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Graf... gumption and glory

Dhritiman Hui

Steffi Graf is human.

If one could identify her though, by virtue of a single trait, it would have to be the manner in which she has consistently side-stepped controversy over a professional calling lasting 16 years.

Circumstance and fate have tried to spoil this unique characteristic as the tennis world watched a deranged Gunther Parche stab Graf's nearest rival at Hamburg, and Petr Graf, her father, being caught mudslinging with German tax authorities. But Steffi has stayed aloof, detached; her pain and frustration hers and hers alone, and not a single news hound ever got a whiff of what lay within her.

Other players called her the loneliest champion on the circuit, the female steppenwolf who would be in and out of the locker room even before you could raise a friendly wave from her. No one on the circuit, even the obtrusive media were privy to her emotions … which wavered from a smile on annexing a title to a bowed head on being knocked out of a tournament.

Twenty-two Grand Slam singles titles are a mind-boggling feat in today's sport, where domination by a single individual is a feature that has been steadily eradicated by a ruthless level of professionalism being achieved by almost all athletes. But Graf managed that level of authority on today's circuit for a lengthy period of a 186 weeks at the number one spot, thanks to a focussed temperament, that can be traced back to a 13-year-old Steffi, who wanted only to be a professional tennis player, and her father, trainer and counselor Petr Graf, who imbibed the belief in her that it was them against the rest of the world, and that it was her job to win and keep winning, and not to make friends.

Former singles champion Chris Evert recalls how, after winning the first encounter against Steffi, she offered her a ride on her golf cart. Steffi gleefully jumped on, but Petr Graf tersely pointed out that she had not won, and only winners were allowed to ride on the cart. Evert felt sorry for the 14-year-old back then.

Monica Seles confides how her opponents would be scared of Graf's intense ability to focus single mindedly on the sport. She would pay rich homage to her abilities and feats, but when asked to talk about her personal friendship with Graf, she would flounder to give a substantial reply. Seles recalls that the only time Graf actually forded the emotional barrier between herself and her biggest tour rival was after the stabbing incident, when Steffi cried and cried at Monica's bedside in the hospital, apologetic for no fault of hers. Since then, there have been no other attempts at friendship, and, consequently, no relationship whatsoever.

Ever since her million-dollar legs went under the knife, circumstance has slowly coaxed the German to bare her emotions. Graf, on her return from her forced hiatus, found it remarkably difficult to recapture the dexterity and strength of her legs which would enable her to sustain a level of brilliance even after her foes across the net could barely dish up a forehand.

Fourteen years on an increasingly demanding WTA tour gives everyone the odd niggling injury and Graf had her share: back, shoulders, calves and even infected toes had been pushed into the subconscious by the lady as she continued her odyssey into a more successful tomorrow. But the crippling blow came when the fibres in her left knee started giving away. Reconstructive, arthroscopic surgery followed, and then came intensive rehabilitation. Away from the grind, she watched her ranking plumb to the mid 30's. Graf tried hard, daily at her Boca Ruton home to regain strength in her legs, but she confided herself that she was only 65 per cent fit, but that was enough to goad her into a final shot towards Wimbledon, her favourite place in the world. Everyone held their breath, but she stumbled, and with it had her spirit for the game finally broken. How she would have loved to end the way Martina Navratilova did, going down, on Centre Court, after a blazing two-hour battle in the Championship final.

As Graf found the time for introspection, she left the all encompassing shadow of Petr Graf behind. Monosyllabic answers to the press started to be replaced by more thoughtful efforts. She started letting out a lot more that she would usually keep inside and suddenly she is more aware of the records within her immediate reach, motivating herself and her tired facets by setting her eyes on Margaret Court's record of 24 Grand Slam singles crowns.

Earlier, Steffi would roll past one landmark after the other, blissfully unaware, simply because she loved to play the game. But now, stepping on to court required significant resolve and she has reached the painful realization that her time is nigh.

Steffi has broken down twice on court and her emotions have surfaced before the public, once at Hanover, in her comeback tournament, when the home crowd gave her a warm applause, and then again, a month later she shed tears of frustration at Indiana Wells in March as she couldn't overcome her physical failings in a third round match against Lindsay Davenport. She was cheered as she left court and the 'Ice Queen' finally understood and accepted the fact that the crowd out there appreciated her tennis, her effort.

People loved her. Graf suddenly started performing actions indicative of warmth, such as becoming a close friend of nearby neighbour Chris Evert, and actually taking under her wing the promising youngster Mirjana Lucic. It seemed that Miss Steffi Graf was coming into her own… slowly.

Gone were the pressures of performance, of a dominating father, and the expectations of the crowds. The tennis world was in a tizzy about the glamour of Anna Kournikova, the bludgeoning power of the Williams clan, the invincibility of Martina Hingis. It had lost the feeling of nostalgia, the celebration of frailty - which would once be the hallmark of the women's circuit.

Graf found her appearances on court to be sessions where she could enjoy the pleasure of hitting the tennis ball again, applauded and cheered by a crowd that seemed to be craving for the drama, the genteel ambience of a bygone era.

Steffi Graf finally shed the wall around her and allowed herself the luxury of feeling appreciated, of appreciating. She returned to Paris as the overwhelming sentimental favourite. And as she unleashed the trade mark booming forehands, the inside out crosscourts and ran over Magdalena Maleeva, the French Press corp seemed convinced that she was here for more than a token visit.

Graf continued her steady ascent towards the final, rolling over Lindsay Davenport, one of the circuit's power mongers, who was supposed to have blasted Graf off court. And in the other half of the draw, Martina Hingis, the game's premier ambassador of youth, chopped down all in her path, as she chased her first title at Roland Garros.

They met in cold, cloudy, blustery conditions at Court Centrale for an epic final. Hingis was coming off a 21-match winning streak, playing some of the most destructive tennis on the slow red clay. One wondered if Hingis's rebuke from last year, when she stated that this was an era of more athletic players and that Graf's time was done, was still ringing in the German's ears as she lost her serve and fell behind. But the script lost all its predictability from that point. The Parisian crowd gradually started to rediscover their love for the female steppenwolf that had once won a Grand Slam final before them without dropping a game.

And they started to find their voices with it. As they started to cheer for her vociferously, Graf drew level with Hingis in the second set. Finding her game being blunted with an unusual deftness of touch, Hingis grew petulant, and gave vent to her ire, and in the process conceded a penalty point for violation of on court etiquette. And the invincible visage slowly crumbled, as Graf swept past Hingis in the third set, and then finished it all at 6-2.

The crowd erupted as Graf threw up her hands and then held the trophy aloft as she told the adoring crowd: "This is the most incredible memory I'm going to have looking back on my career."

Moments later after celebrating with champagne, Graf declared that this French Open, her 16th, was also her last. No other player had graced the red clay more times in the Open era, and only Chris Evert, with seven titles, had greater success.

"This is definitely the last time I play here, without a doubt," Graf declared. "This memory should be the way it is. It's very, very special."

The next day, the 'Ice Queen' took out half a page in the French sporting daily l'Equipe on Friday to thank the French public for their support. "Thank you to all my French friends for the many years of support and those unforgettable moments that I had the opportunity to live in your company. From the bottom of my heart, thank you...," . Personally drafted in French and signed in her handwriting, the paper's management, charmed and touched by her gesture, decided to give Graf the space free of charge.

Sportsline wire reported on the tumult at Garros, stating that "They serenaded Steffi Graf so lovingly, she felt French. They booed Martina Hingis so viciously, she broke down in heaving sobs in her mother's arms and had to be coaxed back on the court for the awards ceremony. French Open fans all but carried Graf from the brink of defeat to her sixth and final title at Roland Garros on Saturday, while they treated Hingis like a national enemy."

Steffi Graf has won us over again. The fourteen-year-old, who raised eyebrows winning the Olympic demonstration event in 1984, won 107 titles and held the number one spot for 365 weeks, and then gave us all one of the game's most celebrated rivalries with Seles; the woman who left us with tears in our eyes even as she walked sombrely off court after heartbreaking failures to resurrect her crumbling career last year; the woman from whom one could barely raise a wave at the Flushing in 1988 after she won the U.S Open to make her the first woman to win a Golden Grand Slam, has shown us how to be human, fallible, vulnerable and still demonstrate the triumph of perseverance in the face of all adversity.

And this, she's done with flair, dishing a souffle of wonderment at Paris. I just can't wait for Wimbledon.