On paper, Hisham Abaza’s story is straight out of a tennis dream. Today, Abaza boasts over 20 years of coaching experience and a resume that includes working alongside elite coaches, one of whom helped build the careers of the Williams sisters. 

Nevertheless, despite his impressive background in professional tennis, the William Paterson scoreboard has not mirrored that level of expertise. 

Abaza, 62, is a United States Professional Tennis Association (USPTA) professional who currently coaches at the Maywood Tennis Club, teaching in age groups ranging from 15 to 25. 

He also served as the director and head professional of the Deerfield Beach tennis center in Florida before traveling the world to compete at a professional level. Since his return to William Paterson, he has led the tennis team to three academic all-district selections and ten spots on the Academic All-NJAC Team, illustrating that Abaza’s players are disciplined and academically motivated. 

Additionally, Abaza’s return to William Paterson began in 2018, meaning he has been coaching there for almost eight years. The program’s record has not historically been the best, but with Abaza’s return, there has been a slight increase in percentages based on last year’s season stats. 

Abaza pointed to what success looked like beyond the stats: rebuilding a program from the ground up and leadership. “What motivated you to return to William Paterson and coach the women’s tennis team?” 

He goes on to state that it is akin to “a cycle of death or destiny” and that he has “specific days here so I can teach, and I could be close to students where I could help one way or another, and I think it is a beautiful destiny.”

Abaza recognizes that this new generation keeps him adaptable by describing his work as a “never-ending learning experience” rather than an obstacle. 

“There is a huge generation gap between me and most of my students,” Abaza said. His disconnect stems from the age difference between him and his students, prompting him to seek more modern coaching methods. 

He goes on to say, “It is challenging for me to teach; tennis itself is the same, you know? … it’s like repeating the same method,” as he fidgets with his tennis racket.  For Abaza, there is more to growth than mastering a backhand; “For you, it’s like, who is this old guy talking to me? To me, I have to break that gap… It’s easier said than done, but it’s never easy anyhow.”

It is easy to pin Abaza as the veteran coach with all the answers, but he is quick to flip that assumption by stating that his players teach him as much as he teaches them.  “I am learning how to deal with this generation, especially at a college level,” as he pans to the court. 

“It’s beautiful because they are not just players; they are smart players. That forces me to obtain what we call a continuous indication. I have to just keep going on and on and on and on to improve my skills, to be able to connect with them,” he said. 

His focus on connection and adaptability demonstrates a coach who is invested in his game and the growth of his players. 

When asking, “What legacy do you want to leave behind?” Abaza responded by saying, “Legacy is not my legacy. That is not the issue; the legacy is what the William Patterson University tennis team is going to do, what happens on the court.” Wins fade and records reset, but the impact of a mentor sticks.

Separating himself from the spotlight, Abaza wants to leave behind a foundation that players can build on, trying to “leave a fun, educational opportunity. It has got to be a fun environment.” 

In a way, this sentiment encapsulates his entire coaching philosophy. It has never been about growing the resume or chasing recognition, but about planting something that lasts. But even with that dedication, the numbers tell a different story. William Paterson’s women’s tennis team has struggled to find its rhythm, as most players lose more than half of their matches. 

When asking how Abaza measures team success beyond wins and losses, he did not fail to express one of the main challenges facing his program: recruitment. “It’s a DIII; we’re having difficulty, let’s say, recruiting quality players. I’m not saying we don’t have quality players, but it could be better, especially in comparison to the colleges surrounding us,” Abaza stated. 

This reflects the broad reality of Division III athletics; scholarships are limited, and recruiting often depends on academic fit and student interest rather than athletic prestige. 

“It’s tough to have that comparison, to say, This is my background, and this is where I am right now,” he said. His aim is perseverance, not reputation. “I’m here to help. If I could help the college recruit better, I would. I am trying to do my best to be honest with you.” Here, Abaza illustrated a reminder that prestige does not automatically translate to progress. 

He does not sugarcoat his team’s performance but admits that “all it takes is two players—one or two, maximum three—to turn things around. Beyond that, it’s very… hit or miss,” he stated. 

Yet, Abaza acknowledges that his team’s challenges extend beyond his coaching and even the courts themselves; he says, “I think it’s a collective responsibility, not just me, but everybody, because I represent the college; the college should also represent me and the team.” 

If success is shared, is failure shared too? 

While Abaza is more than willing to shoulder his part, his comment subtly suggests that the institution is not fulfilling its role fully. For a Division III program that’s struggling for consistency, how much responsibility falls on the institution’s investment, or lack thereof, in athletics? 

To Abaza, this is about building a stronger bridge between the coach, the institution, and student-athletes. While the team’s record may not reflect Abaza’s decades of experience, his impact is felt every day in practice. His players describe an environment centered around discipline, strategy, and emotional growth. 

Isabella Paldino, junior, shared that “he makes sure that our academics always come first, which is extremely important to me. He also reminds us that while tennis is something we should take seriously, we should also just focus on having fun and simply doing our best.” 

Paldino goes on to talk about the difference in impact Abaza has had on her compared to previous coaches, stating that her “coaches in the past have been much tougher on me, which I loved at the moment, and it definitely made me a better player, but my coach now is also tough on me but is so supportive that it makes me want to work harder and harder.”

In their eyes, he’s more than a coach—he’s a mentor shaping not just athletes, but people.

Additionally, sophomore Anysa Rivera shared that “Coach Abaza’s strong tennis background definitely shows in our practices” and notes that “he’s very detail-oriented, and he makes sure we focus on technique and mostly on strategy.” 

Compared to another “coach” I had in high school, he’s very patient and empathizes with learning from your mistakes instead of dwelling on them. 

Even in defeat, his message stays the same: learn, grow, and keep going. And maybe that’s the kind of legacy that doesn’t fade after the final score. 

Moreover, that is the quiet truth at the heart of William Paterson’s women’s tennis story: even in a losing season, there is still meaning in the work, still a legacy in the making.

The wins may come. Maybe they won’t. Regardless, for Coach Abaza, the victories lie in learning his players and adapting to a new definition of what it means to lead. Legacy isn’t built from trophies or headlines but from the players who leave the court more confident than they arrived and in the lessons that outlast every season. 

In a world obsessed with winning, Abaza reminds us that sometimes the most significant victories occur quietly, in the relationships that transform people, not just the scoreboard.