The Enduring Impact of John Wilkerson’s 50-Year Coaching Career
Black History Month traces its roots to 1926, when historian Dr. Carter G. Woodson launched Negro History Week to ensure that the achievements and experiences of Black Americans were studied and understood. His belief was straightforward: understanding history shapes identity and opportunity.
In tennis, the same principle is evident in John Wilkerson’s 50-year coaching career. Working primarily out of Houston’s MacGregor Park, Wilkerson created an environment where young players, many experiencing the sport for the first time, could see a place for themselves, develop confidence and learn lessons that extended well beyond the court.
For coaches at every level, Wilkerson’s legacy is not defined solely by the star players who emerged from his program. It’s defined by how he built belief, community and access over decades, often with limited resources, and by how those values continue to shape the coaches, players and leaders who followed.
The Invitation That Changed Everything
Ask people who came through MacGregor Park how it started, and you’ll notice a pattern: Wilkerson noticed them, spoke to them and invited them in.
Lori McNeil, who began working with John at age 11 and went on to become a world No. 8 singles player and a Grand Slam doubles champion, described her first day tagging along with her mom for a lesson. She expected to pick up balls. Instead, she met a coach who was very engaging with the kids, asking questions, challenging them and piquing their curiosity. By the end of that lesson, Wilkerson had invited her to a free Thursday clinic.
Shelly Mack’s entry came more gradually, through family. The youngest of four siblings in the program, she spent years playing on the side while her brothers and sister trained. One day, Wilkerson walked over and told her, “I think you’re ready to take this seriously.” Mack says that moment marked the beginning of a path that eventually led her to national-level competition and a full scholarship at Rice University.
Larry Thomas remembers a nearly identical origin story, only his began on a college campus. As a 10-year-old neighborhood kid hanging around Texas Southern University, he watched the team practice. Wilkerson invited him to hit a few balls. That invitation became mentorship, then structure, then a pathway: tournaments, development, college tennis and a lifetime in the sport.
Ray Martinez’s entry came through a teacher who noticed his athletic potential and brought him to MacGregor Park. Martinez says Wilkerson was “like a father,” someone who picked him up for practice, made sure he had rackets and stayed present for years.
Different decades. Same mechanism. A coach who sees someone standing on the edge of the court, and brings them into the center of it.
MacGregor Park’s Quiet Formula for Excellence
Coaches often talk about culture in abstract terms. At MacGregor Park, it showed up in how players trained, competed and supported one another.
McNeil recalls, “MacGregor Park was a special place with a family atmosphere. So many people there looked like me and played tennis very well. We’d go hang out there all day. Everybody was looking after everyone else, and with the coaching, it just all came together to create this amazing atmosphere.”
Mack describes Wilkerson as “a dad before a coach,” someone more concerned with well-being and quality of life than results. Tennis, she says, was the structure he used to teach commitment, integrity, emotional regulation and care for others. If an opponent cheated, Wilkerson’s lesson wasn’t retaliation, but reflection: is that the person you want to be?
Thomas remembers long summer days where Wilkerson arrived early, stayed late and gave time without charging fees, driving players to tournaments in his personal car.
Martinez says Wilkerson would address the person before the player. If the mood or mindset wasn’t right, they might not even pick up a racket. They’d talk first, because in Wilkerson’s approach, the mind led the tennis.
How Coaches Expand Pathways Before Funding Arrives
One of the most useful lessons for coaches, especially those outside private club systems, is how Wilkerson treated resources. McNeil fondly recalls his mindset: “He never focused on what we didn’t have. We had courts, balls, a sport that he loved and his enthusiasm for teaching.”
Mack remembers traveling to tournaments where MacGregor Park players were often the minority and lacked the financial advantages of their opponents. Wilkerson countered that imbalance by insisting on togetherness. If one player was on court, everyone watched. If someone lacked confidence, the group provided it until they could believe for themselves.
Martinez remembers a time when a group needed $30,000 to attend a major tournament, but fundraising fell short. An anonymous donation appeared. Later, they learned it came from Wilkerson, who didn’t want recognition. The point wasn’t money; it was access.
For coaches reading this, the lesson is not “resources don’t matter.” It’s that resource limitations don’t have to become identity limitations. “Resources can come over time,” McNeil says. “You start with certain things and you build on that. I believe if you really want something, you’re going to find a way to get it.”
The Racquet Will Do the Talking
Wilkerson’s 50 years began in a different tennis world, one shaped by assumptions about who belonged. His players describe how he handled that reality: not by denying it, but by refusing to let it define them.
Mack notes that Wilkerson insisted his players maintain their integrity. They were taught to be polite, kind and grounded regardless of how they were treated, on or off the court. Thomas says Wilkerson taught his students that they’re no different from anyone else. On court, it’s you, the opponent, and the ball. Background, status, resources – none of that hits a forehand.
For today’s coaches, the takeaway is practical: prepare players for real-world friction without building their identity around the friction.
Tennis Was the Medium, Not the Message
When asked what defined Wilkerson’s philosophy, Martinez puts it plainly: “Tennis is just the game.” Mack agrees. Wins and losses were never the focus. Wilkerson asked instead: How did you grow? How did you feel? What did you learn? His concern was development of the whole person, not the scoreboard.
Thomas describes Wilkerson’s coaching as a steady stream of life virtues: give back, do work you feel good about, show up early, stay late and give your best. McNeil, now coaching beginners to aspiring pros, says she carries forward Wilkerson’s emphasis on discipline, joy and learning from every moment.
The Long Game of Leadership
How many people are in tennis today because of John Wilkerson? Estimates vary from hundreds to thousands, but everyone agrees on the shape of the impact: it multiplies.
Mack points to a group chat of more than 20 former players that’s been active for decades. They may go years without talking, she says, but when someone needs help, everyone shows up.
That bond explains why this story matters. Wilkerson’s 50 years show what leadership looks like in tennis: invitation, belonging, discipline, belief and relentless giving.
Wilkerson is now retired from public life and residing in a care facility due to health challenges. While he's no longer on the court, his presence is still felt among the many players who flourished under his guidance.
For any coach wondering what their own career can amount to, MacGregor Park offers an answer. One player at a time, one practice at a time, one act of care at a time – your work can become someone else’s history.
