Re: 八月Tennis
轉錄自
http://www.samprasfanz.com/cgi-bin/viewnews.cgi?id=1059146345
Agassi and Sampras: Two for the Ages - petepage
第一段
[7/25/03 Sally Jenkins August 2003 issue of TENNIS Magazine] The relationship
between Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi is that of two men so different that,
in a way, each serves as a looking glass for the other.
Andre and Pete; Pete and Andre. Never mind that their on-court rivalry has
been less exciting at times than their off-court struggle for the loyalty
and affection of tennis fans, that their personal exchanges are merely
cordial they are not great friends or, for that matter, great enemies. The
intriguing thing is that in the eyes of the public they are nearly
inseparable, each of them the measure of the other.
For some 15 years, theirs has been a fabulous game of trump: Sampras'
nonpareil serve against Agassi's stunning returns; Sampras with the running
rope of a forehand, Agassi with the steam-press stroke that is his backhand;
Agassi with flair, Sampras with discipline; Sampras all feel, Agassi all
fight. Finally, they've attained a like stature. If Sampras' legacy is 14
Grand Slam titles, Agassi's testament is having won all four major trophies.
And each can boast a unique claim to the No. 1 spot: Sampras
finished the season on top for an unprecedented six consecutive years, while
Agassi, at 33, is the oldest man in the modern era to be ranked the highest.
They are opposite, these two titans, even in mannerisms: Sampras, long and
tensile in a white shirt buttoned to his neck, his ancient Wilson racquet
black and dull as an iron skillet; Agassi a darty-eyed, pigeon-toed pirate
in denim or black, his untucked V-neck shirt billowing around his waist as
he waves a bright ceramic racquet. Sampras was always by the book, more
self-willed and accomplished. Agassi was ever the hooky player, or maybe
the actor searching for motivation, evading responsibility, and
breaking rules. They are similar in two ways: They both wear white socks,
and they both want to win everything, including a conversation.
Agassi's early brassiness, the dyed blond mane and exhibitionism, disguised
a more stubbornly substantial nature than anyone could have predicted. His
knee-jerk honesty and a surprisingly searching mind have not permitted him
to give up on a career that, despite long hiatuses, has been one long
self-exploration. Sampras' rebelliousness was buried beneath a cropped,
introverted neatness, his equanimity concealing an ulcerous hypersensitivity.
He's far more profane and driven than most would suspect.
Sampras liked to celebrate wins at the US Open by going to the Peter Luger
Steak House in Brooklyn and eating so much he made himself sick. His favorite
book remains The Catcher in the Rye, the story of a desperate, smart-alecky
loner who says, "Don't ever tell anybody anything."
Perhaps this dissimilarity accounts for the peculiar fact that Pete and Andre
have rarely played their best against each other on the right occasions. When
Sampras was great, Agassi was absent. When Agassi was finally fully present,
Sampras was already tired. Or so it seemed. Their overall record is 20-14,
advantage Sampras, and of their 34 matches only five were Grand Slam finals.
But in the last three years they finally made the rivalry a material thing--
both of them ready to live up to the moments
they shared in the spotlight. And in the 2001 US Open quarterfinals they
created an epic, just when we thought they had begun the long, slow fade
into retirement. It was as though they made a private accord to play for
a final prize.
The scoreboard on that September day in New York read 6-7 (7-9), 7-6 (7-2),
7-6 (7-2), 7-6 (7-5) Sampras. They may have been the best four sets of either
player's life, and even announcer John McEnroe was nearly struck speechless.
"I am lucky to be a commentator," he said humbly. "I am lucky to be here."
Then they went two rounds better in 2002, meeting in the final. Again Sampras
won in four, but it hardly mattered, both were victors over time and over a
field that was growing ever younger. As Agassi said, "We're still out here and
there's no getting around it."
Curiously, though, the only other period in which both players were at their
best at the same time was in a short but splendid span in 1995 when their
match record was square at eight wins apiece and they were at a youthful
peak. In late March of that year, they also agreed to a brief detente in
their rivalry to play a Davis Cup tie in Italy. It was an obscure but
telling episode, this uncharacteristic decision to take a buddy trip
together to play for their country.
The Italians had chosen a slow red-clay court in Palermo, and the Americans
knew that without a strong team they could easily lose. So Agassi and Sampras
struck a deal with the USTA: Each would abandon his Grand Slam preparation to
play only if the other agreed to as well, and if they could take the Concorde
to London and a private plane from there to Palermo. The USTA acceded to
their demands and booked the flights.
But first, a day before they were scheduled to leave, Agassi and Sampras met
in the final of the Lipton Championships (now the Nasdaq-100) at Key Biscayne,
Fla. Agassi won a three-setter and two weeks later attained the No. 1
ranking. After the match, he offered Sampras a lift to New York on his
private jet so they could get a decent night's sleep before traveling to Europe.
The two of them took so little time to shower and change that when they
jumped into Agassi's rented car, traffic leaving Key Biscayne was still
backed up. Agassi casually veered onto the breakdown lane and bypassed
the traffic, waving at the other drivers and the occasional bemused cop.
While Agassi drove, he and Sampras made awkward small talk, trying to find
something they had in common.
"Do you like Neil Diamond?" Sampras hazarded.
"You know, I do," Agassi said. "I do like Neil Diamond."
They moved on to talk shows. "Do you watch Sally Jessie?" Agassi asked.
"I watch her," Sampras said. "But I like Montel better. Do you like Montel?"
"I like Montel."
Soon they arrived on the tarmac at Miami International Airport where Agassi's
Citation 10, a burning tennis ball emblazoned on the tail, was waiting. They
climbed aboard and a flight attendant greeted them with food and drink.
Sampras was awed. He unwrapped a turkey sandwich and bit into it.
"You travel like this all the time?"
"It's the only way to do it," Agassi said. "It's going to add years to my
career."
Sampras' habitual austerity gave way. He rocked back in his deep leather
seat and swiveled it. "Oh man," he said. "I like the way you travel. What
does this cost?" They lapsed into a discussion of chartered hours versus
time in airports. Gradually, they relaxed and spent the rest of the flight
trading ATP tour gossip, and their strategies against players such as Michael
Chang, Boris Becker, and David Wheaton.
The next morning they met at Kennedy Airport and boarded the Concorde. As
they sat together they evaluated each other's and their own games. Sampras
wondered about Agassi's reliance on his coach of the time, Brad Gilbert.
"What does he do for you?" Sampras wanted to know. Agassi said that Gilbert
gave his game structure; previously, he had been a belter with no idea of
shot selection--he just "wracked it." Now, he had a blueprint to build points
and matches.
Sampras shrugged; all he wanted a coach to do was check his toss.
They were met in London by a VIP escort who gave them expedited forms to get
them through immigration quickly. Agassi, typically, figured that meant they
got to skip the paperwork. But Sampras paused at a counter to fill out his
entry card. Agassi waved him on, impatient. "Come on, we don't have to do
that."
"Yeah, we do," Sampras replied, correctly.
Outside, a limo waited to take them to a private terminal for the flight to
Palermo. But Agassi was hungry. He said, "Let's go to McDonald's."
"I don't think they have one here."
"Sure they do," he said. "It's on the outskirts of the airport."
Agassi directed the driver to McDonald's. Sampras and Agassi placed their
order at the drive-through window: Agassi wanted a couple of burgers. Sampras
ordered the same, and they both added Chicken McNuggets as an afterthought,
along with large fries and apple pies.
They spent four days in Palermo sitting side by side in identical USA
sweatshirts. Pete and Andre; Andre and Pete. But in the end the difference
between them showed, as it always did. After the USA won 3-0, the question
of dead rubbers arose. For Sampras it was a question of responsibility:
having decided to do this thing, he was going to do it right. For Agassi
it was a matter of love; he could only play if he cared, and he didn't care
about an exhibition.
Agassi came down with a case of the tweaks and a doctor's note. Sampras
played.
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