December 27, 1997
Pete Sampras: Waffle Is the Breakfast of This Champion
By ROBIN FINN

TAMPA, Fla. -- It was morning, Pete Sampras was craving the first carbo-load of the day, and that could mean only one thing. It was time for the world's No. 1 tennis player to fold himself into his alter ego, "the Beast," a black Porsche Turbo S with 430 mechanized horses lurking beneath its hood and a reliable radar detector hidden in its dash, and race to the Waffle House, accelerating at one point to an immoderate 110 miles an hour.

Pete Sampras broke the law? Well, just for a minute.

Though the traditional book on Sampras says that he is an all-work-and-no-play sort of guy (he hasn't let any of the other tennis-playing guys finish the year ranked No. 1 since he turned 21), the book contains a few misprints.

"What 26-year-old guy doesn't like to go fast?" asked Sampras, who serves even faster than he drives and can't help feeling that speed limits are for those who don't pocket $15 million a year and can't afford to pay their tickets.

"This way, I beat everybody else to the red lights," said Sampras, for whom beating everybody else, at least on the tennis court, has become a good habit. Like eating a hot breakfast -- so long as he doesn't have to cook it.

"I'm not saying I've never cooked an egg, I just haven't cooked one lately; who knows, I could have cooking school somewhere in my future," said Sampras, a savvy high school dropout who figures he will play tennis into his 30s, long enough not just to surpass but ideally to double Roy Emerson's career men's record for Grand Slam singles titles. Emerson has a dozen, but Sampras, who won the Australian Open and Wimbledon this year, has 10.

"If I keep playing at this level till I'm 30, I'll have a crack at 16 more Slams -- if I play till I'm 31, that's 20 -- but right now I'm hungry for something besides titles," said Sampras, his foot on the accelerator and his mind on, yes, waffles.
This breakfast was the most important meal of a day that would take Sampras off to the Bahamas for a one-night diversion at the casinos. Sampras at the casinos? More illusions shattered.
"Just a little blackjack," he said. "I'm not that crazy about it."

But Sampras is nuts about waffles, and defends their virtues the way his flashier contemporary, Andre Agassi, used to defend cheeseburgers. He loves his local Waffle House: the glasses are made of plastic, the air is perfumed with griddle grease and the hard-working waitresses call him, and everyone else, Hon.

Nobody cares a whit that he's a celebrity with a $150,000, just-100-models-made collector's item of a car, 52 career titles, an actress girlfriend, a record $6.5 million in 1997 prize money and $8 million more in endorsements, and a monopoly on the top ranking for a fifth year in a row. Nobody whispers that Sampras has just moved ahead of Agassi into the 15th spot, right behind George Foreman, on Forbes magazine's 1997 honor roll of the planet's 40 wealthiest athletes. In these parts, Sampras isn't a champion, he's a regular.

At the Waffle House, the anonymity factor is almost as intoxicating as the hot maple syrup. No one wants his autograph, and no one asks him if he thinks of himself as the Michael Jordan of tennis, a question that makes Sampras lose his appetite wherever and whenever it is asked.

"I think it's great that nobody here knows who I am, or if they do, they don't care; it means I can be myself, not have to struggle with this fame-and-fortune stuff," said Sampras, who is shy at heart, a trait he said he gets from his mother, Georgia, a homemaker. "She doesn't like to talk about herself, either."

"I think like my dad," Sampras said of his father, Soterios -- call him Sam -- a retired aerospace engineer for the Department of Defense in California. "He's very orderly, always in a hurry to get to the airport three hours early, stuff like that. He takes it to a new level. But with all of my family, what you see is what you get, nothing fake. I like it that they've been my real parents more than my tennis parents."

After spending Christmas with them in Los Angeles, Sampras planned to head to the Australian Open to defend his 1997 title -- he went 8-for-8 in finals this year -- and start earning next year's waffle money.

"The money, at this point, is ridiculous," he said. "You know you're out of touch when you start turning down million-dollar guarantees because you'd rather stay home, but more money is not going to change how I live my life. I've got my car and my house, but besides that, I'm not into toys; you won't see me buying a boat."

"But with Boris retired and Andre not doing so hot, it's like my agent says, I'm the only show in town. The contracts and guarantees just keep going up. I'm as surprised as anybody."

Sampras knows he has the means to keep his family comfortable for generations, but as for the excess, he's not sure just how far from home his charity should extend. "I don't see myself doing a Ted Turner thing," he said, "but that's not to say it'll never happen."

Sampras nosed the Porsche into a gang of pickup trucks in the parking lot, strolled into the trailer-sized eatery and installed himself at the counter because two other ordinary types in T-shirts were in his preferred corner booth. He eyeballed the laminated menu, then ordered the usual: one waffle, lightly cooked.
"This is probably the only place that I can eat in peace," he said between mouthfuls.

Since Sampras doesn't cook, he doesn't find his own kitchen a particularly peaceful, or useful, place to be. "No food has touched that stove for the last year," he said on a recent tour of his residence. The molding sprouts in the refrigerator were left behind by his girlfriend, Kimberly Williams, who is currently off making a movie. Whether from sentiment -- he is so smitten that yes, thoughts of marriage have crossed his mind -- or from laziness (he does do laundry), Sampras has yet to get around to disposing the sprouts.

Sampras does lots of dining out: lunch is a prefab sandwich from the nearby Publix supermarket, and dinner, if he can snag a table without having to use his name, is procured at standard strip-mall pit stops like Outback Steak House. For those really big nights out, and there aren't many, Sampras heads to the Rub, a Tampa nightclub where one of his racquets is on display in the trendy humidor room.

Sampras did a stint of bachelor partying after his seven-year relationship with Delaina Mulcahy ended a year ago, but the wild life got old fast. "It was fun while it lasted, but it didn't last long," he said. "I realized I'd rather be home watching basketball."

Except for his car and the 5,500-square-foot house he treats "like a hotel," fanciness eludes him. Certainly, his wallet is a humble possession. When the Waffle House waitress plopped down his check, $4.96 before tip, Sampras nonchalantly dug into his billfold to find $4 and nothing more. He blushed but didn't panic. Instead, he hustled out to the parking lot and, regular guy to the hilt, got down on his hands and knees and rummaged around on the floor of the Porsche until he found enough quarters to make a respectable showing back at the counter.

Breakfast over, Sampras took a leisurely pace home. He even observed the stop sign that was specially installed for him and the Beast just inside the security gate of the Oz-like community -- complete with emerald green fairways and atmospheric lagoons frequented by authentic but petite alligators -- where he drops his gear bags when he's not on the road.

Though his house has an impressive front door, he comes and goes through the garage, which leads into his favorite room, a red-walled den with vaulted ceilings (Sampras doesn't slump at home the way he does on the court) and a built-in entertainment center, which holds his television set, stereo and laser disk system. The crowning touch? Four Wimbledon trophies.

"That wall basically sums me up," Sampras said, admiring it from the depths of a green leather sofa. "When I build my dream house, I want it to have something like that." But the dream house, which will have big rooms and be on big land someplace near Los Angeles, is still a figment. Sampras will remain in Florida, convenient for training and taxes, for a few more years.

Actually, Sampras may need just one more year to break two of the most celebrated records in his sport. If he wins three Grand Slam titles in 1998, he will break Emerson's career record. And by doing that, he will be certain to end the year as the world No. 1 for the sixth straight year, making him the only man in tennis history ever to sustain such longevity at the top. Right now, he is tied with Jimmy Connors.

No disrespect toward current competitors, but Sampras has zero intention of letting anybody else be No. 1 anytime soon. Still, he doesn't take his status for granted; in fact, he can't imagine what he would do if he weren't No. 1.

"I couldn't accept it," he said. "I've got a gun upstairs -- no, seriously, obviously it's going to happen, eventually I'm not going to be No. 1, but unless I go into a big slump or get really hurt, I don't see myself losing it. Everything I do right now is based on breaking records, winning the French, on being No. 1. Some things in life aren't in my control, but when I play, most things are."

"Tennis is what got me here," he said, waving an arm around his domain, "and tennis is what will keep me here. I'm real serious about it."

Sampras accepts that his country doesn't take its tennis stars too seriously. While other champions get parades and presidential invitations, Sampras has received little fanfare for his dominance. Nor did many seem to care when he led the United States to the Davis Cup championship two years ago in Moscow. That's part of the reason he may trim Davis Cup from his 1998 schedule altogether and concentrate on winning the majors.

Sampras realizes it may be close to impossible to win all four Grand Slam tournaments in a single year as his role model Rod Laver did, but he knows that some won't classify him as truly great until he tames the red clay at Roland Garros.

"It could turn out to be the French Open that keeps me playing," Sampras said. "I don't look at myself as a historical icon, but the reality of it is, yeah, I am playing for history now. I want to be the best, and I'll do whatever it takes. And when I've done it, I'll have the rest of my life to live the rest of my life. I'm kind of looking forward to it."


TENNIS MATCH
April 2000
Pistol Pete Goes Hollywood

TM: What is your most prized possession?
PS: My Porsche. I love to drive it. It's a great feeling. Not like winning Wimbledon, but still a great feeling.