Hewitt and Chela had a hate for eachother for a while after Chela spat towards him during a match.
The Hewitt v Chela Incident
Video(3rd on the list)
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Pat Cash absolutely hated Lendl, especially after Lendl broke his new shoes. Here is the story from his biography(good book):
Pat Cash, Ivan Lendl and the 'Shoebreaker' incident.
Arrogance has always been Ivan Lendl's style, and amazingly for a Czech guy
who went to live in the United States and actually took on American
citizenship, Lendl was unquestionably a racist.
Around the mid- to late 1980's we had quite a few black players on the tour.
Arthur Ashe had long since retired, but from America there were Chip Hooper,
Lloyd Bourne, Rodney Harmon, Todd Nelson and Bryan Shelton. Of course there
was also Yannick Noah, and from Nigeria, though he was educated in Texas,
there was Nduka Duke Odizor, a legendary cheat but off court a lovely guy.
Lendl would say the most offensive things, and didn't care if any of them
were within earshot. Sitting in the locker room or players restaurants, he
used to make the cruellest racial jokes, all with not the faintest sense of
remorse.
Homosexuals were another brunt of his jokes. For instance, there was an
Australian guy who once worked for the ATP and is now a journalist; I'm not
100 per cent sure whether he was gay or not, but if he was, it certainly
wasn't any of my business, or indeed Ivan Lendl's. Yet day in, day out, this
poor bloke used to take a fearful hammering from Lendl's idea of humour.
What could he say back? If he had told the world number one to **** off,
then he would have lost his job.
But the day Lendl decided to have a joke at my expense was the day he made a
big mistake. Not only did he run into somebody who didn't give a damn about
his reputation or his ranking, he also earned himself a fierce enemy who
would take great delight in getting even with him at a place that really
mattered a few years later. As I recall, the incident happened early in my
career, when I was only just 18 years old, and fresh from the junior world
number one, in terms of the full tour I was still very much a new kid on the
block.
Lendl had taken over the world number one spot a couple of months earlier
and quite rightly thought of himself as a big star. Nevertheless I was
feeling kind of special as well. I had just signed a deal to wear tennis
shoes made by the Italian firm Diadora, and had been given a very unique
gift. One of my great sporting heroes of the time was the legendary 400m
hurdler Edwin Moses, who was another, but much more celebrated, Diadora
client. In honour of Moses, the company had made him some special Crimson
red leather jogging shoes. Nowadays there are all different types of
coloured athletic footwear, such as Michael Johnson's golden spikes and
David Beckham's silver soccer boots. Back then, however, red leather jogging
shoes were unheard of, and to make their new signing feel wanted, Diadora
had presented me with a pair.
They were my pride and joy. I loved them, and one afternoon I was sitting on
a bench in the Monte Carlo Country Club locker room talking to Paul McNamee.
I had already lost in the qualifying rounds of the tournament but was
hanging around because Monte Carlo in the European spring is not an
unpleasant place to spend a few days training. The actual setting of the
tennis courts is one of the most beautiful in the world. They are terraced,
climbing above the clear blue Mediterranean, and if you look across the bay
there is the designer Karl Lagefeld's villa standing on the headland.
I was minding my own business when in walked Lendl, and he instantly took a
huge amusement in the red shoes on my feet. He bent down, pulled the laces
and ripped the shoes apart. There was no other way to describe it, he
totally destroyed the things, and the little plastic bits that held the
laces in place were pinging all over the locker room.
Lendl thought it was absolutely hillarious. Like a great big bully at
school, he was having a good time at the expense of one of the younger kids.
But he didn't realise that this new boy wasn't going to take any of his
Sh&t, and I absolutely flew at him in a fearful rage, and if Paul McNamee
hadn't intervened very smartly, who is to say what would have happened.
Never mind the red shoes, for me the red mist had come down, and I wanted to
kill the world number one.
Macca had his arms around my chest pinning me back, but I was still shouting
at Lendl, yelling what a despicable Bas$$$d he was, and how I would punch
his lights out once I got the chance. All through it, Lendl was looking at
me with the expression that suggested, you cannot do this to me because I am
the number one. He really did think he could do anything he wanted. There
were a few players in the locker room who just missed the incident, and
several of them have since told me that they truly wished I had given Lendl
a really good hiding. From that day on I disliked the guy intensely, and
always referred to him as Mr Shoebreaker.
He was always so conceited, so superior and always used to put people down;
he would regularly berate me about my game, and say I possessed so many
technical and fundamental faults. To me, he was too unfunny for words, and I
always wanted to make him really suffer. That was why I enjoyed beating him
at Wimbledon so much. It was the one major title he never won, but craved so
much.
