Why Pete Sampras Ruled

By Sumir

Think of every athlete you have heard of or read about for the past few years. Now rank them according to their relative publicity over the time period. What names might be on that list? Most likely Michael Jordan. Lately, Kobe Bryant. Tiger Woods, maybe. Michael Vick. Anna Kournikova. Barry Bonds. Derek Jeter.

For a decade, Pete Sampras quietly dominated the world of men's tennis, yet he probably isn't even on your list. When he won his first major at age 19, Pete was a nobody: a young, shy man who didn't know how to handle his victory and the instant fame it brought him. For better or for worse, that moment, more than anything else, was what defined the rest of Sampras's career. Always a reserved, withdrawn man, Sampras was decidedly at odds with the man who will go down in history as his nemesis: Andre Agassi.

(Sometimes I wonder if anyone remembers the old Andre Agassi? You know, the one with a shock of long hair whipping around as fast as his service returns? The one that looked like he would be the John McEnroe of our generation? The one with the glaring orange rackets and outfits that made him look like a road construction size on drugs? The one who, ironically, ended up being more like Pete?)

That's who America wanted. Someone flashy. Someone with attitude. Someone fit for Vince McMahon's wrestling business. Instead, they got Pete Sampras, who justifiably felt like he got no respect for the majority of his 15-year career. Through the course of 14 Grand Slams, Sampras could hardly come at terms with himself, much less the expectations of an entire country.

Quietly, Sampras dominated the world of tennis, yet you could argue that Anna Kournikova was a much more recognized household name. What's amazing is that despite the personal demons and lack of respect, Sampras rose to became the man to beat in modern tennis. His blistering serve and solid basics are the stuff of teach-yourself-tennis videos. Relentless and methodical to a fault, it is no wonder the majority of A.D.D.-ridden Americans never warmed up to him.

It is easy to dismiss Sampras as merely a boring technical player. I had a chance to see him practice at the Los Angeles Tennis Center at UCLA a few times and it was only after I watched him in person, for an extended period of time, that I realized what it was about him.

You might call it "grace": the sort of effortless skill that the best athletes of any sport possess. Pete Sampras made the hardest shots look easy. He took the strain out of tennis. At his peak, it was like he was playing only against himself; his opponent was inconsequential.

But there was strain, if only on the inside. For a record six years in a row, Sampras sat in his lonely throne atop the ATP rankings, no doubt feeling the pressures of being the best. His fall was as routine as his victories on court. There were no cracks in his facade. No outbursts. No problems in his personal life. He just ran out of gas.

Even at his worst in years, Sampras was far better than most. His 2002 US Open victory - his last major title, against Agassi, no less - was akin to Michael Jordan's buzzer-beater in the last game of his career. And unlike Jordan, there won't be any comebacks. At 32, Sampras is done.

After all, what else has he left to prove? He carried himself with a reserved nobility; he was a refined, overpowering talent few could hang with. Pete, if you ever run across this... you were the reason I retained my interest in the game after I stopped playing. Thanks for the memories.