by Jim Plautz
Day 13 (Saturday)
The Women’s Finals
The five-minute wait in the tunnel before entering Philippe Chatrier court seemed to last forever. Ambre and Lisa dressed in separate areas of the locker room and barely acknowledged each other as they waited in the tunnel. It was more than pre-match nerves and it wasn’t gamesmanship. These two young women did not like each other. The icy relationship was apparent to the television cameras and was picked up on by the commentators. Bud Collins suggested the match be rescheduled for Siberia.
Lisa walked out of the tunnel onto Court Chatrier smiling and waving to the crowd. Ball boys carried her tennis bag and a beautiful bouquet of roses. The crowd stood and cheered. I was so proud.
Moments later the French crowd greeted Ambre with a chorus of boos and jeers. Only last week she had been darling of France. Now she was seen as a villain and the ex-girlfriend of Agbu, the terrorist who had nearly succeeded in blowing up Roland Garros. There was no smile on Ambre’s face. She was all business.
Agbu rode his scooter ten kilometers to the small café where he had agreed to meet Muhammad. He arrived early and was pleased to see that Enrique was waiting with a large briefcase at his side.
“How is the leg today? I see you are limping.”
“I’m fine. Did you bring the canisters?”
“Just as you instructed,” Enrique answered, pointing at the briefcase. “There is enough in there to cover a square mile if delivered properly.”
“Well done. We’ll let them worry about delivery. I really don’t care.”
Muhammad and two Al-Qaeda operatives joined them at the table.
“Agbu, it’s good to see you again, my friend. I have been reading about you in the newspapers,” he said glancing down at Agbu’s leg. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Agbu replied, embracing his associate. Agbu pointed at the briefcase. “This is everything you asked for. Are you ready on your end?”
The Al-Qaeda leader was obviously pleased as he briefly inspected the containers. “Yes, but we have some details that we need to discuss. Let’s go over the plans one more time.” An hour later everyone knew his role. The strategy was simple. Agbu and his group would create panic inside the stadium, forcing the fans to flee Roland Garros into the Al-Qaeda trap. It was a good plan.
“I don’t trust him,” one of the Al-Qaeda men said aloud as Agbu and Enrique departed. “He’s up to something.”
“No matter,” Muhammad replied. “That’s why I didn’t tell him what we are planning to do with the anthrax.”
Agbu indeed had another agenda that he didn’t share with Al-Qaeda. An hour later they arrived at the small airport where Stefano had hidden the crop duster. The five friends from Basque country went over their assignments. “Timing is critical,” Agbu emphasized. “The devices must detonate exactly two minutes after completion of the third set, not before.”
Gate security at Roland Garros was good, but still did not satisfy Chris. She had a persistent feeling that there was something she had missed; some clue or tendency that would indicate what Agbu was planning. She doubled the security on the Simpsons, but was still worried. The women’s finals would be a logical time for Agbu to strike, particularly with Lisa Simpson on the court. Two young agents dressed like tennis pros were seated behind Pete in the players box, their guns hidden by the loose fitting sweat suits. The agents sported headphones like many of the other players, except their headphones didn’t play music, but kept them in contact with Chris and spotters stationed in the press box above him. Many eyes scrutinized anyone approaching the players box, or the friends and family box. Chris hoped this would be enough.
The CIA was watching Carlos closely as he had a leisurely dinner in the Latin Quarter with his coach and trainer. Agents sat a nearby table watching the crowds pass by around them. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” the agents reported. “There’s no sign of Agbu.” Carlos returned to his hotel around 10:00 and the agents settled in for a long night. They would be there if Carlos left the hotel.
Lisa won the toss and chose to serve. She had only lost serve seven times in six matches, an excellent percentage on red clay of. Her flat serve was in the 110-115 MPH range, occasionally reaching 120. This was enough to keep her opponents honest, but it was her kick serve that was most effective, particularly to the Ad court where it got up high on her opponent’s backhand forcing a defensive return.
Lisa’s first serve was a 118 MPH bullet up the middle for a service winner. Ambre barely got her racquet on it, and the crowd roared their approval. The French crowd was totally behind Lisa. Ambre’s icy demeanor never changed. Lisa missed her 15-love serve wide, and kicked her 2nd serve wide to Ambre’s backhand. Lisa had barely finished her follow-through when Ambre’s return rocketed up the line for a clean winner. The 15-all point seemed like an instant replay. Ambre stepped inside the baseline and took Lisa’s kick serve on the rise and hit it for another winner. The crowd gave Ambre polite applause, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was all business. Lisa took a little off the first serve and barely got a racquet on the hard return at her feet. Ambre easily put away the weak return. Lisa missed her first serve at 15-40 and faced a tough 2nd serve. She looked over at Ambre who was already two feet inside of the baseline ready to bounce. Rather than kick another serve wide, Lisa tried a hard, flat serve up the middle that missed by inches. Lisa was broken for the eighth time in the tournament.
Players like to say they play one point at a time, and one game at a time. They try to forget the last point that was played and concentrate on the next. This is easier said than done. There is intimidation in all sports, where one team or one player establishes dominance over their opponent. One player knows they are in control and the other knows they are overmatched. This happened to Lisa. You could see it on the changeover. Ambre’s look was one of steely resolve while Lisa looked like a whipped puppy. Ambre not only had broken Lisa’s serve, but she had broken her confidence.
The first set was over in 25 minutes, 6-1. Lisa managed to hold serve once at 0-4, but had failed to break Ambre. She had only a single break point, which was erased by a service winner. The crowd was stunned. The booing stopped, but Ambre received only polite applause for what was a terrific set of tennis.
Lisa came out for the 2nd set with a new determination. Ambre won the first game, but only after surviving two break points. Lisa had elevated her game, but Ambre was not finished. You could see it in her eye
The second set was tennis at its’ best. Lisa broke to go ahead three games to two, but Ambre broke right back by ripping a second serve up the line for a winner. At five all, Lisa played a fabulous point to reach break point by ending a long point with an acrobatic, backhand overhead. The crowd was on its feet screaming, willing Lisa to make a comeback. Ambre’s first serve was in the net and many in the crowd applauded, a tremendous breach of tennis etiquette that would never happen in London. Knowledgeable tennis fans cheer good shots, not mistakes. Ambre glared at the crowd as she waited for the noise to subside. On second serve, down break point in the finals of the French Open, Ambre hit a 122 MPH serve up the middle for a clean ace. The crowd was silenced. Ambre quickly won the next two points to take a 6-5 lead.
There was polite applause and more than a few jeers as Ambre walked to her chair, which quickly turned into gasps of surprise. I had been watching Lisa when I heard the crowd noise change. “What happened?”
“Ambre just flipped off the crowd. I saw it but I can’t believe it.” Many in the crowd were now booing as they realized what happened. Others applauded. One man yelled out, “we deserve it, Ambre.”
Lisa served at 5-6 to try to get to a tiebreaker and stay in the match. She played a great game, hitting five out of six first serves and had only one unforced error. It wasn’t enough. Her opponent was too good. Ambre won the game, set, match and championship by hitting a solid service return and volleying away the weak return for a
winner. The crowd was silent.
Ambre waited at the net for Lisa where they embraced and talked for 20 seconds. Ambre then shook hands lightly with the chair umpire, packed her tennis bag and left the court. She looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge the polite applause, stopping only to sign a few autographs for the kids lining the court.
It was the strangest championship ceremony in grand slam history. The champion didn’t show up. The crowd gave Lisa a tremendous ovation as she accepted her runner-up trophy. The roar got louder as she handed a camera to a ball girl and posed for a picture. They waited anxiously as Lisa walked to the microphone,
“Parla La Vu my French. Thank you so much, everyone, for the support you gave me over the last two weeks. I want to thank my parents, Jim and Mary, and my big brother Pete, who really is my great hero. Good luck tomorrow, Pete!” The crowd interrupted with loud applause.
“I also want to congratulate my opponent, Ambre, who played a tremendous tennis match. I can’t play any better than I did in the second set, but it wasn’t enough. Today she was unbeatable.” Many of the crowd booed at the mention of Ambre’s name, which seemed to irritate Lisa.
“It’s a shame that you finally have a French born champion, but can’t enjoy it” Lisa admonished the crowd. “I saw articles written about Ambre and me, and Ambre and Pete, that were not true. Ambre and I are not best friends, but I respect her. She was gracious after the match today. I’ll let Pete speak for himself, but suffice it to say that Pete would not be playing for the men’s championship tomorrow without Ambre’s support.” The crowd sat in stony silence.
“I don’t know anything about the Basque or this terrorist, Agbu. Tennis players are athletes, not politicians. I do know that Ambre played great tennis and deserves your support. Lisa paused before concluding. “Thank you so much for supporting me. You are the greatest!” Lisa pulled her new Nikon camcorder and filmed the crowd as they roared the applause rained down upon her.
Ambre listened to the speech from the locker room, and noted the boos when Lisa mentioned her name. She had almost gone back out to accept the trophy, but changed her mind. The French people could wait another 40 years for a French champion for all she cared.
She turned around and saw a friendly face. Security had finally allowed Pete into the locker room.
“Ambre, go back out there,” Pete implored as he held her. “The crowd will love you for coming back. Give them another chance. Come on,” Pete said as he pulled her to her feet.
“What will I say?” Ambre asked when they got to the door.
“You’ll think of something. Tell them what’s in your heart.”
A French official was accepting the Championship trophy on her behalf when Pete and Ambre walked out of the dark tunnel and into the sunshine. Applause started from the people near the entrance to the tunnel and spread through the stadium as the crowd recognized what was happening. Lisa, still holding her runner-up trophy, met Pete at the sideline and escorted Ambre the last 15 feet to the podium. The crowd gave Ambre a standing ovation that grew louder as fans returned from the exits. The noise was deafening as Ambre took the trophy from her coach and walked to the microphone.
Ambre wiped tears from her eyes as she waited for the applause to abate. The crowd was silent as Ambre turned at looked around at her adoring fans.
In French, I am so proud that I could win this Championship for France. I love you.”
Lisa quietly snapped a picture to give Ambre as a souvenir of her triumph.
“There are two people that I want to thank. Without their support, I wouldn’t be here today. Pete Simpson, you are simply the best and I owe this all to you.”
The crowd roared in approval as Ambre blew Pete a kiss and Pete blew a kiss back.
After the crowd became quiet, Ambre began again. “There is one other person who has been there for me all my life. He is like a father to me and without him, I would never have been able to come back from, come back from the where I had fallen. ‘Coach,’ would you do me the honor of standing beside me on the podium?”
Most of the crowd had never heard of “Coach”, but applauded as they watched Ambre embrace her mentor. Television cameras projected onto the Sony Jumbotron showed the tears streaming down the faces of this nineteen year old girl and the 65 year-old man. Tears flowed down Ambre’s cheeks as she listened to the applause and realized what she had accomplished. “Thank you ‘Coach’ - thank you so much for believing in me,” she whispered. The crowd continued applauding, recognizing that this was indeed a special relationship.
“Thank you,” Ambre said to the crowd as they stepped down from the podium carrying the trophy proclaiming her as French Open Champion, the first French-born champion in 45 years. Tears came to my eyes as I saw “Coach” escort Ambre to the sideline where Pete was waiting.
“Lisa snapped a perfect picture of the symbolic transfer which she could have sold for a fortune if her father and mother hadn’t claimed it for their own.
Susan Peterson had watched the match with particular interest. She and Bill had played a lot of club tennis and she could appreciate the talent of these young women. Susan wondered what Ambre had seen in Agbu. What type a woman falls for a killer like Agbu?
Day 14
The Men’s Finals