champion
TENNIS:Richard Williams
THE means were predictable, the method was not. The Wimbledon final was certainly won, as advertised, by Pete Sampras’s serve but not, in this instance, by the 208km/h fireballs that had reduced his opponents to cinders in the earlier rounds.
In a match falling some way short of greatness Sampras demonstrated his own right to be called great by adapting himself to the demands of the hour, modifying his most fearsome weapon in order to beat Cedric Pioline with guile and cunning.
Time after time, serving from the deuce court, Sampras took some of the pace off his first serve and sliced the ball into the tramlines, away from Pioline’s lunging forehand. His astonishing accuracy with this particular variation earned him half a dozen “soft” aces and kept his opponent guessing right up until the very last point of the match.
Apart from bringing dividends in its own right the tactic also made it virtually impossible for Pioline to read his intentions. The errors which Pioline was guilty of, he said, had been generated by the pressure to hold his serve, itself created by the ease with which Sampras was winning his own.
“The worst thing that can happen to me against Pete is that I lose my serve at the beginning, so that I’m running after the game,” the Frenchman said.
And all this business about Sampras being boring is beneath contempt. By the pseudo- standards of today’s media, who else in tennis history would have qualified for such an epithet? Rod Laver, of course – the man many believe has the best claim to be called the greatest of all.
But, luckily for him, no one expected Laver to dole out quips or insults at the post- match press conference, or to make an exhibition of his love life.
Sampras looked properly delighted by his triumph and blew a discreet kiss to his girlfriend but all the significant public self-expression had already been put into the match. Later, when somebody asked him if he planned to show more emotion on and off court, or whether he would remain self- contained, he said: “Well, it’s worked so far, so I don’t plan on changing anything. I know I’m not David Letterman when it comes to the interviews but the way I am on court is the way I’ve been my whole life and it’s the way I’ll continue to be.”
There are four Wimbledon singles titles against his name now, and 10 Grand Slam titles, and at the age of 25 he could well be on his way to setting new figures for both. “I don’t look at myself in terms of history,” he said, “but I feel that I’m doing quite well for how old I am. I feel like I’m still in the middle of my career. As long as I’m playing well and working hard and staying healthy, there’s no reason why I can’t stay at this level for many years.
“I’ll keep going until I feel I’m no longer in contention for Slams. That’ll be the day to stop.
“To hold the trophy again and look at all the names on it and to see mine four times is something that I’ll always remember.” It is unlikely to be the last of this modest, gracious and wonderfully talented man’s Wimbledon memories.