by Jim Plautz
Total prize money Roland Garros is 13.5M Euros. The women’s singles champion earns $867,000, $13,000 less than the men’s champion. Lisa earned $3,000,000 in three hours.
Saturday I was cheering and laughing with the rest of the 15,000 fans after Lisa’s victory, and her post match picture-taking love-in with the crowd. As Lisa left the court, an elderly, Japanese gentleman asked for a moment of our time. “Mr. Simpson, I beg your pardon. My name is Motokuni Hasegawa, president of Nikon. Our company is impressed with your daughter’s tennis ability and how the fans have taken to her. She is very popular. We are prepared to offer Lisa one million Euros if she will endorse our camera.”
“Mr. Hasegawa, you have my full attention. Let’s talk.”
“Yes, but time is of the essence. We want to start our campaign on Monday.” It was obvious that Nikon wanted the exposure they would get in the United States on Memorial Day.
Three hours later we had a deal. Mary and I had learned quite a bit about the sports endorsement business in those three hours. One call to the World Tennis Federation gave us access to agents and promoters that were able to place a value on the Japanese offer. The WTA advisors agreed that Lisa was no Michael Jordan, but she was a hot commodity this week. They established the value of the camera endorsement at 2.5M Euros, approximately three million US dollars. It was left unsaid that her market value would drop significantly if she lost her next match.
Lisa joined us after her press conference and was enthusiastic about the opportunity, especially when she heard there would be television commercials. “I’m tired of seeing Sharapova every time I turn on the TV.”
Lisa would be busy the next two days. This evening there would be a photo-shoot to prepare ads for newspapers and magazines. Sunday, Nikon scheduled an all-day shooting session for television commercials that would start showing Monday. Mary stepped in at this point and insisted that they had Lisa for only six hours Sunday, no more. “She needs to practice and get some rest. It won’t do anyone any good if she doesn’t win Monday.” There were no objections.
Nikon assigned four people to call media outlets and arrange for print space, advertising slots and to coordinate all the details needed to market their concept. I marveled at their efficiency and the amount of work that was being done in a small amount of time. We signed the contracts making Lisa an instant millionaire.
“Lisa, we need another shot of you taking a picture with the Nikon camera.” Lisa had changed out of her tennis clothes and thrown on shorts and a tank top. Her hair was still wet and could have used a brush, but she still looked pretty good as only a teenager can. Her smile lit up the room as she grabbed her camera and flashed pictures of everyone in the room. The Nikon photographer was taking her picture at the same time.
“What are you planning on doing with this?” Mary asked. “Certainly this isn’t what you plan to use in your ads, is it?”
“No, of course not, but the cutoff for tonight’s late news is coming up and we want to give them something they can use with our press release announcing our advertising campaign. The networks will give us a lot of free exposure tonight and by tomorrow we will be ready to begin rolling out the campaign. Trust me; we aren’t spending $80M without doing this right.”
Lisa was beaming, but I couldn’t help think we could have asked for more than $3M.
Monday finally arrived. The last two days had been a blur for everyone. While I watched Lisa warm up, I was amazed that she looked so good. This morning she had slept until 11, obviously needing the rest after two, sixteen-hour days. In addition to the Nikon shoots, everyone wanted to interview her. Yesterday she appeared live on Good Morning America, which gave her an opportunity to tell the world how much she liked the Nikon line of cameras. It was a spontaneous endorsement from a young woman that came across as genuine and likable. Lisa loved it. “Dad, it’s what I have been dreaming about since I started playing tennis, let me enjoy it.”
I just hoped fall wouldn’t be too hard if the bubble burst.
The bubble wasn’t going to burst today. With the crowd screaming in delight, Lisa played her best tennis of the tournament and thoroughly dominated the Russian, Vera Zvonareva 6-3, 6-3. Lisa was through to the quarterfinals.
The post match celebration was another love-in between Lisa and the crowd, with flash bulbs popping everywhere. Lisa did her now, trademark routine, waving and taking pictures in each direction, and constantly beaming with her broad smile.
The biggest upset on the women’s side was that Lindsay Davenport, the #1 seed, upset the #14 seed, Kim Clijsters of Belgium. Davenport had struggled in all of her previous matches this week while Clijsters, a two-time French Open finalist, had breezed through her the first three rounds. Davenport was 0-6 lifetime against her opponent and clay was her worst surface. Few people had given Davenport a chance, but she came back after dropping the first set.
The men went according to form. Federer, Nadal and Carlos all won in straight sets.
“We found the doctor, at least we know where he lives. Do you want us to pick him up?” the agent asked.
“Are you sure?” Chris asked.
“Yep, Roberto Munyo.” He has lived in Paris for five years but was born in Bilbao, Spain, the heart of Basque country. Your hunch about checking military service records paid off. Dr. Munyo served four years as a medic in Iraq and apparently isn’t a real, board-certified doctor. We are waiting for a fingerprint match, but he’s our guy.”
“No, don’t pick him up yet. Let’s put a 24-hour tail on him and see if he leads us to Agbu. It’s possible that Agbu is on the move and calls this guy from a new location every time he needs him.”
This was a decision that would come back to haunt Chris.
Agbu wanted to move Sunday, but was still too weak. “Walking might break open the stitches and set your recovery back a week” the doctor advised. Agbu decided to give it one more day. It was only a matter of time before the authorities would find Munyo and track him back to this apartment. Maybe it was time to dispose of the good doctor?
That afternoon Agbu was told about the Basque crackdown and knew the authorities were closing in. He was relieved to hear that his uncle and friends had escaped. He needed them and the supplies he ordered to implement his plan. Other than his uncle, nobody from home knew his current location, but it was time to move. “Juan, one last favor and I will get out of your home. Find me a scooter; I’m still too weak to walk far. While you are out, call the doctor and ask him to come here at seven this evening. I want him to look at my wound one more time.”
The scooter was delivered at six and by six thirty Agbu was on his way. “Thanks, Juan, I won’t forget what you have done for me,” as they embraced. “Tell the doctor I couldn’t wait, but I left him instructions on the bed about how he can reach me. It’s better that you don’t know where I’ll be, amigo.”
Agbu was at his new hideout when local TV reported the news about the explosion in an apartment building in downtown Paris. There were five dead including two CIA agents who apparently were raiding the apartment when the explosion occurred.
Agbu realized how lucky he had been to escape in time. Juan, I’m sorry, but it was necessary. You would have told them about the scooter and my calls to Enrique.
Day 9 (Tuesday)
The Women’s Quarterfinals