An exciting day of tennis at the Optima Open on Saturday, in front of a sell-out crowd.
3 entertaining matches with:
– 2 players I had never seen play: Mark Philippoussis and Thomas Enqvist
– 2 players I had never seen play against each other: the two legends Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe
and 2 players I’ve seen countless times: Guy Forget and Henri Leconte

Ballboys warm-up:

Optima Open 2012

Optima Open 2012

Optima Open 2012

First match: Thomas Enqvist vs Mark Philippoussis. The winner of the match will meet Goran Ivanisevic in the final on Sunday.

Former top 20 Sabine Appelmans presenting the players:

Sabine Appelmans

Mark Philippoussis and Thomas Enqvist

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Optima Open 2012

Henri Leconte

Last year, I’ve had the chance to win 2 entry tickets for the Optima Open, the belgian stop of the ATP Champions Tour. I really had a great time and enjoyed watching Borg, Wilander and co. Read part 1 and part 2 of my recap.
No free tickets this time, but I’ll be at the Optima Open again this year, and can’t wait to watch the match between BorgMcEnroe on Saturday. So stay tuned for photos, video and reports.

Bjorn Borg

9 players will take part to the tournament: Bjorn Borg, John McEnroe, Mats Wilander, Goran Ivanisevic, Mark Philippoussis, Henri Leconte, Guy Forget, Thomas Enqvist and defending champion Carlos Moya. Do you think the 1998 French Open champion will retain his title this year?

Who will win the Optima Open ?

  • Goran Ivanisevic (45%, 5 Votes)
  • Carlos Moya (18%, 2 Votes)
  • Thomas Enqvist (18%, 2 Votes)
  • Mark Philippoussis (9%, 1 Votes)
  • Henri Leconte (9%, 1 Votes)
  • Guy Forget (0%, 0 Votes)

Total Voters: 11

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Who's your favorite among the players of the Optima Open?

  • Mats Wilander (36%, 4 Votes)
  • Goran Ivanisevic (27%, 3 Votes)
  • Bjorn Borg (9%, 1 Votes)
  • John McEnroe (9%, 1 Votes)
  • Henri Leconte (9%, 1 Votes)
  • Thomas Enqvist (9%, 1 Votes)
  • Carlos Moya (0%, 0 Votes)
  • Mark Philippoussis (0%, 0 Votes)
  • Guy Forget (0%, 0 Votes)

Total Voters: 11

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Carlos Moya

More infos on the Optima Open official website.

Enjoy this 4-part Rolex documentary retracing Wimbledon’s history from Suzanne Lenglen to Rod Laver to Roger Federer. A must-see for every tennis fan.

Part 1 (1877-1939): the foundations of Wimbledon

Suzanne Lenglen, designer Ted Tinling, Gussie Moran, Bill Tilden, Jean Borotra, Henri Cochet, René Lacoste, Don Budge, Helen Wills, Fred Perry

Part 2 (1945-1977): a brand new era

Virginia Wade, Jack Kramer, Maureen Connolly, Althea Gibson, Ann Jones, Louise Brough, Harry Hopman, Ken McGregor, Rod Laver, Frank Sedgman, Cliff Drysdale, WCT, Handsome Eight, Ken Rosewall, Margaret Court, Evonne Goolagong, Billie Jean King

Part 3 (1978-1999): the Golden Era

Bjorn Borg, John McEnroe, Chris Evert, Martina Navatilova, Steffi Graf, Boris Becker, Stefan Edberg, Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi

Part 4 (2000-2011): Sampras, Federer, Venus and Serena

Pete Sampras, Pat Rafter, Roger Federer, Goran Ivanisevic, Venus Williams, Serena Williams, Maria Sharapova, Rafael Nadal, Andy Roddick, John Isner, Nicolas Mahut

Andre Agassi, Wimbledon 1992

Extract of Andre Agassi‘s autobiography Open:

The talent assembled in London in 1992 is stunning. There’s Courier, ranked number one, fresh off two slam victories. There’s Pete, who keeps getting better. There’s Stefan Edberg, who’s playing out of his mind. I’m the twelfth seed, and the way I’ve been playing I should be seeded lower.

In my first-round match, against Andrei Chesnokov, from Russia, I play like a low seed. I lose the first set. Frustrated, I rip into myself, curse myself, and the umpire gives an official warning for saying fuck. I almost turn on him and fire a few fuck-fuck-fucks. Instead I decide to shock him, shock everyone, by taking a breath and being composed. Then I do something more shocking. I win the next three sets.

I’m in the quarters. Against Becker, who’s reached six o the last seven Wimbledon finals. This is his de facto home court, his honey hole. But I’ve been seeing his serve well lately. I win in five sets, played over two days.

In the semis I face McEnroe, three time Wimbledon champion. He’s thirty-three, nearing the end of his career, and unseeded. Given his underdog status, and his legendary accomplishments, the fans want him to win, of course. Part of me wants him to win also. But I beat him in three sets. I’m in the final.
I’m expecting to face Pete, but he loses his semifinal match to Goran Ivanisevic, a big, strong serving machine from Croatia. I’ve played Ivanisevic twice before, and both times he’s shellacked me in straight sets. So I feel for Pete, and I know I’ll be joining him soon. I have no chance against Ivanisevic. It’s a middleweight versus a heavyweight. The only suspense is whether it will be a knowkout or a TKO.

As powerful as Ivanisevic’s serve is under normal circumstances, today it’s a work of art. He’s acing me left and right, monster serves that the speed gun clocks at 138 miles an hour. But it’s not just the speed, it’s the trajectory. They land at a 75-degree angle.
[…] He wins the first set, 7-6. I don’t break him once. I concentrate on not overeacting, on beathing in, beathing out, remaining patient. When the thought crosses my mind that I’m on losing my fourth slam final, I casually set that thought aside. In the second set Ivanisevic gives me a few freebies, makes a few mistakes and I break him. I take the second set, then the third. Which makes me feel almost worse, because once again I’m a set away from a slam.
Ivanisevic rises up in the fourth set and destroys me. I’ve made the Croat mad. He loses only a handful of points in the process. Here we go again. I can see tomorrow’s headlines as plain as the racket in my hand. As the fifth set begins I run in place to get the blood flowing and tell myself one thing: You want this. You do not want to lose, not this time. The problem in the last three slams was that you didn’t want them enough, and therefore you didn’t bring it, but this one you want, so this time you need to let Ivanisevic and everyone else in this joint know you want it.

Now Ivanisevic’s serving at 4-5. He double faults. Twice. He’s down 0-30. I haven’t broken this guy in the last hour and a half and now he’s breaking himself. He misses another first serve.He’s coming apart. I know it. I see it. No one knows better than I what coming apart looks like. A puff of chalk shoots up as if he hit the line with an assault rifle. Then he hits another uneturnable serve. Suddenly it’s 30-all.
He misses another first serve, makes the second. I crush a return, he hits a half volley, I run and pass him and start the long walk back to the baseline. I tell myself, You can win this thing with just one swing. One swing. You’ve never been this close. You may never be again. […]

He tosses the ball, serves to my backhand; I jump in the air, swing with all my strength , but I’m so tight that the ball to his backhand side has mediocre pace. Somehow he misses the easy volley.

His ball smacks the net and just like that, after twenty-two years and twenty-two million swings of a tennis racket, I’m the 1992 Wimbledon champion.

Extract: Serious by John McEnroe

Some people talk about my 6-1 6-2 6-2 destruction of Connors in the 1984 Wimbledon as my greatest match ever, but the truth is – between you and me – I thought Jimmy was just a little flat that day.
I was also having one of those days, when everything seemed to be going almost too right. I got out of bed in the morning feeling great, and in my practice session, the ball looked as big as a cantaloupe. Since I always manage to worry when things are going well, I stopped the session early – I was afraid of leaving my best stuff in practice.

But it just kept getting better.
In fairness, Connors had had a tough semi against Lendl, a four-set slugfest on a very hot afternoon,while I had won in three agaisnt that feisty Aussie whippersnapper Pat Cash. Cash was a tough serve-and-volleyer in that great Down-Under tadition, still a little green at nineteen, but a great athlete and a fine tennis player. I thought he was a comer – especially after he shouldered me on a changeover during the second-set tiebreaker. That, I felt, was a very interesting move: here I was, number one in the world, a two-time Wimbledon champ, one of the game’s grand old men at twenty five … This kid’s got the right attitude, I thought.

Meanwhile, my attitude had utterly changed. I had wasted too much energy at the French by getting angry, I realized; from the first match at the All England Club that year, I was determined not to do anything that would derail me from avenging Roland Garros – my only loss in fifty-two matches so fa in ’84 – and winning my hat-trick Wimbledon. I was on a five-match winning steak against Jimmy, and I felt confident I could make it six.
I just didn’t know it would be so easy.

The heat wave had continued, but I was hotter than the weather that Sunday afternoon. From the start, Connors just couldn’t find his rhythm, while I was serving unbelievably well – slicing it wide, popping it up in the middle, doing whatever I wanted. I hit seventy-four percent of my first serves in the match, with ten aces and no double faults. I had three –three – unforced errors in the match.

That’s the best I ever played

I said in the press conference afterward. It was also the best I’d ever acted at Wimbledon: The London tabloids dubbed me ‘Saint John‘.

From McEnroe‘s autobiography Serious:

Connors was never intimidated by anyone – at least he never looked that way – and he was in the midst of an amazing year. From the jump, we played a very aggressive final, nothing like either of my last two against Borg, where the play had been more consistently fine, but also more subdued.
Every match I ever played against Jimmy was like a prizefight. At Wimbledon that day, I was ahead two sets to one, we went to tiebreaker in the fourth, and then I was three points from winning the match. Yet somehow, I just could’t dig deep enough to pull it out – maybe Jimmy was just hungrier. In retrospect, I should’ve said to myself, ‘Don’t let it go to a fifth set – stop him here or you’re finished.’

But I didn’t stop him, and when we went to the fifth, I think my body language showed what I was really feeling: between my ankle and my state of mind, I had done well just getting this far in the tournament. And that was as far as I went in the longest final in Wimbledon history.
Connors pulled off an amazing feat – he won his second Wimbledon eight years after his first – and I would have to wait another twelve months before I could prove I wasn’t a flash in the pan.”