The winner of 1997’s first Grand Slam tournament became the youngest No 1 in the history of women’s tennis when she succeeded Steffi Graf
TENNIS:Stephen Bierley
THE man in the Lipton Championships courtesy car knew a lot about tennis. He eased himself back in his driving seat, squinted into the dazzling early-morning Florida sun and spoke with unequivocal authority. “Yeah, I hear this kid Genghis is real good.” It is an endearing habit of Americans to air their ignorance in public without a trace of restraint. Genghis. Hingis. Who the hell cares? “That little lady sure knows how to play.”
So she does, and last week she was officially proclaimed the women’s world No 1, the youngest player ever to get to the top of the professional pile. “I think for every sport it’s a great thing to become the best,” she says. “That’s what I have been working on all my life and now it’s happening. It’s a great feeling, especially at my young age.” It has been a short career of such spectacular brilliance that it would be no great surprise if she were a spoilt, pampered, egotistical, pubescent brat. But Martina Hingis is not like that.
Those who have travelled the world with her, especially during these past incredible 12 months, are united in their admiration. She has not changed nor been changed. She loves tennis, she loves success, she loves life. And her flashing smile is no mere PR gimmick.
Americans may not be able to remember her name but they adore her. So do the Australians and the Europeans. The only nation that does not appear entirely taken with her is her adopted Switzerland. The Swiss, or so it seems, are used to fortunes but are less sure how to react to fame. There was a distinctly muted welcome this year after she returned home from Melbourne having become the youngest player (those two words again) in modern times to win a Grand Slam event, the Australian Open.
Instead of praising her to the top of the Alps, many Swiss seemed more interested in the fact that her father Karol was complaining that his daughter was rich and he had no money. He remained in Slovakia when Hingis’s mother Melanie left for Switzerland when Martina was only seven.
“We are a nation of school teachers,” a Swiss journalist told me. “I think that maybe because Martina is so young and because she had so much fame and money people are somehow not comfortable. I really don’t know why but it is true.”
There is no indication that Hingis will leave Switzerland. She does not have to pay any tax until she is 18 – next year – although then she may follow the path of so many other leading tennis players – 37 at the last count – to Monte Carlo.
Her rise to the top, albeit hastened by Steffi Graf’s injury, has been far, far more rapid than most expected. Last May in the Italian Open in Rome, she defeated a distracted Graf in the quarter-finals before losing comprehensively to Conchita Martinez in the final.
Hingis’s English was still fractured but she made it clear she had absolutely nothing left, emotionally, for that final. Indeed, the received wisdom was that her progress should best be taken slowly. Jennifer Capriati’s horribly public burn-out was still fresh in everybody’s mind.
Yet Hingis, still sporting a ponytail and every bit a vibrant 15-year-old, was in her element in Rome, her only regret being she had not had enough free time. She loves to ride horses, she loves to rollerblade, and her mother, with whom Martina travels everywhere, has encouraged her daughter to enjoy these much-needed releases.
There is no knowing if the mother-daughter relationship will hold secure; last year at the Lipton, after Martina had lost somewhat aimlessly in the second round to Nana Miyagi of Japan, her mother apparently issued her with the stark option of taking tennis seriously or returning to school. The teenager needed no second warning jolt.
That win against Graf in Rome was the beginning of her startling climb, although she believes it was her 1996 Wimbledon doubles title, with Helena Sukova, that was the seminal point in her nascent career. “I thought nobody can ever take this away from me.” Then, between last year’s Olympic Games in Atlanta and the US Open, Hingis, sensing her time had come, turned to the Swiss marathon runner Richard Umberg to help her get totally fit. She trained at a boxing club in Chur, a few kilometres from her home at Trubbach, and for the first time in her life began to take her diet seriously.
It was a different Hingis who arrived in New York last September. The ponytail had gone and there was a new-found maturity to her play that proved altogether too much for Arantxa Sanchez Vicario and Jana Novotna. She now knew she could beat players in the top 10, and since Flushing Meadow there has been no turning back, with four consecutive tournament wins this year, including the Australian Open.
There are still moments when this prodigy appears fragile and vulnerable, but they are rarely on court, where her marvellous ability to take the ball early, her flawless timing, and her genius for producing the unexpected single her out as a natural winner of immense talent.
“What is unusual about Martina is her amazing maturity,” says Monica Seles. “She has a great sense of where you are going to hit the ball, and it’s very hard to read her strokes. She’s good on both sides. It’s not as if she has one weakness. She’s a tough player, that’s why she’s No 1. But she seems to have a great balance in everything she does, on and off court, and that’s nice to see.”
Hingis has rewritten the records books ever since she picked up a racket. There seems no reason to suppose she will not continue to do so for very many years yet. Perhaps even long enough for the Swiss to take her to their hearts.
ENDS