November 23, 2009
The Interpretation of Tennis: Pete Sampras' Athletic Expressionism
By antiMatter
It is sometimes sort of a debate, an argument, tennis is.
Just like passionate arguers who try to find weaknesses in the other's points, players constantly probe the other's game for loopholes. The process is never ending, as every player comes the next time armed with better arguments, capitalizing on the flaws from the previous.
People argue in many different ways. Some are patient and put up with all the harshness weathering them down in the end, others are scheming all the while and spring an irrefutable point at an unsuspecting moment, and still others are there who simply dominate despite showing all their cards to the public.
The intent to dominate normally comes with an aggressive mentality. And with aggression normally comes hot-headedness.
There was one man, who in his prime, was the most aggressive player of his time, and perhaps of all time. He was also known to be the most cool-headed player of his generation.
Against him, you always knew what was coming. You knew all his arguments. But even after months and years of analysis, you simply were unable to find a set of winning syllogisms. He simply turned up next time with the same arguments, and you simply shook your head in frustration.
Pete Sampras has the best all round game in the history of tennis, second only perhaps to Roger Federer. Despite owning such a varied game, the Pistol took a path radically different. He decided to attack.
It was as if Sampras was always trying to prove what Federer had always believed. And this need to prove always punctuated Sampras' game.
How much he needed it was emphasized by the way he ran after that elusive ball to crack a running forehand winner, the greed with which he fired down aces, and the killer instinct with which he leaped into the air to unleash those slam dunks. All of course with an expressionless face and a somnambulistic body language.
He took all the elements of a richly varied game and stitched them together into a single attacking weapon. But there reverberated in his game, one particular aspect --- the athleticism.
Yes it was distinctly visible in everything he did --- the way he moved.
As he closes in on a forehand, he looks like a speeding locomotive not yet reached it's top speed --- always accelerating. You could morph Michael Jordan's head onto his while he does that jump overhead smash, and you would be confused whether it is basketball or tennis.
The center of gravity of his physique always seemed to have a mind of it's own, as if it was that which moved in mid-air pulling the rest of his body with it, and his legs where just hanging from the hips and moving the way they were to trick us into believing that all was normal. Indeed, the way the feet floated over the court seemed sometimes to literally suggest that he was walking on water.
But Pete's running was not the silky smooth type. It was completely in tune with the rest of his game. To be aggressive, you need to believe in your strokes. And the strokes believed in the movement. Always moving at full speed towards a ball, if any adjustments were needed they were made in the blink of an eye, especially when moving toward the net. He was always on the right track to be in position to hit the ball.
Many a time, Pete ran in full blown strides --- not with the traditional "short-steps" that help you calibrate your movement better --- perhaps since he knew his running. This is exactly what would make his slam dunks fit in perfectly in an NBA game (think Youtube).
The sheer speed of his game starkly contrasted with what he did between the points --- swagger from side to side around the court, shoulders dropping, the neck pretending it was not strong enough to hold the head straight up, the mouth pretending that it was too weak to hold the tongue inside.
The confident speed during the game alternated by the unsure baby-steps between the points spoke of a guy who though didn't care to play at all, was nevertheless still racing ahead of you in stupendous fashion. It relayed the message that Sampras chose to relay to his opponent.
After his retirement, when asked whether he would make a comeback the Pistol replied that he wouldn't come back unless he wanted to be the No.1 again.
That need to dominate --- to always play to prove that he was the best --- was reflected in his aggressive, dominating game.
Sampras' interpretation of the game was one where a constant was enough to annihilate all of his opponents. But it was not a constant of an aggressive base-liner or a serve-and-volleyer. It was a multi-dimensional constant --- it had all the weapons, none used for defense.
The single strongest argument in tennis was also among the most expressive ones. And most of the emotion in it was due to it's most important component --- the running.
One would be hard-pressed to find an athlete who live by the mantra "let his game speak for him" better than the Pistol. The King of Swing. The Emperor Athlete.