Double Fault at Roland Garros
Page 19
Now, three months later, Pete knew his game was even worse. Part of it was the switch to the new backhand, but it was more than that. The teaching pros were spending less time with him; a sure sign that they thought his future was limited. Yesterday he had been demoted to the 4th court and practiced with three fifteen year-olds. His confidence was shot.
Pete woke up this morning and resolved to give it one more shot. Next week there was a double elimination Saddlebrook tournament. This would allow him to show Sammy and the other pros that they had given up on him too soon. There were only a couple boys in camp that Pete had not beaten and he was determined to change that statistic.
Monday morning he felt ready. Pete normally went home on the weekends, but this time he stayed and practiced like never before; ten hours on Saturday and eight on Sunday. He had never hit so many backhands in his life, and he was starting to feel comfortable coming over the ball on service returns. He was hitting his volleys and overheads with authority. He looked forward to the tournament.
Pete drew his friend Craig in the first match. It was a good draw. Despite losing in a challenger match a couple months ago, Pete seemed to have Craig’s number ever since he had beaten him in that New Port Richey tournament two years ago. He usually played well against Craig.
Pete started fast and jumped to a 4-1 lead before his Canadian friend slowly clawed his way into the match. He held serve easily and got the service break back when Pete was long on a backhand passing shot. The momentum of the match had turned. Craig was playing well and Pete started to lose confidence. Craig started to kick every serve in the ad-court high to Pete’s backhand and follow it to the net. Pete had no answer. The ball was getting too high too allow him to come over his return with the one-hander, and left Pete trying to slice his returns low to Craig’s feet. Craig easily took the volleys inside the service line and put away the weak returns.
On Pete’s second serves, Craig chipped and charged to Pete’s backhand side, forcing Pete to come up with passing shots. Pete’s game collapsed under the pressure and his fragile confidence was gone. He lost 5-7, 1-6.
After congratulating Craig on a well-played match, Pete sat alone on the bench slumped over in despair, realizing the significance of this loss. Tears glistened in his eyes and he knew his days at Saddlebrook were numbered. Unless a miracle happened soon, Pete’s was finished as a competitive tennis player.
Lost in his own thoughts, Pete was not aware that someone had walked up behind him. He turned when he heard the familiar voice.
“Hi Pete, remember me?”
Ambre had won the Orange Bowl championship. At 15, she was the youngest women’s winner in the eighteen-and-under age bracket since Chris Evert in 1971. She also fell in love with America.
“Let’s stay a few days, Coach,” she pleaded after the match. “I want to go to Disney World. Can we? Can we?”
“Okay Ambre, you deserve it. That’s the best tennis you have ever played. We can spend three days at Disney and another in day in Tampa. There is a tennis camp I would like you to visit.”
Ambre had been to Disneyland Paris, but that didn’t compare to the Orlando theme parks. The Magic Kingdom was great, but Epcot and MGM Studios were better and Animal Kingdom and the water park were awesome. Ambre made friends easily and met several families staying at the Disney Hotels. After the first day at Disney, her coach stayed by the hotel pool and Ambre was on her own with her new friends. She had a blast.
“Why do we have to see this tennis camp?” she asked as they were making the 70-mile drive to Tampa. “I wanted to stay another day in Orlando.”
“There’s a tennis camp called Saddlebrook that I want you to see,” Coach replied. The Harry Hopman junior program comes highly recommended plus they get a lot of touring pros stopping here. You probably heard that Pete Sampras was at Bollettieri’s when he was a kid, but after he turned pro he bought a house at Saddlebrook and played there. Let’s take a look and see what they have. You might want to come here some day.”
Saddlebrook Tennis center is part of a gated, residential community just North of Tampa, just East of 1-75 on Highway 54. The guard at the gate had them on his guest list and gave them a visitor’s pass, brochure and directions.
“Wow, some of these homes are awesome,” Coach exclaimed.
Ambre was looking at the map. “It says here that they have two eighteen-hole golf courses, three swimming pools, four restaurants, 27 clay courts, 8 hard courts and 2 grass courts. Nearby they have horseback riding and fishing. At least there is something else to do besides play tennis. This place is out in the sticks.”
It’s only twenty minutes from Tampa and 75 minutes from Disney World,” Coach pointed out as they pulled up in front of the hotel which also housed the corporate offices.
Dick Browning, the General Manager of the entire facility, met them at the front desk and proceeded to give them a quick tour of the facility. They finished the tour at the Tennis clubhouse where they were turned over to Fred Liu, the Director of Tennis.
“Ambre, I have heard a lot about you. Congratulations on your Orange Bowl win. That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“Thanks,” Ambre murmured politely. She was accustomed to the compliments.
“Recognize that woman playing on the second court?”
Ambre thought one of the woman on the left looked familiar, but wasn’t sure until she turned their way. “That’s Martina Hingis. Wow, why is she here?”
“She lives five minutes west of here in Wesley Chapel, and trains here when she is home. Right now she is getting ready to launch a comeback. Hingis hadn’t played in almost three years, but she says her is almost 100% recovered from her foot injury.”
Was it a foot injury or was it the William Sisters, Ambre wondered to herself. She had heard the rumors that Hingis had retired because her all-court game didn’t match up against the new, hard-hitting girls like Davenport and the Sisters. She sure has great groundstrokes, Ambre thought as she watched Hingis hit.
“That girl she is playing with us Conchita Perez, one of our top juniors. Giving our juniors the opportunity to play with pros like Hingis and Sampras are one of the benefits we offer at Saddlebrook. Conchita is 16 and made it to the finals of the European Championships last year. Do you know her, Ambre?”
“I heard about her, but I don’t think we ever played,” Ambre replied politely.
“I asked them to join you for lunch, just the three of you. Feel free to ask them anything you want. I’ll warn you, Martina is our best ambassador.”
“That would be great,” Ambre replied with genuine interest. Hingis had always been one of her role models. “I have always wanted to meet her. Will Martina mind if I ask her about her injuries and if she is going to try a come back?”
“Not at all, in fact, while we wait for them to finish let’s take a look at our training facilities. That’s one on the reasons Martina likes it here.”
Ambre was still watching Martina and Conchita hit. It seemed to her that Martina was ready now. She was hitting the ball hard and her movement was as good.
Three hours later they were in the car and heading to the Tampa Airport for a direct Delta Flight to Paris. “Well Ambre, what do you think?”
“I like it. Martina rides horses, plays a little golf and does a lot of things to make training fun. This will be a great place if I ever decide to come to the United States.”
“Well, if it’s okay with you, I enrolled you in their camp starting this summer, after you finish school. I think a change in scenery will do you good.”
Five months later, Ambre was off to Saddlebrook, arriving just in time to see the last few games of Pete’s first match in the Saddlebrook tournament.
Pete turned and saw this beautiful girl with the beaming smile, and his heart stopped. Had she watched the match?
“It’s my cheerleader from the Orange Bowl,” Pete said as he smiled up at Ambre. ‘What are you doing here?” he asked lamely.
“I live here, starting
today. I just got in an hour ago.”
Pete’s heart started pumping faster and faster and his spirits soared. Somehow he found the courage to ask her to join him for lunch.
“Sure, I’d love to. You can tell me what happened to your backhand. You had a great two-hander the last time I saw you, and now you’re flailing away like you’re trying to swat mosquitoes. Why did you change?”
There was no film, no slow motion, and no analysis; just a teenager’s insight.
“I don’t know anymore, Ambre, but I just changed back.”
Chapter 17
Ambre and Pete at Saddlebrook