What Clancy Taught Me About Character—in Life and in Tennis

What Clancy Taught Me About Character—in Life and in Tennis

My favourite dog—Clancy, Richard Glover’s beloved kelpie—died this week. It’s a very sad loss. But in remembering Clancy in a recent article, Glover shared something powerful about the meaning of character—not defined by achievements or appearance, but by loyalty, resilience, and quiet courage. Character, as lived by Clancy.

It got me thinking.

We too had a kelpie, called Noopy—christened by Coach Tim when he was just a toddler and couldn’t quite pronounce “Snoopy.” Noopy had all the same traits Clancy was known for: warm, loving, protective. A steady presence who watched over us and the kids without fanfare, and who—like Clancy—seemed to understand that showing up and caring deeply was its own kind of strength.

Glover wrote that in Clancy’s final year, despite a failing body and mounting ailments, Clancy never gave up. He kept going. He still made his way down the hall to guard the sleeping grandchildren. He couldn’t run anymore, but he never lost the will to be useful, to be kind, to love.

That, Glover wrote, is character.

And it struck me—how true this is in tennis, too. It’s not the perfect forehand or the glittering stats that matter most. It’s what happens when you’re under pressure. When you’re down a set, your legs are heavy, the crowd is quiet. Do you fight? Do you stay true to your game, your purpose?

Clancy couldn’t chase the ball anymore, but he still trembled with the desire to. He cared. He tried. And that simple act of trying, of staying true to who he was—that’s character.

In life and in tennis, it’s not about winning. It’s about how you play, and why you keep going.

Thank you, Clancy. And thank you, Noopy. You both taught us more than you knew.