Warning: Tennis (#4, The Guts and Puke Match)

I'm counting down the Top 5 tennis matches I didn't see.  Yes.  Incredibly fascinating.  You can read about #5 here. 

4. Pete Sampras vs. Alex Corretja, 1996 U.S. Open Quarterfinal

Like Aaron Krickstein, Alex Corretja was a top-tier journeyman in professional tennis for what seemed like ages. He was one of those players who often makes it to the quarterfinals of the big tournaments, sometimes the semifinals, and on rare occasion, the finals (Corretja was twice runner up at the French Open) but somehow never seem to break through a fixed ceiling into the upper echelon of historic players. There are many such journeymen in the game and they are dangerous, talented, hover in the top 10 in the world at any given moment, but either don’t win Grand Slams, or at best, become one-Slam wonders.

Pete Sampras, on the other hand, was… not a journeyman.

I have seen better tennis players since Pete Sampras was in his prime. I believe that any of Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic, or Rafael Nadal could have beaten Pete Sampras when they were at their bests. But I am not sure of that. Pistol Pete was the first player I ever saw who seemed superhuman. I still don’t believe some of the things I saw him do. He just had another gear than everyone he played. No matter what was happening in a match, I never once had a feeling that Pete Sampras was on the verge of losing, even when he was. You knew that at any given moment, he could flip a switch and suddenly be twice as good as his opponent. He often flipped that switch at the biggest, most crucial moment in a match. And he made it seem effortless. Casual. Ridiculous. What I felt watching Pete play was beyond awe – more like incredulity. And I say this as someone who often rooted against him.

Michael Jordan had this quality. Sandy Koufax had it. Lionel Messi has it now. People so talented that they seem to defy the laws of physics, not to mention the constraints of their sports. People who can intimidate even other great players.

For one glorious day, on September 7, 1996, journeyman Alex Corretja looked every bit as good as Pete Sampras, and probably even better – and still lost. This is another reason we watch sport. To see the underdog overachieve and reach for the stars, to come within a hair’s breadth of achieving their dream. Win or lose, it’s a stirring moment. Corretja would call this the greatest match of his career, the very best – and the very worst.

The final score was 7-6 (7-5), 5-7, 5-7, 6-4, 7-6 (9-7). If you know anything about tennis, those numbers tell the tale of a long, grueling 5-set match. What they don’t tell you is that it was in the 90’s that day in New York, with high humidity, and ambient temperatures on the court were over 100 degrees. Sampras suffered severe dehydration and heat exhaustion, looking listless throughout the second half. In the fifth set he would hunch doubled over after long points, leaning on his racket for support, sucking air. Tied at 1-1 in the 5th set tiebreak, he vomited on the court and drew a time warning from the chair umpire. After every point he would crouch or walk slowly back to the baseline, weaving uncertainly. And somehow, on every point he would come up with amazing tennis regardless. Corretja had a match point up 7-6 in the tiebreak, and Sampras saved it with a lunging stab volley. Two points later he won, then had to be helped from the court and immediately required 2 liters of intravenously administered fluids.

I didn’t see this, of course. Why? Because I was too drunk.

In 1996 I was living in Indiana and going to grad school, 1000 miles away from my future wife and mother of my children. I didn’t have many friends, and I didn’t have cable TV. So I went to a sports bar to watch some tennis. I got there and watched a bit of unmemorable early stuff before the Sampras-Corretja match, nursing a beer or two. At some point the bartender talked me into having an “oatmeal cookie” shot – equal parts Jagermeister, Goldschlager and Bailey’s. It was tasty, I allowed. Another beer when the Sampras match started. Sometime later, another shot. I was having a good time, but by the time the second set was over I was already several sheets to the wind and had to walk (stagger) home, not realizing I was about to miss the majority of one of the greatest matches I might ever hope to see. I read about it in the paper the next day. I could have used some intravenous fluids myself.

So I owe this one entirely to my own stupidity.

Sampras went on to win the U.S. Open that year, by the way. Here’s the end of the Corretja match (the puking is over by the beginning of this clip, so the stomach sensitive needn’t worry):    

Next up tomorrow:  A personal, unseen favorite from one of the greatest rivalries in the sport.