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By Pete Bodo
I was expecting a light, fun day out at the BJKUSTANTC yesterday. I'd pick up my credentials and all-important parking pass, get my locker and desk assignment, maybe cruise around a little with Tennis colleagues Tom Perrotta and Jon Levey, checking out some of the qualifying matches. But when I heard the match-assignment desk call for Olga Puchkova and Sesil Karatantcheva, I decided a little more formal work might be in order.
Many of you already know why: Karatantcheva, a native of Bulgaria, started this year fresh off a two-year doping suspension, following what amounted to as searing and painful a cautionary tale tennis has recently produced. And this is a game with a long and unfortunate history of precocity misplaced, abused, squandered or shattered. And in Karantantcheva's case it, it all played out publicly in a way that sometimes made you want to avert your eyes, stopper your ears, and pray that nobody you cared about would ever subject his or her child to this sport.
Here's the quick run-through: At 14, Karatantcheva, a highly regarded Nick Bollettieri protege, made an eye-opening breakthrough, winning two rounds at Indian Wells in 2004. This produced a tragicomic incident that has haunted her ever since: contemplating her next opponent, rising star Maria Sharapova, she predicted that she would "kick her ass off" - the waif from Bulgaria was ready to rock, even if she didn't get the terminology down pat. Mortified, the WTA tried to rein her in; the press successfully goaded her into repeating herself until all parties seemed guilty of (nothing more than) behaving like first-graders reveling in the instant attention they can get from using potty words. Karatantcheva at least made her trash talking credible if not tasteful, playing with impressive poise and focus before losing to La Sharapova in three sets.
Some people, myself included, found the combination of Karatantcheva's wild boasts and clueless demeanor more suggestive of inadequately socialized exuberance than arrogance, and a welcome, nascent fighting spirit. But then I was a staunch apologist for Andrea Jaeger and the young Andre Agassi, too. Here was a kid who, on one hand, evoked all things Bulgarian of that time, including plastic shoes, bad haircuts and ill-fitting clothing, yet had the spunk and air of entitlement befitting a gum-snapping, backhand-whacking, tennis bracelet-wearing California tennis princess. It was almost a moral imperative to cut her a break because she also was saddled with an intensely hands-on daddymonster, former rowing champ Radoslav Karatantchev.
Karatantcheva improved through 2004 and had a breakthrough 2005. Her best result was at Roland Garros, where she took out Venus Williams and at just 15 became the youngest French Open quarterfinalist since Martina Hingis in 1996. In November of that year, her ranking hit a career-high no. 35, and in December her world came tumbling down as the French sporting newspaper, L'Equipe, reported that she had failed a drug test at Roland Garros, testing positive for the steroid, Nandrolone.
The paper also reported that she blamed the failed drug test on chemical changes related to having been pregnant at the time the drug tests (for there were two positive test results) were administered. Facts relating to the pregnancy and its termination through abortion are excised from the ITF's Independent Anti-Doping Tribunal's decision, and I suppose it's just as well; the critical thing is that the ITF rejected her multiple defenses and embraced the simple explanation that she had, wittingly or not, ingested the banned substance and suspended her for two years, ending this past January.
What is that, the equivalent of a decade in the life of a developing player? It hardly seemed so, though, when Karatantcheva returned to the pro tour at the minor WTA event at Surprise, Az. in late January, and won two Grand Slams's worth of matches as she slashed her way from pre-qualifying right through to the title.
She made headlines then, and broke back into the top 10,000 (that's no typo), entering her next event (La Quinta) with a ranking of 9,999. Although she won that one, too, she's hit a few speed bumps on her way back to the elite Top 100, crushing opponents one week, flaming out the next. She's presently ranked no. 174.
When I wandered out to Court 15 yesterday afternoon and plopped down in the bleachers, it soon became apparent that the one thing Karatantcheva hasn't lost or let fall into disrepair is her poise - that ease with which really good players wear the heavy mantle of competition. This girl is made to play and win tennis matches like a coyote is made to kill bunnies. I arrived at that match right after Karatantcheva had been broken to go down, 0-2, but she battled back
and secured an easy, key break to take the first set, 6-4. Not that she
didn't have help - Puchkova served so badly that even Elena Dementieva
might have felt a pang of sympathy for the poor girl.
Karatantcheva wore a pretty, salmon-colored tennis dress layered over a white tank top. On changeovers, she sat erect, gazing into the middle distance. She used her towel with great purpose, meticulously tamping perspiration away from the corners of her eyes and sides of her noses, as well as between each of her fingers. It was the kind of ritual of relaxation you expect of someone happily adjusted to a work routine. All that betrayed her status as a struggling qualifier was the slightly worn and scuffed look of her Adidas shoes.
Was this struggle going to be resolved on form of the day? I didn't think. Because just watching the way each girl carried herself, and how she reacted to moments of greater or lesser pressure, was telling. I sensed that Puchkova experienced some sort of telepathic warning, like prey often does, that made her wary and inhibited. I've always felt that there's a sure way to recognize that communication during a tennis match: It's when the apprehensive one plays well, except when it really counts, while the bold one not only lets it rip when the pressure is on, but also shows no sign of remorse when pulling the trigger produces a wild or errant shot.
Karatantcheva played like she couldn't care less, Puchkova played like she was busy trying to disguise the fact that she couldn't care more. Puchkova has a glowing game: she hits a clean ball, with classis strokes, and seems to like points that are set pieces. Karatantcheva was a little more interested in mayhem and, in general, risk-taking. She's a good mover who likes to turn up the heat during rallies, and her two-handed backhand is a versatile thing of beauty. She sometimes crowds her forehand, and doesn't make quite as much pace on that side. Her serve always seemed the weak link, and it remains so today.
After Karatantcheva closed out the match, 6-4, 6-3, I approached her and introduced myself, asked if she was interested in having a chat. Her pale blue and green eyes - beautiful eyes, really - lit up and she said she really liked Tennis magazine. It was a nice gesture. A middle-aged Bulgarian couple came over, kissed and congratulated her. Then she fell into an embrace with an elderly American gent in old-fashioned tennis clothes, comically exclaiming, "Mike, dude, it's so good to see you here!"
I moved off a little to let them chat, and after a few moments Sesil came over to me and apologized. We started walking to the player lounge but were interrupted by a number of fans who said things like, "It's good to see you back!" Or, "We missed you." She also exchanged a big hug with Jennifer Elie, a long-lost friend from Karantatcheva's days at the Nick Bollettieri Tennis Academy.
As we walked along I asked if many people had wished her well and she said yes, and unexpectedly added, in a tone of wonder: "People. . . they can be so weird sometimes, you know?"
Karatantcheva tossed her racquet bag against a wall on the way to the dining area, and I asked if she thought her bag would be safe there. She said, laughing, "Trust me, the last thing anyone in here would want to steal is a tennis racket." She speaks English extremely well and has a sharp sense of humor, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. But she looks you in the eye and has that attractive ability to connect - to make you feel like the conversation matters. Whatever else she is - or isn't - Karatantcheva is an aware girl with a keen mind, the kind of young woman that some would describe as having an "old soul."
When I asked how the trip back to the game has been she said, "Long and bumpy, but it's good to be back."
I'd always been curious about that incident involving Sharapova at Indian Wells. Many people thought the stunt was orchestrated to get the emerging player attention. The backstory is more innocent; Bollittieri, eager to see Karatantcheva to be better understood and appreciated, encouraged her to tell the story of how Sharapova had haughtily turned down Karatantcheva as a hitting-session partner. "I'm an emotional person, and back then I was emotional and just 14." Karatantcheva explained. "I would say anything. Once I started going into that story, the rest just came out. It was a pattern, though. I'm always getting in trouble, kind of like the bad kid on the block."
When I asked Sesil what it was like to find herself suspended, she said that her first reaction was denial - This isn't happening to me. Then, after she spent three days crying, she abruptly decided: "I have nothing else to do but play tennis, I've done that and nothing else for 10 years. So I never really even thought about coming back to the tour. I just worked on the court (mostly at a spa in a town near Sofia), and then one day it was December, 2007 and I realized - I can go back."
Karatantcheva said she never got discouraged, never wondered if she could recapture her Top 35 form. She went day-by-day, largely alone, abandoned by friends and acquaintances from her brief days on the tour. Bollettieri publicly said he would welcome Karatantcheva back, but privately he encouraged her to break with her father, contending that he was a "bad infuence" (Karatantcheva's words). This put her in an uncomfortable position. She explained: "My family was the only ones beside me in those two years - not a single player came to me in two years and said, Keep playing, come back. I realized that my family was all I had, and I can't just leave behind the father who did so much for me. It's okay with Nick, though, I told him I appreciate his advice. We talk. But for me this is a good situation. I grew up with my dad. He took care of everything. I'm still my daddy's girl."
When I asked her if any elements in her original story, or the facts pertaining to her case, had changed, she said no. She characterized herself at 15 as "pretty crazy." She suddenly had a modicum of fame, and money as well. She had, by her own measure, "a big mouth." She stopped listening to anything that anybody might offer in the way of advice.. "I'm not really sorry about all that," she said. "It was just me. But I guess I just used those two years away to get my head together, to stop flying in the sky and start walking on the ground." Her voice cracked slightly as she added, "I had a pretty tough puberty."
Karatantcheva likes to point to the fact that Jamie Lee Spears, pop train-wreck Britney's sister, had a child at 16, and characterized unwanted pregnancy and drugs as the two major problems confronting youngsters in this new century. She just rolls her eyes when people wonder how she could have done such a thing - and at 15, no less - and she's grown hardened to the judgments made by others. And you have to wonder, how could she not?
Sometimes, she said, she wishes she were a male player, able to partake of the camaraderie she sees on the men's tour. "The women's tour, you know, it's more like . . . what do you call that, where bees live? A beehive. Yes - that's how it feels. They're really not very nice to each other. Everyone has her own clique. But don't get me wrong, I have my own friends, too."
I wondered if she believed in forgiveness, perhaps even redemption. Did she expect that anyone would take the position that whatever she did or didn't do, she's paid her price and now has a right to start with a clean slate?
"Personally, I believe that everybody deserves a second chance. But if someone thinks I did it, that I'm guilty and should continue to pay, then whatever. . . But it's the 21st century. This is a multi-million dollar industry, and people expect you to go out and run 100 kilometers an hour, and do other unbelievable stuff. Who's going to hold up under that pressure. What body is strong enough?"
She left her thought unfinished, and I felt it was time to change the subject. I asked about her poise, the suggestion of entitlement, albeit without arrogance, that seeemed so striking to me.
"I'm a pretty calm player," she said. "I rarely smash rackets or scream. Actually, I laugh a lot on court - and I loved Agassi and now Federer for being like that, for being so. . gentle . . . on the court. I guess it's just my character; people say,'how can you be so hyper and wound up, and then go on the court and be so calm?' and I don't know the answer to that."
I wondered what she felt she might have lost, being off the tour for two years, and what she might have gained. She answered Part A swiftly and clearly: "I lost my ranking, that hurt the most. Starting at zero is very, very hard, because now everybody can play. The bottom of the rankings is overcrowded with good players and you can be a good player and still spend your entire career there."
Part B was a little more complicated. She said, "Maybe I grew up, realized what is important and what is not. I also learned to live one day at a time, and to enjoy every day,
because maybe tomorrow I'm not here. It's good to understand that. I started thinking more, too, which I don't like. Honestly. I mean that.This growing up took away a lot - at 14, 15, I was uncaring. Am I gonna lose? Big deal! Who cares? Being brave, that's easy when you're not thinking."
Yesterday, for long stretches in two solid sets, Karatantcheva forgot to think. She played uncaring tennis, and bumped one step closer to a main-draw slot at the U.S. Open. It was, in some ways, like old times once again for a 19-year old - despite the fact that these days, she said, she would rather stay in most nights and curl up with a good book. She recently finished La Dame Aux Camilas, by Alexandre Dumas, and was heartbroken by the tragic end. You'd think she'd know by now that only the good die young - or should those nouns be reversed?
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Well, the countdown to the US Open continues; today, I'll be attending the draw. I think I have to shoot some kind of video spot on the implications of the draw, with my Tennis magazine compadre Jon Levey. As many of you already know, I loathe exercises in bracketology, and making predictions in general. But I'm glad Jon and I will form a two-headed talking-head monster, because those stand-up monologues are a lot less fun to do, and always seem less natural every step of the way. Danged video. I'm a writer, not a TV guy but it looks like after all these years on the run, the posse in the new Internet age finally has me surrounded.
Mornin', everyone. I'm going out to the US Open qualies today, to pick up my credentials and poke around a little. Not much more to add for now, except to say that I'll be posting later in the day, and expect to bump into some of you out at the BJKNTC this afternoon. Tomorrow, we have the US Open official draw ceremony, and then Friday I'll be back out at Flushing Meadow. Enjoy today's tennis action and comment on it here. Also, keep your eyes open for Thursday's Deuce Club posts, where I'm going to ask those of you who will be attending the US Open, and may want to hook up with fellow TWibe membere, to make yourselves know.
By Pete Bodo
But let’s also acknowledge the Chinese women. Psychologically, playing for bronze may be the most daunting challenge in Olympics tennis. Start with this: the finalists are assured medals, and the worst either of them can do is silver. The finalists are playing with house money. And let’s face it, the Olympic silver medal is a far more cherished object than a runner-up trophy, even at a Grand Slam. In fact, I can’t really recall anyone winning a silver medal at the Olympics and choosing to give it back (now when it comes to Swedish wrestlers and bronze medals, that’s a whole other story!).
