The Man Who Invented a Sport and Played Tennis with Willy Wonka

The man who invented a sport – Brad Parks, a visionary who transformed the world of tennis, faced a unique challenge when he first dreamed of playing the sport. The sign at the local tennis courts read “no bikes and no skateboards,” yet Parks wondered how that rule applied to him. With a wheelchair that had front wheels similar to a skateboard and rear wheels akin to a bicycle, he questioned whether he could even access the court. The gate required dismantling his chair to pass through, but Parks was undeterred. He had invented a sport—and would do whatever it took to make it a reality.

It all began during a family picnic in Indiana, a pivotal moment 50 years ago. Parks, then 18, was in a wheelchair after a freestyle skiing accident in Utah a few months prior. His family had gathered for a simple day of fun, but the scene at the tennis courts sparked a new idea. While watching able-bodied players, Parks noticed the barriers to his participation. His father encouraged him to join in, and as he began hitting tennis balls with his hospital wheelchair, he made a decision that would change his life. “I decided right then I was going to give it a shot,” he recalls, reflecting on the moment.

“If I’m going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, I’ve got to be the best I can be,” Parks said. “I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me, so I wanted to play.”

Parks had initially considered basketball as the go-to sport for wheelchair users, a suggestion from his hospital bed. But his passion for tennis, which he had been honing before his injury, drove him to pursue something different. The accident—a result of over-rotating on a backflip and landing heavily on packed snow—had left him paralyzed, but it also ignited his determination. He envisioned a sport that would let him compete on equal terms with his able-bodied friends, a goal that seemed impossible at first.

After the picnic, Parks began playing tennis almost daily, but it was a struggle. His wheelchair lacked the grip needed for standard courts, and the dust and dirt made traction difficult. The first few attempts were chaotic, with the non-wheelchair player often having to cover more ground or serve underarm. Yet, Parks persisted. Everything shifted when he returned for a follow-up hospital visit and met Jeff Minnebraker, a physiotherapist who shared his curiosity about wheelchair tennis. “We instantly connected because we realized we were the only two people in the world playing this way,” Parks explains.

Their collaboration led to experimentation with rules. Should the court size change? Would the net height differ? At first, they played against able-bodied players, adapting the game to accommodate their unique setup. But by 1977, they settled on simplicity. The only rule change they agreed upon was allowing the ball to bounce twice—a rule that would later become the foundation of wheelchair tennis. Parks, already a skilled player, dominated the sport’s early days, even as it was still in its infancy. “We had no umpires, and the tournaments were run by people in rehab,” he says. “They weren’t tennis experts, so nobody really knew the rules.”

Despite the challenges, Parks remained optimistic. He believed in the potential of wheelchair tennis, even as skeptics questioned its viability. One such skeptic was a National Wheelchair Basketball Association commissioner, who dismissed the idea as a waste of time. “He told me tennis wasn’t a feasible wheelchair sport,” Parks remembers. “But I didn’t let that stop me. I was determined to prove him wrong.”

As the sport grew, so did its visibility. Parks’ efforts eventually caught the attention of Gene Wilder, the actor who played Willy Wonka in the 1971 film. Their friendship, forged through shared passion for tennis, helped bring wheelchair tennis into the mainstream. Wilder’s association with the sport added a layer of cultural significance, connecting it to the whimsical world of cinema and showcasing its potential to inspire.

Early tournaments were held on public courts, often with makeshift setups. Players had to adapt to uneven surfaces and lack of proper equipment, but Parks saw these obstacles as part of the journey. “It wasn’t perfect,” he admits. “But we were pioneers, and that’s what mattered.” The sport’s first official event in Irvine, California, in 1977 marked a turning point. Parks’ victory there not only proved the concept viable but also laid the groundwork for its future success.

Over time, wheelchair tennis evolved into a recognized discipline, eventually appearing at Grand Slam events and the Paralympics. Its rules, initially simple, were refined to ensure fairness and accessibility. The sport’s growth mirrored Parks’ own journey—from a wheelchair-bound teenager to a trailblazer who redefined what was possible. Today, the game he once played on makeshift courts is a global phenomenon, with players competing at the highest levels.

But the legacy of Parks’ early efforts extends beyond the courts. He recalls a photograph at Wimbledon’s museum of George Cayley, a disabled man playing tennis a century earlier, suspended from a frame. “It showed progress,” he says. “But wheelchair players were still an unusual sight.” Parks’ determination to overcome both physical and societal barriers helped shift perceptions. “People used to question whether wheels could damage the courts or if the game was even worth it,” he reflects. “Now, it’s a celebrated sport with a growing community.”

Looking back, Parks credits his parents for supporting his unconventional path. They connected him with players and opponents, helping him build the network needed to make his dream a reality. “Without their help, I might never have had the chance to play,” he says. His story is a testament to the power of perseverance and the importance of finding one’s niche. What started as a personal challenge became a movement, proving that with creativity and courage, new possibilities can emerge.

Today, wheelchair tennis is a symbol of inclusivity, with its rules carefully designed to balance accessibility and competition. The sport’s origins, however, remain a reminder of the ingenuity required to bridge the gap between tradition and innovation. Parks’ journey from a hospital wheelchair to the grand stages of professional tennis is a story of transformation—and it continues to inspire new generations of athletes to push boundaries, both on and off the court.