A Champion's Mind - Pete Sampras

him to chip and charge. I would wait for the inevitable, small opportunities that, if converted, could turn
the match around.
When I woke up on the morning of the final, I felt great. I had accomplished a lot, getting to the U.S.
Open final. I felt pretty content, and that probably explains why I didn’t feel nervous at all. I was happy to
have gotten to the final. It was a blustery day, with the wind swirling around even more than usual in the
bowl of Armstrong stadium. There was one mitigating factor when the match got under way: I was
suffering from cramps and dehydration owing to a case of food poisoning. It was something I downplayed
because I believe in the Aussie rule: If you’re fit enough to start the match, you’re fit enough not to make
excuses about why you lost. And ultimately, my performance in the match had much less to do with any
physical issue than mental, emotional ones that were coming to a head.
I came out pretty strong and won the first set. But it was a terrible struggle from there. The “new”
Stefan Edberg was on full display. He was full of emotion, pumping his fists, yelling, doing everything to
show that he had fire in his belly. He won the second set. At the critical juncture of the match—a third-set
tiebreaker—I threw in an ill-timed double fault to give Edberg a 6–4 lead and double set point. Stefan
capitalized to go up two sets to one, and then I double-faulted away the first game of the fourth set. In a
blink, it was 3–0 to Edberg. I went through the motions the rest of the way; I packed it in. Afterward, I
told the press: “As the match wore on, I was running out of gas. I was very, very tired, maybe more
mentally than physically. Mentally, I was telling myself that my body just couldn’t do it, and as a result, it
didn’t.”
Once again, I was talking from the heart, but what I said was a curious combination of truth and copout.
For instance, my physical problems were fatigue and dehydration, yet I admitted that I was more tired
“mentally.” That’s not even logical, but nobody picked up on it. I admitted that my mind was telling me
that my body couldn’t do it, when my mind should have been telling my sore body that I could. In short, I
was explaining away my inability and unwillingness to dig deep. It wasn’t just that I had played “lousy,” I
also played without heart, which is a greater sin.
In the aftermath, I was stunned and confused. Over the next few weeks, while I recovered from the long
hard-court summer, a few painful truths would slowly crystallize in my mind.
Shortly after the U.S. Open, we played our Davis Cup semifinal against Sweden on indoor clay at the
Target Center in Minneapolis. Because clay was not my best surface, I played only doubles—with
McEnroe. We toughed out a real war with one of the best doubles squads of the era, Stefan Edberg and
Anders Jarryd.
This was my first Davis Cup experience as a “doubles specialist,” and I was surprised by how much I
enjoyed the assignment. Doubles is an enjoyable sideshow at most tournaments, but it has a starring role
in Davis Cup because of the format. As the third and only match on Saturday, doubles is the kingmaker in
Cup play. Most Davis Cup teams that enjoyed long-term success were anchored by a great doubles team.
When a tie is 1–1, which is often the case after the Friday opening singles matches, getting to that 2–1
lead can be huge. It also didn’t hurt my own enthusiasm level, or results, that my partner on some key
occasions was McEnroe. Remember, it was McEnroe’s own longtime partner, Peter Fleming, who
famously quipped, when asked to name the best doubles team of all time, “John McEnroe and anyone.”
We went on to meet the Swiss team in the 1992 final, on an indoor hard court in Forth Worth, Texas.
Gorman, perhaps still mindful of Lyon, decided to play it safe. He named Courier and Andre, who were
both playing very well, to the singles slots, and put me down for doubles, again partnered with Johnny
Mac.
That was fine with me—Andre had proven himself a great Davis Cup singles player. He’s an emotional
guy who really gets into all the hoopla. Jim was right there with Andre as a Davis Cup warrior. He gave