Thierry Lincou is the most improbable world champion of them all. He came from an island in the Indian Ocean which had no squash courts and might never have had any, but for an empathetic father who built one from an abandoned building.
It was intended to nourish a rare passion which had been ignited in young Thierry while on holiday abroad. It succeeded – even though the court was 10 centimetres too short – as it offered Lincou his only route from an easygoing backwater to global competition.
In the process, La Réunion, 2,512 square kilometres of paradise lying 175 kilometres south-west of Mauritius, helped shape a generous and spiritual personality in Lincou. This made it painful when his squash became so good that he had to consider leaving for France, the imperial mother country.
He needed access to knowledge, structures and training which would develop his wonderfully well-ordered style, but at the age of 14 he refused to leave. Many thought his progress would falter. He went instead at 17, which allowed him more time to gain the strength to cope with the homesickness and isolation which were constant foes.
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Lincou also travelled to Wallingford in England to play league squash, to Cairo, where his game was enriched by fine players, and to Marseille, where he trained with other improving French players and which became a second home. All this helped him become France’s first world no.1, its first world champion and one of only five men to remain in the top 10 for more than a decade.
There was another, less tangible but more profound achievement that was unique to the Lincou legacy – his effect upon the spirit of the game. He became renowned for fairness, occasionally to his own cost, and for an enduring considerateness, which he somehow managed to combine with the more selfish disciplines required of a professional player.
These qualities had, he believed, originated from La Réunion. With its relaxing culture, he described the island as “a little dream I fit into my squash bag, along with the tools of my trade”.
Later he added: “It can be difficult to treat other players as competitors and not as friends.” Many saw the relationship quite differently.
Nevertheless, Lincou focused enough on himself to win under the fiercest pressure and still have an eye for the wellbeing of others. In a sport with traffic problems not solvable by regulation alone, his attitude was not only exemplary, but also demonstrably essential.
Acquiring worldliness was often difficult for him, though. One match at the 2001 World Team Championship in Melbourne was so physical it affected him deeply. “I was disgusted – I didn’t want to play anymore,” he claimed.
Gradually he made himself understand that ugly moments do sometimes occur; gradually too he learnt to meet muscle with muscle. But he was concerned to remain true to his values, even when that was hard to achieve.
It made him enormously popular and effective as well. Lincou became the only man to save match-points in both the semi-finals and final of a World Open, and held the no.1 ranking throughout 2005. He became renowned for winning matches from behind. Along with his trademark long socks and humble sociability, it made him a distinctive presence on tour for more than a decade and a half.
He was still sometimes too nice for his own good. He could be reluctant to say no when it was needed. This happened notably on the eve of the 2003 World Open final in Lahore, when, having just sealed the no.1 ranking, he spent many late hours doing media work.
His ensuing loss to the superb Amr Shabana convinced him to learn how to refuse gracefully, an asset which helped him win the World Open in Doha the following year.
There were many other achievements. He was PSA Player of the Year in 2005, was crowned European champion twice, won 23 PSA Tour titles as well as the French national title a record 11 times, and helped nurture his compatriot, Greg Gaultier, the current world champion. Gaultier once said of Lincou that he was “forever in his debt”. So is the sport of squash.
By Peter Nicol
In my coaching I find there are so many different ways to coach the game and depending on whom I am coaching, different techniques are needed to get the best out of different players.
Saying that the swing should be the same for a 12 year old at 4’2” to a 6’4” 30 year old man is just not correct. Yes, there are core principles but so much has to be adapted to suit the individual. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the movement aspect of the game.
I want to discuss how different movement patterns have been taught and what has changed over the years...
read Peter Nicol’s Blog and view his and Thierry Lincou’s videos....
