Fram reports
Years ago, a gentleman approached us during the British Open, and wanted Steve (Cubbins, the champ of junior events photographers, among other talents) to take a picture of his daughter.
“She will be world champion” he boasted.
The gentleman, Atef. The little girl, Nour. And the rest is history….
When Nour turned 19….
Atef Sherbini: Raising a Champ — Never Raising His Voice…
Before she became world number one, before the titles and the trophies, Nour El Sherbini was simply a little girl following her brother to a sports club in Alexandria.
“There was no plan,” her father Atef Sherbini says. “Like many kids, they just tried different sports.”
The group started with tennis. They didn’t like it. Swimming came next. Same difference. Then, almost by chance, they walked into the squash courts at Smouha Club, in Alexandria. Nour was barely four or five years old.
What changed everything was not ambition, but observation
“There was a coach who believed squash wasn’t about hitting the ball hard,” Atef recalls. “He believed you had to feel the ball. Enjoy it. Understand space and timing.”
That coach made a decision early on. Most of the children, he felt, were not suited for squash. But the little girl was, he stressed. Atef, a full-time businessman, became increasingly involved in his daughter’s squash training.
“You cannot decide a child’s future for them,” Atef insists. “You can’t say: my son must be a squash player because I want it. Talent has to be recognised, not imposed.”
Nour’s first competition came at seven and a half, at Gezira Club, in Cairo, at the time the heart of squash in Egypt. She won. Not only her age group, but also matches against older girls. Soon after, she became the Egyptian national champion under 11.
“That’s when I realised she deserved everything,” Atef says. “She was talented. You could feel it.”
Teaching her to how to think, not how to play
At that point, Atef reorganised his entire life around his daughter’s development. Although he had never been a squash coach, he became her constant presence.
“I didn’t teach technique,” he explains. “I taught her how to think. Why to play a shot. Where to put the ball. We talked a lot.”
Training was always turned into a game. Targets instead of drills. Challenges instead of pressure.
“If you hit the target, you win,” he smiles. “If not, we stay on court. I used to give her a little money when she hit the target. She cleaned me out all the time!!! It was fun. It was always a game.”
Behind the scenes, Nour’s mother, Randa, played a crucial role. She managed school, schedules and balance of it all. From the very beginning, the family protected Nour’s childhood.
“Two full days every week, no squash,” Atef says. “No training. No talking about matches. Just being a girl. Socialising. Having fun. Seeing her friends.”
That balance shaped the person as much as the player.
“Nour is a perfectionist,” her father says. “She wants everything to be correct — squash, school, life.”
But perfection comes with extreme sensitivity.
“She hates being shouted at. She doesn’t respond to orders. She responds to understanding.”
Atef learned quickly that traditional authoritarian coaching wouldn’t work.
“If you want her to do something, explain it,” he says. “Then leave her alone. She will do it.”
Best moments?
When asked about his favourite memories, two moments stand out.
The first came in Chennai, India, when Nour won the World Junior Championship under 19 at just 13 years old.
“I went just to watch,” Atef recalls. “No pressure. And suddenly, she was champion. That day was very special.”
The second came years later in Malaysia, in December 2016, her second World Champ final, during a breakthrough match where belief mattered more than the score.
She had lost against Laura Massaro in her first-ever World Champ final, in Malaysia as well, two years before, in an excruciating 70m loss, 11/9 in the 5th (thanks SquashInfo)
And here she was again, same country, same city, same opponent. But this time, she went down quickly 2/0. Her dad didn’t panic and told her to just win a game. A single game.
“She needed just one game,” he remembers. “Once she got it, everything changed.”
And that was probably her most beautiful World Titles (out of the 8 she now has, and more coming up!)
Worst moments…
Atef paused for a few seconds. Had a little think, smiled, and murmured with emotion in his voice:
“Every time she looses”… “When she loses, it hurts,” Atef admits.
“But I told her: don’t cry in public. Feel everything in private. That’s why I travelled so much,” he adds quietly. “She needed me there.”
And now, what?
Today, the challenge is different. Nour is no longer the fearless young outsider. Sponsored by Banque du Caire for donkey years, she is a champion trying todefend her place in a faster, more physical women’s game.
“The game has changed,” Atef says. “Matches are longer. More physical. And Nour is older now.”
Injuries – her knee – must be managed. Expectations weighed. Tactics adapted. Greg Gaultier – coach to Nour – is always there, in the background.
“Not changed,” he corrects gently. “Adapted.”
Atef remains philosophical. Calm. Grounded.
“She has nothing to prove,” he says. “She already did everything.”
“She still wants to learn. “And as long as she loves learning, she will keep going…”
Thank the Lord for that, my friend, Elhamdoulilah, very, very much…
