A Champion's Mind - Pete Sampras

abandon the strategy for a few games, then come back to it. At times, it was very effective.
Over the years, I also came to feel that if I stayed with him, I could slowly overpower him—in the end,
he was more of a finesse guy than a power guy.
WAYNE FERREIRA (7–6) . . . Now there’s a surprise for you, right? I’m not even sure why Ferreira gave me
problems. He certainly never worried me the way some guys did. He moved well, returned well, and had
a fine serve and a huge forehand, but most of all he came into matches with me with a really positive
outlook.
The real question was why Ferreira could play me so tough but look so fragile, mentally, and falter
against so many other, weaker, guys. But that’s one for him to answer. One thing was for sure—there was
no pressure when he played me. It was all gravy for him. I apparently motivated him and made him a real
warrior, mentally. He beat me on a few occasions when I was really playing well, and all I could do was
shrug and say, “That’s Ferreira for you.”
LLEYTON HEWITT (4–5) . . . He loved players who served and volleyed and tried to pressure him, so I
played right into his hands—as he demonstrated in that U.S. Open final of 2001. Lleyton was one of the
few guys who really could resist the onslaught of a high-quality attacker. It was very tough to get the ball
by him, or to ace him. He was quicker than Andre, and therefore passed a little better. Lleyton relied on
foot speed and quickness to outmaneuver opponents, and he was young enough to run and concentrate all
day if need be. He was a lot like Michael Chang, right down to the way he loved having a target—a guy at
the net, forcing him to select a specific shot and placement.
Lleyton was tough, too—street-fighter tough. But I never had trouble with that. Psychologically, this is a
pretty rough game, and Lleyton’s intensity rubbed a lot of guys the wrong way. He was always yelling,
“Come awwwwwn!” I didn’t mind that—it was his own energy he was wasting. For a period I felt that
Lleyton might really dominate. His game translated well from surface to surface, and the guys had a hard
time figuring out a strategy against him. He won the U.S. Open and followed it up with a win at
Wimbledon, but then a few things happened.
For one, Roger Federer improved, and he figured Lleyton out cold. The game in general also improved
while Lleyton was at the top. Guys were playing with a little more power, partly thanks to advances in
racket technology, but fewer of them were playing into Hewitt’s hands. Lleyton liked having a target, but
in his era guys stopped coming to the net. Hewitt was a victim of his time.
As Lleyton became more and more vulnerable, he was having to work harder and harder to win
matches. When you play with a grinder’s mentality like Lleyton did, you rely a lot on mental intensity. But
no matter how tough you are, it’s hard to keep up that hardworking, patient style, week in, week out.
Eventually it catches up with you and you get a little burned out. Then the vultures gather.
GORAN IVANISEVIC (12–6) . . . Goran’s greatest asset was that huge lefty serve. It was just too damned
good most of the time, especially on grass. It wasn’t even a matter of that heavy slice a lefty can produce.
Goran hit his serve with a fast, almost rushed action, and the result was a quick, heavy ball that stayed
low.
Goran was smart—he knew that he wasn’t going to win many baseline rallies, or even volley his way
to titles the way Stefan Edberg could. He designed his entire game plan around that serve, and he
designed it to win Wimbledon—the tournament where my own game worked best. Goran’s second
delivery was big, but I always felt I could find it, get some stick on it. That was partly because I wasn’t
that worried about Goran’s second shot. I could play my return a little safer and still think I had a chance,
which wasn’t the case with a Rafter or an Edberg.