by Jim Plautz
The Monte Carlo Country Club sits on a hilltop above the opulent city offering a magnificent view of the Mediterranean. It has been judged the most beautiful club in the world, Donostia/San Sebastian an opinion not disputed by the 1,800 club members, who have access to the 40 tennis courts, modern clubhouse, squash, fitness center, swimming pool and restaurant. It is a place where world business is conducted over lunch amid the splendor of the French Riviera.
The Principality of Monaco is packed tightly into one square mile of land, 20% of which is land reclaimed from the Mediterranean Sea. The Country Club is in Roguebrune-Cap-Martin, a small town situated on the Principality’s eastern border. Built in 1928, center court stands on a tract of land once owned by Rex Ingram, a Hollywood filmmaker.
The Principality’s two ports are equipped to greet pleasure-boats: The Port Hercule offers mooring and anchoring possibilities for five hundred vessels some of which are extremely large. The Port of Fontvieille contains 160 reserved births limited to boats under 30 meters in length.
Monaco offers year around entertainment including opera, an internationally renowned dog show, concerts and firework festivals. The Monaco tennis masters series tournament is held in April, sandwiched between the Monte-Carlo Spring Art Festival and the world-famous Formula 1 Grand Prix in May. The tournament has grown in stature over the years. Initially a tune-up for the French Open held the following month, it is now a Super-9 tournament that offers double-points to participants in their quest for world ranking. It is a can’t-miss tournament in the men’s clay court season. All French Open hopefuls are in Monaco in April.
Carlos flew into the Nice-Côte-d’Azur International Airport Sunday afternoon and took the 10-minute helicopter ride to the Monica heliport. The ride over the sandy beaches and 300-foot yachts that dotted the French Riviera from Nice to Beauleu is breathtaking. A shuttle took him to the Columbus Hotel. Ambre was not due in until Wednesday.
“Agbu, it’s Carlos. I’m at the Columbus Hotel. Give me a call when you get the message.” Carlos left both the hotel number and his cell number. He looked forward to seeing his friend. Monte-Carlo is only a one-week tournament, which meant that there were no off days. Carlos had a 1st-round-bye into the second round and wasn’t scheduled to play until Tuesday afternoon, where he opened on center court. Tonight would be a good time to get together.
Ten minutes later the hotel phone rang. “Carlos, good to hear from you.”
“Where are you, pal? I was hoping we could get together tonight or tomorrow. I don’t play until Tuesday.”
“No-can-do, I’m still in Madrid on business. Can we get together Thursday for dinner? I have a friend that is hosting a party on his yacht.”
Carlos was disappointed. “It’s been a couple years, I guess another few days won’t hurt. I’ll see you Thursday unless I have a night match, and don’t forget to put Ambre on the guest list.”
Thursday, Carlos was fortunate to play in the early afternoon and easily dispatched Alberto Gomez to move into the quarterfinals. Ambre had spent the afternoon shopping. “Dressy casual, doesn’t mean sandals and tank tops,” she pointed out.
The cab driver dropped them off at the Port of Cap d’Ail, which is only ten minutes from Monaco. It was known as a choice destination for pleasure-boats, and this was indeed a pleasure boat. “Wow, it must be over a 150 feet,” Ambre exclaimed in awe when they saw the yacht.”
Agbu was watching for them and greeted his friend with a warm embrace. “Agbu, this is Ambre,” he said proudly when the two friends parted.
Agbu greeted Ambre in French fashion with air kisses to both checks. “The newspaper photographs do not do you justice,” Agbu gushed. “You are more beautiful in person.” This is one, sexy lady, Agbu thought. If she wasn’t with Carlos, I might …
“Are you sure you are Spanish and not French?” Ambre countered, obviously pleased with the warm welcome. She guessed Agbu was about six feet tall, lean and not bad looking. He didn’t have Carlos’ drop-dead looks and charm, but he had a presence about him. There was something about his eyes that set him apart.
They held eye contact a moment more than necessary, until Carlos broke the mood. “Okay, that’s enough of this. Agbu, you haven’t changed a bit. You never could keep your eyes off the girls.”
“You haven’t either, buddy, you always ended up with the most beautiful girl and I was left with second best. Anybody hungry?”
It was just like old times for Carlos and Agbu. They picked up their friendship without hesitation or awkwardness. Agbu had followed Carlos’ tennis career through the newspapers and was proud of his friend’s success. Carlos was pleased that Agbu was apparently doing well, although it was no surprise. Agbu was always the smart one in their gang of thieves.
“Was it six years ago since you left Vitoria?” Agbu said aloud, not expecting an answer. “It seems like just yesterday that we were stealing beer and cigarettes from that little store.” Neither wanted to mention that last evening when they had robbed the store, ending up with just 25 Euros and boxes of drugs.
“Yeah, it’s fun looking back, especially since we both are still alive and healthy,” Carlos mused, “at least we’re not in jail. Did you get what you wanted, my friend? I only wanted to play tennis, and you were going into the family business. Did it work out that way for you?”
Agbu was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking back over the past six years. “Yes, I got most of what I wanted and now am in a position to help my people. Money is no longer a problem, and with money, I can build the grass-roots movement that is needed to obtain an independent Basque homeland.”
“Then, what’s bothering you my friend? Why do you appear sad when you should be happy?”
Agbu’s eyes glistened as he answered. “Because my brothers Anton and Raul are dead, and won’t be with me to celebrate our victory. Anton was the true leader of our people before he was assassinated in Mexico.”
Carlos was about to ask Agbu what happened when they saw Ambre coming back with a plate of hors d’oeuvres. Agbu’s mood changed at once. “That girl is a fox, Carlos. She might test our friendship.”
“Never, my friend. No girl is more important than our friendship. In fact, your timing is excellent,” Carlos said with a wink as he made a feint at Agbu’s midsection. “It’s time I moved on.”
“Gracious, my friend,” Agbu replied, accepting the invitation.
“Am I interrupting?” Ambre asked as she sat down. “I assume you have been talking about me,” she said with knowing look.
The evening passed quickly and soon it was time to leave. “Agbu, I need to get back and get my beauty sleep. I play at 1 PM against Roddick. His serve is fast enough without me giving him any advantage. Are you ready, Ambre?”
Ambre hesitated for a moment and Agbu took advantage. “Ambre, I would be happy to see you home later if you care to stay awhile longer. The party is just beginning.”
“Do you mind, Carlos? I’m really not tired.”
“No, go ahead and stay. I’m sure my friend will take good care of you. Agbu, it’s been great seeing you again. Let me know if you need tickets to the French Open or anything. We need to keep in touch.”
Ambre kissed Carlos goodbye, and watched as he walked down the pier to a waiting cab. She knew it was a kiss goodbye, and she knew it is what Carlos wanted.
“Ambre, let’s see what’s happening down below in the owner’s suite,” Agbu said as he led her downstairs.
The next day Carlos beat Andy Roddick in a third set tiebreaker, after losing the first set 6-2. It had taken a set to shake the cobwebs. Ambre had not come back last night, which did not surprise him.
Carlos found a note when he returned to the hotel. “Sorry I missed your match, I hope you won! Agbu invited me on a two-day cruise to the Greek Isles. I hope you don’t mind. Good luck! See you in Paris! Always, Ambre.”
It had been great fun while it lasted, Carlos reflected to himself without regret.
Pete’s final tune-up fo
r the French Open juniors was a May 2nd Challenger event in Ponte Vedra, Fl. Challenger tournaments offer prize money between $50,000 and $75,000 to attract top players. Pete managed to win two matches before running into Fernando Gonzales of Spain, a touring pro ranked #29 in the world. Gonzalez was rehabilitating a bad shoulder and using this tournament as a warm-up for the pro tour. Pete took him to three sets before losing 3-6, 7-5, 6-2.
Pete called me in Paris after the match. “I played pretty well all week, but Gonzalez just wore me down. You can’t believe how difficult it is to hit a winner against this guy.”
“It sounds like just the type of match you needed,” I replied. “Are you ready for Paris?”
“I’m looking forward to it, Dad. I still can’t believe I’m going to play in the French Open, even if it is just the juniors.”
“You’ll do just fine in Paris,” I said encouragingly.
The French Police had been watching the yacht for some time and routinely took pictures of guests arriving or departing.
The next morning two agents routinely reviewed the pictures taken the previous evening. “Look at this one,” the older man said holding up a photo of Carlos and Ambre kissing goodbye on the lower deck. “Not bad!”
The second agent was a tennis buff and recognized both players immediately. “Isn’t she a beauty?” he commented. “I’d like to play a couple sets with her in the bedroom,” he added.
“Keep your mind out of the gutter,” the other analyst answered. “The question is why were Ambre and Carlos there in the first place. Do they know Al-Qaeda drug smugglers own the yacht?”
“For all we know they might have been there just there for the food, but let’s run it up the pole and let somebody upstairs decide.”
“Why not give her a break? Something like this could damage her reputation if it gets out,” the tennis buff suggested.
“That’s not our problem, besides, I want to know who that other guy is, the one in the background.”
A week later in Warsaw, Poland, Ambre savored her victory as she shook hands with Kim Clijsters of Belgium. The 6-4, 3-6, 7-5 win was particularly satisfying as she came back from a 4-1, 3rd set deficit. It was her fourth title of the year, but only her first on red clay. She would play Rome next week and then take a week off before the French Open. Everything was falling into place.
Ambre waved to the small crowd that had stayed for the awards ceremony and followed Clijsters into the locker room. “Nice win, Ambre,” a WTA official said as Ambre collected her personal items from her locker. “Before you leave, I need to get a sample from you.”
Andre panicked. She wasn’t prepared. “Can’t this wait?” Ambre replied hastily. “I’m not feeling well. I really need to get back to the hotel.”
“It will only take a couple minutes, Ambre. You know the rules.”
Ambre knew the rules. Players could be tested up to 12 times a year on a random basis. They were automatically suspended for one year if they refused a request. Tour officials had tightened the loopholes since England’s Greg Rusedski had won his appeal in 2004.
“Give me a minute,” Ambre said as grabbed a small packet from her makeup kit and headed for the bathroom. “I’m still dehydrated from the match.” The official should have followed Ambre into the bathroom, but she didn’t. She did not see Ambre swallow the four capsules and drink as much water as she could hold.
Super Quick Caps add various proteins and natural herbs such as Gingko Bulba to your bloodstream. The frequent urination resulting from the water intake quickly reduces the toxins in the urine that are indicative of drug and amphetamine use. The quick fix is good for approximately five hours.
Ambre waited as long as she could before she came out of the rest room. “Okay, let’s have it, we might as well get this over with.” Ambre took the capsule and returned to a stall. Ideally, Ambre would have been warned that she would be tested and would have been better prepared. In Miami she had substituted synthetic urine that contained all the ingredients of natural urine, and included a heat pad to warm the temperature to body temperature. There was no time today.
She passed as much urine as she could before filling the vial. There was nothing else she could do. She knew the odds of her beating the test were 50-50 at best. She had broken several of the guidelines recommended by the manufacturer. Super Quick Tabs were to be taken 45 minutes before the test. Ambre was only able to stall for 20 minutes.
Ambre had smoked marijuana and free-based cocaine the previous evening and knew she was in trouble. The manufacturer recommended abstinence for 48 hours before a test. The coke shouldn’t be a problem. It is naturally cleared from the body anywhere from a couple hours to three days maximum, depending upon weight and activity. Ambre had home-tested herself several times and found that she tested negative after 14-16 hours. She was cutting it close. Traces of marijuana stayed in her bloodstream anywhere from three to 10 days. Let’s hope the Super Quick Caps worked, she thought.
Drug testing is commonly a four-step process: collection, screening, confirmation, and review. The tour official that collected Ambre’s urine sample did everything by the book. She placed a temperature strip around the vial to ensure that the contents were at body temperature, and then placed a tamper-evident tape over the specimen container. Ambre initialized the attached form to show chain of custody. The container was locked in a safe overnight and then hand-delivered by the collector to the drug testing facility. The lab technician signed a receipt to show who handled the specimen and to ensure the drug results are not called into question due to improper handling.
Cozart is a specialist medical diagnostics company that specializes in laboratory drug testing. The specimen was tested for drugs and drug metabolites and the preliminary results were known within minutes. Ambre had tested positive.
Specimens that test positive for drugs in the initial screen are examined further in the laboratory through a second analytic technique called gas chromatography/mass spectrometry (GC/MS), which is actually a combination of two specialized techniques. Technicians use gas chromatography to separate the various substances in the specimen, and then make a positive identification through mass spectrometry. The results were forwarded to a specialist to determine if illicit drugs were the cause of the positive test results. The specialist, who in this case was a medical doctor with 20 years experience in the field, confirmed the results.
Ambre’s cocaine level came back at 315 ng/ml, slightly above the 300 ng/ml limit set by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. By itself, Ambre might have appealed the result, but the marijuana level was 97 ng/ml, almost double the 50 ng/ml guideline. It would be hard to overturn the test result on appeal.
Ambre had just won her semifinal match in Rome when she was summoned into the Tournament Director’s office. She knew it was bad news when she saw Joan Wilson, the WTA Tour Director and the WTA attorney seated at the desk with Pam Shriver, the players’ union representative.
“Ambre, please sit down,” Joan started, “we have disturbing news. You have tested positive for two banned substances and are looking at a probable suspension. Do you have anything you might want to say at this time in your defense?”
Pam Shriver interrupted. “Ambre, I strongly urge you not to say anything until you have the benefit of legal counsel. Nothing you say now will change their conclusions. The union can help you fight this down the road.”
Ambre nodded and remained silent.
“In that case, Ambre, we have no choice but to recommend you be suspended from professional tennis for twelve months. Our attorneys feel the test results are irrefutable. You, of course, may appeal and have a hearing within 45 days.”
Ambre beat another Belgian, Justine Henin-Hardenne, in the finals for her second clay court title in succession. She was playing the best tennis of her career, which was good enough to win in Paris.
Ambre filed her appeal. She had little chance of winning, but the inevitable suspension would
not be enforced until after the French Open.
Chapter 25
The French Open Juniors