross his path.
N.B. Two years ago I posted some writings from Hashim Khan from some documents he wrote. You
can see them here: The Hashim Files