All eyes are on Jennifer Capriati at Wimbledon this year, reports Frew McMillan
The world’s number-one player is not playing the world’s number one tournament. As bright as a light is Gustavo Kuerten’s tennis, but all he will be doing at Wimbledon is casting a dark shadow over the men’s field.
Kuerten played some wonderful tennis to win his third French Open. He is undoubtedly a great clay-courter but remember, too, that he won the premier indoor event at the end of last year, The Masters Cup, in which he beat Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi in the semis and final. So he is an outstanding fast-court player as well. Why on earth does he not try, therefore, to win on grass?
Too tired after the demands of Roland Garros? Bunkum. Two years ago Agassi won the French and four Sundays later lost in the Wimbledon final to Sampras. In 1993 Jim Courier was in both finals, as was Stefan Edberg in 1989 and Ivan Lendl two years running. John McEnroe appeared in both finals in 1984 while the great Bjorn Borg won both events three years on the trot. Four other players have done this double World War II: Budge Patty, Tony Trabert, Lew Hoad and Rod Laver twice. Just what is the flaw in Kuerten’s character that stops him trying to join these immortals who reinforce tennis by bridging the Channel?
I will leave you to play psychologist or psychiatrist, even though a flaw remains the central thread of my thoughts on Wimbledon. Given my affiliation with the men’s tour I suppose you would imagine that I, too, am consumed by the men’s singles. Not so. My curiosity is Jennifer Capriati.
My greatest interest at Wimbledon 2001 lies with the progress of this prodigal daughter of Florida, who has the potential to record that rare distinction in tennis the grand slam of the four majors in one year. Just three women have achieved the grand slam, Maureen Connolly in 1953, Margaret Court in 1970 and Steffi Graf in 1988. Don Budge, in 1938, and Rod Laver, in 1962 and 69, are the only men.
Capriati beat Martina Hingis to win the Australian, and Kim Clijsters of Belgium in that rousing 12-10 final set at the French Open. Winning at Wimbledon would make it three out of four. The thought of all four only ever enters a young player’s head in their wildest dreams.
It takes 28 matches on four different surfaces at four points of the globe in a cauldron of pressure. A superhuman feat and Jennifer Capriati is halfway there.
My devotion to the men’s game has never meant the blindness of Chauvin for the women’s. My mother played a good game, my first South African crown was a mixed, for the first 10 years of my career I played in tournaments for both men and women, my first major was the French mixed title, and for five years I was coach of a Team Tennis squad that included both sexes in the most competitive of environs. I saw more tears in those years than in all the other 35 put together. I have seen a lot of women’s tennis.
I recall saying of Capriati when I first saw her play that here, potentially, was another Chris Evert, only bigger, faster, stronger. How wrong I was. Or was I? What might Capriati have achieved had she not gone off the rails into the tramlines of drugs and shoplifting? These sad struggles have been hashed and rehashed, yet do of course lend a peculiar poignancy. They are key ingredients in this most human of tennis tales that might propel Capriati into the realms of superhuman and fairy tale.
She has fitness and speed, imagination and resilience, great enthusiasm. She bounced back in the French final, bounced back into tennis from those wilderness years. Technically excellent with real power in her groundstrokes a two-handed background similar to Evert, only fisted and turbocharged; a good volleyer and a refreshing service that seems to risk so much when it comes to the second serve.
Even after long rallies covering the sort of ground that should leave her breathless, she is ready to serve before the spectators have had time to catch their breath. A breath of fresh air and a get-up-and-go attitude that gives the impression she has no weight on her shoulders.
What does she have that the others don’t? First, speed and agility. The Williams sisters are fast but not as agile as Capriati, whose footwork is excellent. They have more power but this year she has harnessed hers more efficiently while the sisters have been guilty of too many unforced errors.
Lindsay Davenport, too, has greater weight of shot but lacks speed and nimbleness. Hingis has greater all-round court craft than anyone, but falls short in muscle and confidence. She has not won a major for two-and-a-half years.
Next, Capriati’s greatest ally must be confidence. With the Australian and French already hers, she’s on the crest of a wave. So, mind you, was Tiger Woods and he was unceremoniously dumped at the United States Open. It is an almightily difficult task but the draw has been kind. She is in the same half as Serena Williams (incidentally keep an eye on Justine Henin, a natural if ever I saw one), with Venus, Davenport, Clijsters and Jelena Dokic all in the bottom half.
Capriati was seeded in 1990 when she was 14. If she were to flower this year, would it not be the longest germination in Wimbledon history?
Wait I can’t. This is the second serving of Jennifer Capriati. I admire her enormously for what she has overcome. As for what we are about to receive from her, may we all be truly thankful, and hope for the third of the four crowns in what would surely be the grandest of the Grand Slam stories.
The world’s top male couldn’t bother to turn up. I await eagerly the second coming of JC.
Frew McMillan is the winner of 10 grand slam doubles titles