by Alan Trengrove, Australian tennis Magazine
August 2003
Whenever one of the truly great players retires - a Laver, Borg or Navratilova - we rightly regard it as an end of an era. And so it is with Pete Sampras.
The phenomenal American has yet to announce he has quit the game he graced for more than 15 years. But as he hasn't played since the 2002 US Open - which he won in magnificent style - and is now aged 32, and married with a baby son, we can safely assume there'll be no more High Noons for Pistol Pete.
His absence from the 2003 US Open is simply further evidence that a new era has begun, even though his most famous rival, Andre Agassi, is still dodging bullets (well, most of them) and remains very serious about hauling in the spoils.
A couple of months ago, at Wimbledon, where Sampras has won the championship seven times - in fact, every time he reached the final - the changing of the guard in men's tennis was obvious. Other great favourites of the '90s, such as Patrick Rafter, Richard Krajicek, Goran Ivanisevic and Michael Chang, had also faded away; and younger players like Roger Federer, Andy Roddick and Juan Carlos Ferrero were in hot contention for the old king's throne.
A cursory glance at the stats will be enough for future generations to appreciate what a giant of the game Sampras really was. Apart from those Wimbledon crowns, he gathered five US Open Championships, and two Australian Open titles to bring his Grand Slam tally to a record 14. This was two more than Roy Emerson's total, and as "Emmo" would be the first to admit, the competition was infinitely stronger and deeper in Sampras' era. Among the men superstars as Agassi, Boris Becker, Stefan Edberg, Jim Courier, Ivan Lendl and Patrick Rafter.
Another impressive stat is Sampras' six successive years (1993-98) as the world's No. 1 ranked player. His dominance amazed other fine players, happy enough if they attained the top spot just briefly. "He was always the most complete player", said Becker. "He has the power, he has the speed, he has the touch. He is the best player ever."
Whether he is indeed the greatest male player in the history of tennis is open to argument. Jimmy Connors, who player over a much longer period, won many more titles. And John McEnroe, who was more committed to Davis Cup, compiled a better cup record. Nor should we ever underestimate the greatest of Rod Laver, the player whose skill and exploits, watched with reverence on videotape, inspired Sampras as a boy. Laver achieved two Grand Slams, one as an amateur, the other as a pro, and that meant, among other things, that he twice won the French singles on clay, whereas Sampras failed in 13 visits to Roland Garros.
Sampras freely admits that the absence of any French Open silverware in his trophy cabinet is regrettable. "It is not going to affect the rest of my life," he said recently, "but it was one of my more disappointing moments." He added that he'd been more relaxed at the other majors. In Paris he was always "trying to make it happen instead of letting it happen."
From the moment he won his first major, the 1990 US Open, at the age of 19 years and 28 days, Sampras usually had half his mind on his place in history. He became the youngest US champion at that even by beating Lendl, McEnroe and Agassi in the last three rounds. Lendl had particular cause to be rueful, since he had invited the youngster a few months earlier to spend some time at his Conneticut home and train with him. From that visit Pete learned of the Lendl work ethic and the value of physical fitness.
He was blessed with a naturally powerful game. At 14, he came under the influence of Dr Pete Fisher, a paediatrician who took up tennis coaching as a hobby and realised the lad was limiting his potential by using a double-handed back hand and rarely venturing from the baseline. Sampras switched to a single-handed, flowing backhand and gave his aggressive instincts full rein.
By the time he graduated from junior tennis he had acquired heavy ground strokes, including a running cross-court forehand that became a trademark. He was extremely quick and had the touch and athletic ability to become an excellent volleyer.
But the key to his prowess was his service. Simple and rhythmic, it reminded many old hands of Pancho Gonzales, the silkily smooth champion who had ruled Jack Kramer's pro troupe many years before. It's an old adage that a player is only as good as his second serve. Sampras' second delivery was almost as lethal as his first, and he scarcely ever double-faulted.
Dr Fisher made another important contribution to his prot�g�'s development by encouraging him to choose Laver, Emerson and Ken Rosewall as models. The young American aimed to play a similar type of game as the Aussies, and, just as important, to comport himself as they did.
"They were all class acts", he used to say.
The 1990 breakthrough was followed by years of intense psychological pressure. Sampras lost his US title the following year, and was chided by Connors for saying he was glad to get the monkey off his back. Reserved and introverted, he needed to learn how to handle public expectations and make the best of his weapons on a consistent basis. The man who, more than anyone, helped him to mature was the amiable Tim Gullickson.
It was July, 1993, before Sampras captured his second major - Wimbledon. His four-set victory over Courier established a winning habit at the All England Club broken only once in eight years, when Krajicek beat him in the 1996 quarter-finals. The conditions at Wimbledon suited Sampras perfectly. Even when he'd been struggling in the previous months, he invariably hit good form once he felt the famous green sward under his feet and began pouncing on volleys.
"I don't know what it is about Wimbledon," he once said. "I don't have the recipe on how I do it. But I just have this inner belief that I will win there."
His Wimbledon record is so outstanding it puts his US Open performances in the shade, yet no player has done better at Flushing Meadows. Besides winning the title five times, Sampras was runner-up on three other occasions. Twice, he won the Wimbledon and US Open titles back-to-back.
Perhaps the most unfair and frustrating criticism of Samaras was that he was colorless and boring. The charge originated in the British press and appeared to be delayed reaction to the misbehaviour of McEnroe, who regularly had Wimbledon in convulsions in the '80s, and was a journalist's godsend.
Most of Sampras' critics didn't have clue about just how good a player he was. They tended to be columnists and feature writers whose one appearance-a-year at a tennis tournament was at Wimbledon, where they sought bright copy either in the form of controversy, comedy or eccentricity. Sampras wasn't of much use in providing any. As he put it himself, "I wanted to be the guy who won titles."
He possessed a couple of unfortunate traits that didn't help his image: in earlier days his head sagged when luck was running against him; a gaping mouth compounded an unflattering appearance. Increasingly in his career, though, he displayed emotion - especially joy in victory.
Few in the stands could gauge the intensity he mustered. Geoff Mackay, the former Davis Cup physio, once told me he was awestruck by the savagery of Sampras' game when observing it close up at ground level.
The fact is, Sampras had as much fire in his belly as any great champion has ever had, though it wasn't always discernible from a distance because his face was a mask. And being an attacking player with the speed and leap of a panther, the punching volleys and smashes of a front-court killer, his deadly deeds were often riveting. How on earth could he be considered dull?
And then there was the drama that occasionally surrounded him. When Tim Gullickson, his beloved coach, fell mortally ill at the 1995 Australian Open, Sampras was devastated. His night match against Courier developed into a marathon, with Sampras deeply distressed by emotional strain. At the start of the fifth set he broke down in uncontrollable tears when someone in the crowd shouted: "Do it for your coach!"
Against all odds, Sampras reached the final that year, but was emotionally and physically drained when he played Agassi, losing in four sets.
Another memorable occasion was the 1996 US Open quarter-final in which he battled Spain's Alex Corretja to a standstill. Exhausted and vomiting several times at the back of the court, he somehow got to a match-deciding fifth-set tiebreak. There he saved a match point with a lunging volley, and eventually won at 9-7 when Corretja double-faulted.
Late in the career it was revealed that Sampras suffers from a genetic condition common to those from a Mediterranean background. (Sampras is of Greek descent). He tends to be slightly anaemic, and physical exertion in extreme heat can be very difficult, if not dangerous, for him.
Sampras actually earned a reputation for winning matches when apparently on the brink of collapse because of illness or injury. At Wimbledon 2000, it was painful leg splints that threatened his survival. In match after match he received on-court treatment. Physios worked hard on him between matches, and his continued participation was a day-to-day proposition. In the final he met Rafter. He lost the first set in a tiebreak, and looked like conceding the second set, too, but wound up winning in four.
So what is Pete's legacy?
It would be nice to think there's a new wave of Sampras-like talent on the horizon - gifted up-and-comers endeavouring to play as he did. The truth is to the contrary. Just as in Australia there appear to be no budding Rafters in our midst, so the top American players over the next few years are more likely to be in the mold of Andy Roddick and James Blake, who use double-handed backhands and prefer playing from the baseline.
The big hope for Sampras fans is that Roger Federer continues to develop the aggressive all-court game that won him. Wimbledon. Federer could increasingly become a replica of Sampras, for he possesses much the same weapons, if not quite the same intensity. When he defeated the American in the fourth round of Wimbledon in 2001, he seemed ready to accept his mantle, but it took him another two years to fulfill his promise. Even so, he was within a week of the same age as Sampras when his illustrious predecessor first won the title.
Whether the laid-back Swiss has the ambition and drive to emulate Sampras' remarkable record, only time will tell. But he well may. Two Australian Open crowns was a modest haul for a player of Sampras' stature (compared, for instance, to Agassi's four). If he remains fit, Federer could finally do better than Sampras Down Under. His clay-court record suggests he won't be as frustrated at Roland Garros.
Sampras' chief monument is his stupendous feat of amassing seven Wimbledon titles. Federer, alone of the current players, seems to possess the exceptional attacking ability to equal or surpass that achievement. Should he one day do so, he'll surely owe some of his inspiration to the wonderful example set by Pistol Pete.