The real Sampras is intense, not dull
March 22, 2002
Pete Sampras eyeballed the Boxholders Club menu and looked up almost apologetically. ''You don't suppose I could just get a sandwich?'' he said softly.
Butch Buchholz grinned. ''I think they would pretty much make you anything you want, Pete,'' said the grand panjandrum of the Nasdaq-100 Open.
And so they did. Point is, Sampras didn't demand anything. Didn't pitch a fit, bang his fork on the table, or curse the menu-maker.
''That's good, breast of chicken would be good,'' was all Sampras said.
The Joe DiMaggio of tennis hasn't changed.
At 30, married a year and a half to actress Bridgette Wilson, Sampras concedes he doesn't leap up each morning ``looking to conquer the world.''
He has been displaced in the public eye by savage-serving Andy Roddick, 20, and Russia's Marat Safin, 22, and, of course, the ubiquitous Andre Agassi, a year Sampras' senior.
Sampras comes to Key Biscayne with his ''worst'' rating (No. 13) since he arrived as No. 19 a dozen years ago. But the all-time Grand Slam king (13) has lost no hunger.
''People always said I was dull,'' Sampras said. ``It was just easier for me back then. I hope they realize how intense I am now.''
Intense, and still majestic. Like DiMaggio, only in a smaller arena.
Oh, they are different in small ways. DiMag remained aggressively aloof until he died at 84. Sampras radiates a gentler shyness. At lunch, Buchholz brought up Sampras' magnificent '95 Davis Cup triple -- two singles victories and one in doubles against the Russians in front of foaming-at-the-mouth throngs in Moscow.
''Pete was dead tired and sick, and it was fantastic,'' Buchholz said.
``One of the sublime moments in tennis history.''Sampras nodded. ''As humble
as I always try to be,'' he said, laughing
now, ``I have to admit that was great.''
You won't hear him use the G-word often. No more often, in fact, than DiMag did in his 56-game hitting streak in '41. Both knew they were great. Neither ever had to declare it.
Time is testing Sampras now as it did DiMag as his golden career unwound with the '40s turning to '50s. Sampras has won nothing since 2000. Whoa. Way too many zeroes there to suit Pistol Pete.
That was also the year he married. That was the year John McEnroe said, perhaps peering back into his own first mating, ``Marriage was probably going to ruin Pete's tennis.''
Sampras demurred in his quiet way. ''Bridgette's amazing,'' he said, over the custom-made sandwich. ``She's an actress who turns down TV roles so she can support her husband in what he does. She travels with me a lot. She's the best thing that ever happened to me.''
Joe D. married an actress, too, but that's another and terribly bitter story. Besides, DiMaggio was long out of baseball then. Sampras sticks stubbornly in the most bitter competition men's tennis has seen since the doughty days of Bjorn Borg, Jimmy Connors and McEnroe.
It was the single, free-swinging Sampras, with his savage serve and furious forehands and seven Wimbledons, who rescued tennis from the vacuum. I don't forget Agassi. Who can? But Agassi would be here yesterday and gone today and his body didn't rack up the mileage Sampras' did.
So, Wednesday, a man at the lunch table mentioned that Agassi had said he hoped to play long enough so he and wife Steffi Graf's infant son Jaden would be able to remember him as a player.
''I don't think that's going to happen with us,'' Sampras said easily. ``I'm going to be out here awhile, and my wife is still working.''
DiMag hung on with the Yankees -- he was the Yankees -- until a teammate finally made up his mind for him. Slump-trapped in '50, an old and battle-weary 36, DiMag turned to teammate Hank Bauer near the batting cage and asked him what was wrong.
Bauer was and is brutally straightforward. (I know, because when Bauer was managing the Baltimore Orioles in the '60s, he would keep account of every day I came to spring training at Miami Stadium, and he was never wrong.) He assumed DiMag wanted a straight answer. ''You can't get [the bat] around anymore,'' Bauer said.
DiMag turned on an aching heel and walked away, burning. No scenes. He just left Bauer's side and retreated into the shell he wore, a pin-striped terrapin of a man, until he died at 84. Sampras has been hearing rumors of his demise as a Grand Slam factor for quite a spell now. 'I've been in `the twilight' for five years,'' he said. He smiled when he said it. Tightly, but it was still a smile.
Sampras clearly is more intent on slamming back into the Slam picture than obsessing on his legacy. That's unlike DiMaggio, who was exceptionally large on legacy and left a huge one with that 56-game streak and a .325 lifetime average.
Sampras isn't all that wrapped up in what Richard Ben Cramer, DiMaggio's biographer in The Hero's Life, called ''the hero game.'' But the fires have not departed his belly.
''Sure it's a little different,'' he said. ``Five years ago I needed to win. Now I want to win.''
He is said to be worth more than $80 million. He holds male tennis' record of 276 straight weeks in No. 1. The only active player among even the top eight names on that list is Agassi, with 87 weeks. Sampras and Agassi between them have won seven of the last 12 Key Biscayners; Agassi has four.
''So much has been made of our rivalry, and I still enjoy it, but that never was the most important thing to me,'' Sampras said. ``Andre was somebody else I wanted to beat, that's all. He's a great player, and that's the kind of player you most want to beat.''
Even shut out for going on two years, Sampras can still whack it. His top-speed serve this year timed out at 133 mph. Roddick (142), Taylor Dent (139), Greg Rudeski (138) and Mark Philippoussis (136) have hit harder.
''Basically, I'm out to win more Grand Slams,'' Sampras said. ``If I didn't think that, I wouldn't be here right now. My body is strong. Now it's up to the heart and mind.''
When Sampras does give it all up, no one will have to tell him he ''can't
get around anymore.'' He'll chuck it and walk away. Classily. Just like
DiMaggio.
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