A Champion's Mind - Pete Sampras

player in the nation. I was the ideal guy to have on the squad alongside Andre Agassi. But Gorman
seemed to completely forget that I was a rookie on the tour, and he discounted the unique pressure for
which Davis Cup is renowned. For some reason, playing for your country on a team can really get to you.
Some players are inspired and react heroically; others get cold feet and feel intimidated by nationalistic
pressure. Throwing a green player into the cauldron in an away final before a wildly partisan crowd was
an enormous gamble.
When I arrived in Lyon, I found the anxiety and stress surprisingly high. I guess that’s partly because all
these USTA officials were around, like they always are at Davis Cup, looking over the team’s shoulder. It
also had something to do with the fact that this Davis Cup final was a huge, huge deal in France—it
seemed like the entire French national press corps had descended on the venue (the Gerland Sports
Palace) for the final, hoping to record how France won its first Davis Cup since the days of yore when the
famed “Four Musketeers”—Jean Borotra, Jacques Brugnon, Henri Cochet, and René Lacoste—reigned
over international tennis.
We had a team Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel in Lyon the day before the start of the tie. It was
prepared by a famous chef, but even that event was slightly strained, because we were together with a
bunch of tennis officials, and we all had to wear a coat and tie. I’ve got nothing against appropriate dress,
but it seemed that everything was ceremonial, forced, difficult . . . when what we really needed as a team
was to relax. All these things bore down on me extra hard, because I had been nominated as the number
one singles player for the United States. It was like an NFL rookie quarterback getting his first start in the
Super Bowl.
Gorman was also uptight; that became evident to me. We were always having these team meetings, and
to me that didn’t make sense. They just magnified everything and added to the stress. All my life, I
preferred to operate with a low profile—I’d rather be understated than dramatic, cool and aloof rather
than confrontational and all gung ho. I just don’t believe in making things bigger than they need to be, even
some things that may seem awfully big, like winning the Davis Cup. At the end of the day, it’s easier to
take the attitude that they’re just tennis matches; you go out, do your best, let the chips fall where they may.
I was happy to talk tennis with Gore, our veteran captain and a former Davis Cup star himself. I was
glad to hear what Andre Agassi thought. But these meetings—everyone was just sitting around talking
about the next day’s practice or the upcoming pairings. Ken Flach, one of the doubles players (partnered
with Robbie Seguso), looked at me in one of these meetings and asked, “You going to serve and volley on
both serves, Pete?” I just looked at him, thinking, I’m one of the top players in the world, and you’re a
doubles specialist who can’t even make it in singles. Where do you get off, asking how I’m going to
play?
It sounds arrogant, but I was just feeling prickly and uptight. At the same time, though, I never went into
a match with a cut-and-dried game plan. I knew my own strengths and the kind of game I felt most
comfortable playing, and I tried to be aware of what my opponents did well or badly, and how to get to
their games. But I always liked to “feel” my way into a match, fine-tune what I would do based on my
level of play and the feedback I was getting from across the net.
The quality of my serve on any given day often dictated how aggressively I played. My feeling for how
I moved on a given surface (or on a given day), combined with the quality of my opponent’s return game,
determined how often I followed my serve to the net. I operated by instinct, figuring things out as I went
along. Flach’s question put me on the spot, seeking a commitment I wasn’t prepared to make. It was
innocent enough, I guess; my reaction spoke volumes about how defensive and tense I was feeling.
On top of everything else, the French singles players were veterans capable of playing lights-out tennis.
There were no question marks about the team; if anyone could handle the pressure of playing at home, it
was these guys. The adulation of the home crowd would inspire them. If the fast carpet suited my game, it
suited theirs just as well.