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Posted on: December 03rd, 2002

Sampras does a Lazarus - [Dec 3, 2002]

- petepage

Having watched in person at Melbourne Park, Roland Garros and Wimbledon as Thomas Johansson, Albert Costa and Lleyton Hewitt won the year's first three grand slam titles, the United States Open final for this viewer was a bedroom affair. September. Early morning. Remote control. Warm doona. Bleary eyes.

Bleary, not teary, it should be emphasised, but then again any misty tendencies could have been excused. For if Pete Sampras' victory against his great rival Andre Agassi was not one of the more emotional moments of the sporting year, then Mick Malthouse merely had MCG grit in his eyes after the siren on grand final day.

First, a little perspective. Unlike jockey Damien Oliver, Sampras had not just lost a brother, but his dignity was rapidly going the way of his hairline. Sampras was as low as he had been since his great rise had gathered pace 13 years earlier. He had claimed the 13th of his record 14 grand slam titles at Wimbledon in 2000, and not won a tournament of any size in 33 attempts and 26 months since.

In April, Yevgeny Kafelnikov had advised an immediate retirement, suggesting Sampras was soiling his reputation with so many losses. In New York, Greg Rusedski had just announced ungraciously that the present Pete Sampras was "not the same player" as the champion with a strong claim to being rated the greatest of all time.

At Wimbledon, this correspondent had also declared a touch prematurely that Sampras "would be lucky to win a family round-robin right now", let alone another major title.

Still, the 31-year-old had just been humiliated on grass by 145th-ranked lucky loser George Bastl, and been ridiculed for reading supportive notes from his pregnant wife, Bridgette, at changeovers.

Hairy-chested former players were left asking, with obvious contempt, what sort of man needs to rely on his wife to win a tennis match? Surely he should retire now with what self-respect was still left?

The situation failed to improve in the pre-Open months that followed. Sampras had lost to young Frenchman Paul-Henri Mathieu in the Long Island lead-up event, and was on the verge of tumbling from the top 50, having won justsix of his previous 16 matches

The outlook was so grim that Sampras' self-defence - that he was still capable of great tennis, that he could beat any player on his day - was starting to sound sadly self-delusionary. Having bombed so badly in his pet event at Wimbledon, what chance did he possibly have on the unforgiving hardcourts of Flushing Meadows?

In the event, help came from an unexpected source: Hewitt, who had defeated the fading champion so comprehensively in the US Open final the previous year. This time, he was able to stretch Agassi to four tough semi-final sets on Super Saturday. Sampras, who had already disposed of young punks Tommy Haas and Andy Roddick in the preceding rounds, had an easier passage past Sjeng Schalken to confirm his half of the first over-30s men's decider since 1929.

His fifth US Open title was to follow, as New York provided the bookends to a magnificent career that has included six consecutive years at No. 1. The oldest US Open winner since 35-year-old Ken Rosewall in 1970 did so with 33 aces and 84 winners, and a score of 6-3, 6-4, 5-7, 6-4, before leaving the court and reappearing in the stands to embrace Bridgette, his staunchest supporter and now mother of the couple's first son, Christian Charles.

To Bridgette, Sampras apparently whispered: "I love you. Thank you. You kept me together." To the crowd, he beamed: "I guess I'm back", while accepting a fifth US trophy before a sellout crowd of 23,157 at Arthur Ashe Stadium.

Later, he admitted: "This might be my biggest achievement. This one might take the cake. I never thought anything would surpass Wimbledon, but to come here
and play like this, it's awesome. To come through the year I've had and win the US Open, that's pretty sweet."

Not to mention, surprising, remarkable, romantic, poetic, and a fairytale of almost Ivanisevic proportions. Agassi was fitter, ranked higher, less obviously in decline. But Flushing Meadows, as Bridgette had written in the note her husband carried in his racquet bag, is Pete's "house". And, as on-court announcer Tony Trabert announced during the trophy presentation: "The king is not dead."

So it was that there were four grand slam winners - one of them an Australian - in an unpredictable men's tennis year, but just one truly irresistible story.

It was viewed through sleepy eyes on a portable TV a hemisphere away, but the latest and perhaps last Sampras achievement was still more inspiring from a distance than anything seen up close.


Source: The Age, Australia

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