NUST0308E

US TENNIS
September 2003
PRO GAME: Jim Courier on his Friends and Rivals, Pete and Andre
7/25/03
By Jim Courier

A few years ago, I stopped in Las Vegas on my way to a charity exhibition to play a round of golf with Andre Agassi. Steffi Graf, his companion (and now wife), came along to drive one of the carts and take pictures. While we were putting on one hole, the caddy asked, "So, how many Grand Slam titles did you guys say you got?"

I shrugged and said, "Four. How about you, Andre?"
"Six." He turned and called over to Steffi. "How about you, Steff. How many did you get?"
She paused and said, "Twenty-two."

Andre and I just looked at each other and cracked up. It was a wonderful moment, one of many I've shared with Andre over the years. I'll remember it for a long time because it was a reminder that it's always good to see your achievements, and yourself, in perspective. Because it's never just about titles, any more than a job should be just about money. It's also about who you were, how you acquitted yourself out there, and what you brought to the game.

And on that count, Andre can rest assured.
So, for that matter, can that other rival and friend of mine, Pete Sampras. I grew up with these guys. I competed against them and, on Davis Cup squads, with them. We shared good times and tough times and even, in the case of Pete, a tragic time. I've also watched them carry the game on their shoulders for the better part of 15 years. This sometimes amazes me because I can remember a time when it wasn't even certain that Andre or Pete would become top pros, never mind define the game in this era.

Andre's talent was obvious at an early age. His eyes and hands were great. He was and still is an amazing ball striker. But Andre was a loose cannon. We didn't know if he had the desire or staying power to live up to his ability. As kids, the competition between us (our generation also included Michael Chang, David Wheaton, Mal Washington, and Todd Martin) was pretty intense -- so intense that when Andre tried the pro tour in 1986, at 16, it almost felt like he was fleeing the pressure of the junior game. He had nothing to lose on tour.

But that was when his talent started to shine. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, Andre was in the quarterfinals of a tournament at Stratton Mountain, Vermont, and we couldn't help but think, "This is the same guy we were practicing with two weeks ago. We can't be too far off."
But questions of competitive character trailed Andre right up to the time I played him at Roland Garros in 1991. He was the hyped young star, yet people weren't sure of his ability to win big finals. This time, I was the one with nothing to lose.

I think losing to me in that final sent Andre into a tailspin for a year and was the beginning of a pattern.
This perceived flaw -- I'd call it a lack of persistence -- is what periodically caused Andre to drift off into other things when he got discouraged by tennis (it was also a blessing in disguise, enabling him to escape burnout). One of the major reasons I admire Andre is because he could so easily have wandered away from tennis for good, but he didn't. With his charisma and intelligence, he could have headed for a place like Hollywood, leaving behind an "if only" kind of tennis resume.

But Andre chose a tougher road. He dug deep and faced up to his abilities and responsibilities in tennis. He became persistent. Andre recognized that he was given a lot but up to that point he had given very little. He's spent a huge part of his career redressing that. He's now the most philanthropic player out there. He's also a grounded family man and superbly professional.

Pete is a different breed, and that bipolar quality in their relationship is the reason their rivalry has been so interesting. Pete and I weren't junior rivals (we only played once), so we became closer friends. The thing with Pete is, he's not really a curious guy in the same way Andre is. He doesn't ask himself, "Why am I doing this?" For Pete, A plus B always equals C. If he prepares, gets in shape, and practices, he's going to beat most players. So that's what he did.

It took awhile, though, for Pete to understand those ABCs. Starting out, Pete took a bashing for not being Andre (who is?), and it also seemed like he might be too laid back to be a big winner. After Pete won his first Grand Slam, the U.S. Open in 1990, he shrank back from the challenges and pressures most champions thrive on.

The guy who recognized that Pete was an insecure kid was his coach, the late Tim Gullikson. When Pete was floundering and uncertain of how good he was, or how comfortable he felt as a top dog, Tim told Pete what he needed to hear: "You have more ability than anyone else out there, it's time you started making good on it without easing up on yourself."

After Pete got another taste of success, he began to develop what would become his greatest asset, the single-mindedness that allowed him to focus on the only thing he really wanted: to win major titles. Once his ambition crystallized, Pete never strayed from that focus. He lost Tim to brain cancer midcourse, but even then he didn't break stride. Pete modeled himself on heroes from another era, and we discovered that he really was like those tight-lipped, modest, classy Australian champions of the '50s and '60s.

Pete learned to live with his guard up, so much that he really enjoys letting it down. This same guy who pulls all of his punches in public pulls none of them in private. He has a biting, sarcastic wit, and he enjoys a good laugh. That we never see this in public says a lot about Pete's self-control.

But Pete feels more than he shows; that was made very clear in our quarterfinal match at the Australian Open in 1995, a year and a half before Tim died. Pete broke down in tears on court that day but he pressed on and won the five-set war, demonstrating that he didn't ignore things or tune them out -- he internalized them. Afterwards, as we both lay in the trainer's room getting the cramps massaged out of our arms and legs, we talked about the match, about Tim, about life. I'm proud of everything about that match, from the drama to the sportsmanship we both showed to the level of play and the camaraderie.

Pete, by the way, has 14 Grand Slam singles titles. That's more than Andre and I have combined, but still eight fewer than Steffi.
As is often the case, numbers don't tell the whole story.

Jim Courier played on Davis Cup championship teams with Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi in 1992 and 1995.