It’s hard to say what a tennis exhibition means. You’re not getting, say, anything like the final of Wimbledon, if only because the people paying for the matches aren’t interested in who wins. They’re interested in having the players put on a show. A 6-0 set in an exhibition isn’t a blowout. It’s a mistake.
So right from the start, we know that the series between Roger Federer and Pete Sampras is not going to give us either guy at their best: Sampras is 10 years past his prime, while Federer is basically getting paid to keep it competitive. As Andre Agassi said when he was asked recently about these matches: “They’ll be as close as Federer wants them to be.”
Despite all those caveats, I was intrigued, as any fan should be—these are two of the four (along with Laver and Borg) greatest tennis players in history. My anticipation was only slightly dimmed when I flipped on the Tennis Channel and saw that the stadium in Seoul was not even close to full. And I could even ignore the fact that it was being billed as—huh?— the “Clash of Times,” which doesn’t have quite the same ring as the Thrilla in Manila.
None of this bothered me because of the simple, surprising presence of Pete Sampras. While Federer, in his red Nike shirt and headband, looked like a tennis pro, Sampras, balding, puffy-faced, in long green shorts, looked pretty much like what he is: a stay-at-home dad.
But it was Sampras’ game that made this worth watching, for one big reason: He doesn’t play power-baseline tennis. I don’t think I’d realized how cookie-cutter the sport had gotten until watching him today. Sampras doesn’t rally, as bizarre as that may sound. He wins with his serve, which he hits almost equally hard on first and second deliveries. On his opponent’s serve he goes for a winner every time he gets a look at a forehand. I’d forgotten all this, and after five years of pure baseline tennis from the men, it looked very odd. I’d also forgotten, frankly, how boring this style can be. Sampras always took his opponent out of a match by making the first strike, but that hit-and-miss game also left fans with little to grab onto or marvel about.
It was enough to throw Federer off for the first six games. Sampras broke him with a vintage crosscourt forehand and eventually went up 4-2. Pete was winning with aces to all four corners; heavy slice service winners to the deuce court that left Federer helpless the way they had every other opponent over the years; well-placed volleys off floating returns (Sampras was less a classic serve-and-volleyer in the Edberg-Rafter vein than he was a server who also volleyed); and strong, deep forehands. What was most striking was how the points were won or lost on Sampras’ racquet; Federer was scrambling and rarely in control of a point. (Again, who knows what gear Federer had it in; it was clear, though, that he cared about winning, and afterward he said he felt pressure not to lose to a retired guy.)
Then Sampras’ rust started to show, and Federer began to read his serve. The American double-faulted a half-dozen times, often on crucial points, and dumped equally crucial volleys into the net. He was up 4-2 and 15-30 on Federer’s serve; a few minutes later Federer was ripping a backhand pass by him for the set.
Afterward, both guys were winningly humble. Sampras said that Fed was “nice enough” to invite him to play, while Federer was nervous playing his idol and was happy to hang out with a Grand Slam champion because there are so few of them around these days (you’ve only got yourself to blame for that, Roger!).
All in all, the match reminded me of what made Sampras so tough to play, and so different from Federer and the other guys today: He was all about dictating, about pressuring, about the first strike. He showed that that kind of game can still work, even against one of the best returners and defenders around. Young players take note: There may not be any net-rushers anymore, but there could be.
