Long time ago… in a galaxy far far away.

 

2013 has been an outstanding season. Tennis wise, I’ve achieved more than I could ask for. Got my best and more regular results in competition; made my dream of hitting some balls with the Young Bull of the Pampas in Jan; and of course, also taking the clinic with the great Wilander back this past August. What a year to remember.

But also came to my mind that in 2013 I have some anniversaries to remember. Those special dates that represent milestones in your life.

 

Going back 20 years ago, in April/May 1993 I played my first final in a singles tournament. It was the Marlboro Open played in the city of Merlo (Buenos Aires). Being quite honest, that was an awful year; my dad had passed away in the first days of the New Year and with all the turmoil that such event represents in anybody’s life, tennis was the last thing in my mind. I had stop playing the previous spring when we got the news on my father’s health, and by the time this tournament showed up in the horizon I had not touched a racquet in almost six months.

Maybe because of that, or maybe because I wasn’t expecting anything from myself, I played some consistent tennis and worked my way deep in the draw. It was a strange tournament; for once, I remember the clay surface very dry and the clay itself was like an orange powder… almost weightless. That made a lot of my opponents very uncomfortable, while on my end I was just sliding, dropping, and volleying like there was no tomorrow. The final was supposed to be held on a given Sunday, but after a short Indian summer the whole week, we had some heavy rain on that day and the final was postponed for the following weekend. I surely had bad luck, got myself into bed with a dreadful angina and had to take some antibiotics to fight it back. I was okay to go for Saturday, but those drugs didn’t do any good to my stamina. During the first set I felt so short of breath that I could not play more than 3 or 4 balls in a row. My opponent was an okay player, no major weapon, but solid. He didn’t do much throughout the match, was more of a question of how I was performing to be honest. Got down 3-6 and 2-4 when I was able to pull it together and make a 7-5 comeback… to no avail… fatigue, stress, and disappointment made way to a final 2-6 that handled the win after an array of silly errors. That final, my first one in singles, had a long-lasting impression on me. It took me a number of years to finally shake it off and get into the winners circle. Still I consider it as a major step in the right direction when you look at the big picture. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, they say.

 

Going further back in time… 25 years ago, November 1988. It was the time of my first significant victory against a worthy opponent. Hugo Marcelo Bressan was a good friend of mine, and nice chap; but above all, he was a fantastic tennis player. Hugo had an unbelievable forehand drive with such power that any ball floating too casual on his side of the net was literally reduced to atoms in a matter of seconds. Let me level with you what are we talking about here. This guy was the fittest of them all, after a professional player, Hugo was the closest thing. Maybe not in technique (not because of a lack of it) but because he was in such superb form that he could outlast anybody I knew at the time. I mentioned his forehand. No top-spin, just pure flat raw power with the only sound of the ball breaking the sound barrier. No kidding, got once one in my stomach (my mistake, Hugo would rather lose the point before hitting someone on purpose) it took several weeks for the bruise to wane. On the backhand side he had a terrific one hand slice that he used over and over again to attack the net. It was low bounce and sticky, a real nightmare on hard courts. I took note of it as I used it as a mold for my own. It was so good that became a problem for Hugo to develop any other type of backhand, he tried a one wrist flat with no luck, and also a two wrist Chris Evert-like one but it was never as consistent as his slice. He hadn’t a great volley; but he was damn quick and his athleticism allowed him to jump, stretch, and bend to cover for his lack of ability. His overhead was consistent, powerful, and delivered confidence. He was a player capable of jumping and mid-way while in the air, change directions. One shot he was remarkable with was a kind of corkscrew he pulled on his forehand when a lob passed him and he didn’t have time to respond in fashion with an overhead. Instead of going with the in-between-the-legs (so popular in Argentina) he would win more points as he used to disguise the final direction with his body until he would unravel his hips and strike the ball. Stamina wise, he was from the Animal Kingdom: A bull and a camel… yeah weird stuff. Powerful as a bull, yet he had the stamina to run mile after mile. We had this deal: When we got to 6 games-all we would alternate playing a tie-break once, and the next time would be a conventional set with the regular 2 games gap. When the latter happened, he was the winner. How many sets he won 10-8, or 11-9… I lost count.

His only really weak point was his serve. He had a very short motion on his first serve, an alarming low toss and twisted in the air to slice the ball, the coordination was so complex that his rate of success was usually no more than 30 – 35%. He had to trust his second serve that was shockingly… the serve of an 85 years old (weak) lady. Sometimes that was still tricky because the rest of his game was so good that the opponents would missed the return as they were expecting something more… elaborated.

I met Hugo in primary school back in ‘85, and a year later we started playing. He was much better than me at the time. He won the first match quite easily; I was no contender for him. Then, in the second of our games, I had a breakthrough. I miraculously won a second set tie-break. I didn’t have a better serve or return at the time, but I found a way to disguise a short lob over his left shoulder that gave me the edge to grab a mini-break in that set. He came back strong in the third and crushed me, he had no mercy. In ’87 we played again twice with an easy win for him, and then a more even game he took 6-4, 6-4. I was happy I was getting closer, but that lonesome set from 1986 remained my only achievement against Hugo until November of ’88. My personal record until then was mediocre to say at least. I got wins to guys my level or below, but never someone of Hugo’s caliber. He was many steps above me on the tennis ladder so to speak. Hugo himself, had wins against Miguel Chana; another buddy of ours that was also a brilliant tennis player. Miguel got me 27-0 in single matches (some of them… triple bagels) by the end of ’87. And Hugo was neck-to-neck with the guy; so for me, doing well against Hugo was kind of redemption from the hell I had to go against Miguel.

The night before our match, as usual I would dinner light, go early to bed, and prepare the game plan. Hugo was a net crusher as he was so confident in his speed and his Steffi-Graf-like forehand, so I had to mix it up with passing shots, lobs and, sometimes, straight-to-the-body returns. The match started as usual with both of us studying the opponent, trying to accelerate the ball in the middle of a long rally, or suddenly dropping de ball and go to cover the angle. But for some reason, after the 4-all, Hugo had a disastrous service game. He double-faulted twice in a row, which made him took a lot of speed off his first serve, hence allowing me to put the ball away somehow easily. I could not believe I had taken the lead. That service game lasted probably 10 minutes, but it felt like an hour, I finally won hitting a fantastic backhand passing-shot down the line. 6-4. I was in Heaven, and Hugo… well he looked disoriented for a sec or two, spit on the court, and got ready to resume battle, it didn’t look like it bothered him that much. But Hugo was that kind of player, ice on the exterior and a volcano inside. He was again diligent with his serve and won in fashion, so did I with a new confident attitude. We kept the score even until 2-all when I broke him again and made an easy run for my first win. I left no doubt I dominated him in that second set. It seemed to me that Hugo’s mind was no longer in the game. He was gracious as always and congratulated me on my first win. It meant a big change in my mind and spirit; and fueled my ambition of becoming a much better player.

We kept playing many great matches, and as I was getting closer to his level, I was able to challenge him for victory. We would play on different venues each time, our matches were real marathons, 7-5, 8-6, 11-9 in the third set if tie-break was ruled out (usually those played to his advantage) or 7-6 if I was the one to choose… this time to my benefit. But matches were also a mental torture, we were friends and the result didn’t matter that much between us for the respect we had to each other. But with our friends, at school, that was something else. Everybody was asking the result of the match and making funny comments on the loser. Not that anybody else, besides Miguel, was a player. And Miguel would not make a funny comment on the outcome of a match. It was simply not his style. So kids are kids, and all that, but when you are in your teens, those comments can hurt. So the stakes were high and the pressure was rising on every encounter.

By mid-1989 the head-to-head was trailing 7-6 for Hugo. This time I got the turn to choose the venue of our next match. It would be at the Asociacion Alemana de Cultura Fisica de Quilmes (Club Aleman for most people – The “German Club”), were I was member. So we head out for another match. The bad thing about playing at that club was that there were only 3 courts, and over the weekend the demand was pretty high. You were allowed only 30 minutes slots for a singles match, and then would have to run to the booth to book another half an hour. So a 2.5 hours match like ours could take as long as 6 hours if you take into account the interruptions and waiting time. I was very tense that day; that, I remember quite clearly. It was MY club, I was the one behind in the H-2-H, and didn’t want to go back to school the following Monday and listen to all that crap on what a loser I was, etc… We started as usual, each one doing his thing. But that day Hugo was particularly loose and he was hitting winners from everywhere. Thank God I was serving well, which allowed me to keep him in sight from a score standpoint, but that was not enough. Hugo won 6-4 the first set. We kept swapping courts that morning to keep playing continuously as much as possible. Due to the rain forecast, not many people went to the club to risk for just a few minutes of tennis if it was supposed to rain. The day became grey as dark clouds scattered in the sky. My very soul sank when he got an early break in the second set. I was stressed out to the max. I was doomed, the result seemed inevitable. At 2-4 and my serve, the sky opened and a light rain made us stop. We went for the Club House and booked a court for an hour later. We had time to grab a bite and I remember mentioning Hugo on how tense I was. I didn’t care anymore about the match. What bothered me the most was that the last 3 or 4 matches (some of them victories) were no longer fun to play. Looking into the future, if that would be the case I wanted no more matches with my good friend. From that conversation it was clear that Hugo was going thru a similar feeling, and then was when I got the idea. “No matter what is the outcome of today’s match, this is the last official game we will ever play” The head-to-head would be framed at this time and from then on, we would not share our scores with anyone else”. I felt a warm feeling in my chest, finishing 8-6 down with Hugo wasn’t bad after all… but only if I could win this last one to level the score… And incredibly, that was exactly what happened. I leveled to 4-all and went on to win the second set 6-4 and the third by 6-2. Final official H-2-H: 7-7. Perfect.

 

We kept playing for the rest of our time in high school, until Hugo shifted to Paddle-Tennis and left the courts for good. We had memorable “un-official” battles, I have a fond memory of his last win using the venerable Prince Pro 110, broke his strings and I handled him my sisters’ frame. He went on to win 7-5, 7-5 playing some aggressive tennis. He changed for a Dunlop Max 200G (Graf and McEnroe weapon of choice back then) which made him more dangerous. Also remember one of my best matches I ever played at CAQ. It was a superb game played with a red sun background on a late September afternoon in 1990.  

 

 

 

 

But going back to that last official match… To this day I feel that Hugo lost on purpose. He fought hard that second set, but he didn’t put much of an effort on the third. I’m sure was not for lack of respect, on the contrary, because above all Hugo was a Gentleman… almost with a flair of another time. Never again I had such a gallant rivalry, nor feared an opponent like him.

 

Yours,

 

Iron Gaucho