And so farewell, Pete Sampras. Or at least farewell to that 95% of you that has decided to pack up tennis. And what a nasty, niggling 5% of uncertainty it is that will not allow you yet to retire for good, thereby denying a host of commentators the chance to place your career achievements in a historical context.
Of course, many thought Sampras was as good as finished last year and then up he popped with a 14th grand slam title at Flushing Meadows, beating his greatest rival Andre Agassi in the final.
But he has not played a single competitive match since, despite recurring promises to the contrary. So to hell with that 5% of doubt and dalliance. Now is the time for his playing obituary.
In terms of the Open era Sampras, with his seven Wimbledon titles, five United States Opens and two Australian Opens, stands supreme. Sweden’s Bjorn Borg with 11 (all at Roland Garros or Wimbledon) comes nearest but Agassi, by winning the French Open in 1999, achieved something his fellow American never will, namely the full set of grand slam titles.
In 1996 Sampras appeared to be on the way to completing the same feat. In the second round in Paris he defeated Spain’s Sergi Bruguera, the French Open champion in 1993 and 1994, over five sets. He then reached the last four with two more gigantic five-set victories over fellow Americans — Todd Martin in the third round and Jim Courier, another two-times French champion, in the quarterfinals — with a more elementary one against Scott Draper between. It really did have the feel that history was in the making.
But later that evening Boris Becker’s former mentor Ion Tiriac, the man who shoots bears for fun, had no doubts. ”Pete’s blown,” he said over supper. ”His tank is empty. He’s running on vapour.”
So it proved, the young Russian Yevgeny Kafelnikov brushing him aside in straight sets. Worse still, a few weeks later Sampras lost to the Dutchman Richard Krajicek in the Wimbledon quarterfinals.
Though Sampras never admitted to it, any further serious efforts to capture the world’s premier clay-court title might well have prevented his winning a further four successive Wimbledon titles. Quite simply he gave up on clay.
Of course, many other great players have never won the French Open: Becker, Stefan Edberg, John McEnroe, John Newcombe and Jimmy Connors. But the asterisk against Sampras’s name will always niggle for, if he had won the French, the claim that he has been the second greatest player ever would carry far greater weight.
Five or so years ago a poll of leading players past and present, together with a group of tennis writers, voted Sampras the best player in the Open era, although this was before Agassi, having slipped into near oblivion, had won the French and joined Roy Emerson, Rod Laver, Fred Perry and Don Budge in that exclusive club of men who have won all four grand slam titles.
Would Sampras be voted ahead of Agassi now? Almost certainly he would, if only for his seven Wimbledon titles, a tournament beautifully described by the American journalist Chris Clarey as that ”anachronistic yet somehow seminal tournament that he [Sampras] has dominated like no other man in the last century”.
But greatest of all time? No. There seems little doubt that, had Laver not turned professional in 1963, thereby becoming ineligible to play the major championships for five years, Sampras would still be chasing the slam record. The Australian, who won 11 of the world’s major titles, including two calendar slams in 1962 and 1969, might have extended this total to 20 or more. Laver also spent rather more time and effort applying himself to the intricacies of clay than Sampras ever did.
So where does Sampras stand? To quote Clarey again: ”For those of us unfortunate enough to be born too late to watch the Rocket, we will always have Sampras in our memory banks, making a terribly demanding game look easy.” Easier, in fact, than his parting. Damn that 5%. —