…next year, I won’t be comparing seasons 1994 and 2024. Instead, I plan to post short biographies that I’ve written for my e-book “…from Phil Dent to Jannik Sinner…” (published in March 2021) focusing on the best singles players of the Open Era. I’ve included 340 short biographies in the e-book and intend to share over 100 on my website. These will be slightly modified versions, adjusted to suit my website and hyperlinked. This project will be titled
“…from John McEnroe (b. 1959) to Kei Nishikori (b. 1989)”
aiming to showcase the best players of the past forty years, spanning the most successful individuals from the 1980s, 90s, 00s, and 10s. This year in December, I’ve already posted fifteen biographies. Next two years, I aim to post between 3 to 7 biographies each month. Whether it’ll be completed within those two years remains uncertain; it largely depends on potential retirements. Notably, ten very good/great players born in the 80s are still active as of the end of 2023. You can find the links to the biographies here. Additionally, I’ll continue to post picture-stats of the most significant matches from the Open Era. Furthermore, I’ll keep posting pic-stats of Federer’s finals. As of the end of 2023, there are 138 out of his 157 finals available on my website; I guess the remaining 19 finals will be posted by the end of 2025. This means 87% of his finals are wrapped up, it’s 84% in Đoković’s case, 83% in Nadal’s.
Rivalry at the Top
In 1993, the entire season was captivated by the rivalry between two US players: Pete Sampras and Jim Courier. One year older Courier continued his astounding form on clay and hardcourts, which had begun at Indian Wells ’91, while Sampras finally lived up to the expectations set by his US Open ’90 title. However, the latter part of the season saw an abrupt end to this rivalry. Courier lost his form, and concurrently, Michael Stich, who had been relatively successful earlier in the season, surged, dominating the autumn of ’93. Looking back, Stich may be regarded as the most successful player in the final quarter of the season, clinching three indoor titles, two of which were highly prestigious (especially Frankfurt), and leading Germany to victories over Sweden and Australia in the Davis Cup, triumphing over almost all the top-ranked players of that time.
Thirty years later, the first half of the season was marked by a rivalry among three players: Novak Đoković, Carlos Alcaraz, and Daniil Medvedev. Jannik Sinner joined in the latter part of the season, initially in a more cautious mode as his Wimbledon semifinal and victory in Toronto were partially due to very favorable draws. In the autumn, he ascended to a higher level, defeating all three higher-ranked players multiple times, including Medvedev thrice and Đoković twice.
The Fall
Guy Forget, one of the leading players of the early ’90s, suffered a severe injury at Hamburg ’93, sidelining him for nearly a year and causing a significant drop in rankings from no. 17 to 623. That year was critical for Ivan Lendl, the most dominant player of the ’80s, as it was the first time since his teenage years that he was unable to be competitive in the “best of five” format. He also lost his edge in crucial moments of tighter sets, a trend that continued in 1994, leading to his retirement at the age of 34. Andre Agassi, a Top 10 player from 1988 to 1992, experienced the first of his two major crises in his long career (the second would occur in 1997), resulting in a plummet to no. 24 by the end of the season.
Three decades later, more elite players had a disastrous season, especially Rafael Nadal, one of the greatest players of all time, who participated in only two events at the beginning of the year and dropped from no. 2 to 670 (two places below him is Marin Čilić, the former US Open champion, who also played just two events this year, beginning it as no. 17). Nadal’s compatriot Pablo Carreño Busta falls down from no. 13 to 606 having played three ATP events (two Challengers). Nine years younger than Nadal, Nick Kyrgios played just one event, resulting in his disappearance from the ATP ranking after being ranked no. 22. Matteo Berrettini, another significant name in the past few years, faced physical problems throughout the ’23 year, plummeting from no. 14 to 92. The 27-year-old Berrettini began and ended the year positively, first aiding Italy in reaching the final of the United Cup, and then concluding the year on the bench, motivating his younger Italian compatriots during the Davis Cup triumph.
The Rise
Nineteen-year-old Andrei Medvedev was a rising star in 1993. The Ukrainian, with a somewhat wooden yet efficient style, proved to be successful on all surfaces. Many pundits viewed him as a potential main rival for Pete Sampras in the second half of the ’90s. However, Medvedev’s peak was actually reached the following year, before he turned 20. Although four of Medvedev’s peers finished their careers with more accomplishments, in 1993, none of them was frequently mentioned in the same breath as Medvedev. Here’s a ranking comparison of the best players born in 1974 at the end of 1993:
6 – Andrei Medvedev
76 – Àlex Corretja
88 – Thomas Enqvist
102 – Yevgeny Kafelnikov
372 – Tim Henman (before his ATP debut)
Two prodigies born in 2003, Carlos Alcaraz and Holger Rune, confirmed their tremendous potential displayed a year before. As I write this, it seems they along with two years older Jannik Sinner – could create a new “Big 3” in the ’20s. However, it’s a shallow assumption that doesn’t account for super-talented players born in the mid-2000s who might emerge in a few years. The current best teenager, Arthur Fils, is ranked 36. My early estimation suggests he may have a more successful career than a fellow Frenchman, Gaël Monfils.
Veterans
The age of veterans shifted from the age of 30 to 35 over thirty years. In 1993, there were few players who could turn 30 and still pose a threat. One of them was Ivan Lendl, mentioned earlier, but at 33, he reached his physical limits. Other famous players in their thirties who were approaching the twilight of their careers included Brad Gilbert (32), Anders Järryd (32), as well as Mikael Pernfors and Henri Leconte, both at 30. The former French Open champion Andrés Gómez decided to retire at 33 in 1993 while four years older Björn Borg, the icon of the 70s, finally played the last match in his professional career, ultimately completing his retirement which had been initiated… ten years earlier. Thirty years later the most significant name to finish career is John Isner (38), a man who brought serving and playing tie-breaks to another level.
In 2023, Novak Đoković defied the age paradigm by securing three major titles and enjoying one of the best seasons of his illustrious career at the age of 36. Other players from his generation still achieved notable results: Andy Murray, only seven days older than Đoković, reached the final in Doha; 37-year-old Gaël Monfils triumphed in Stockholm; his contemporary Richard Gasquet commenced the season with a title in Auckland, and 38-year-old Stan Wawrinka was a runner-up in Umag. Feliciano López, aged 42, reached the quarterfinals in his farewell event this year (Mallorca). Thirty years ago the oldest player to win an ATP match was Jimmy Connors (41). Below is the ranking of players aged 35 and above in the Top 100:
1 – Novak Đoković
42 – Andy Murray
49 – Stan Wawrinka
74 – Gaël Monfils
76 – Richard Gasquet
Game-styles
In 1993, the trend initiated in the late ’80s/early ’90s continued, transitioning from aluminium racquets to graphite ones (Cédric Pioline was a significant exception), which led to increased serve-and-volleyers garnering points directly behind their serves, primarily focusing on tie-breaks. Notably, Pete Sampras, Michael Stich, Goran Ivanišević, and Richard Krajicek epitomized this style, contrasting with players like John McEnroe (finished his career at the end of 1992, but took part in two exhibition events of ’93), Stefan Edberg or Pat Cash (due to injury he missed the entire ’93 season), who were faithful to the chip-and-charge strategy as returners. Boris Becker stood somewhat in between; in the mid-’80s, he was a prototype for players who emerged in the early ’90s. Canadian Greg Rusedski entered the scene in 1993, known later for breaking his own records in serve-speed as well as being super dependent on tie-breaks. At that time, the magical velocity touched 200 kph (125 mph) – rarely crossed by servers. Other young player, who gathered some attention in 1993 it was Australian Patrick Rafter, a follower of the McEnroe/Edberg tradition. These two “R” native English speakers would face each other in an unexpected US Open ’97 final, and Rafter’s finesse triumphed over a show of brute force in a duel of two different S/V mindsets. Rusedski finished the year 1993 ranked 50th, Rafter 16 places below. More than four years later they’ll enter an event trying to become world’s no. 1 (Key Biscayne ’98).
At the end of 1993 in the Top 20, there were eight serve-and-volleyers, nine offensive baseliners, and three defensive baseliners (noting that Michael Chang was improving his serve, transforming into an offensive baseliner in the mid-’90s). The landscape is somewhat simplistic as players often adjusted their styles based on the surface (carpet was still popular, encouraging players to more offensive attitude indoors). The ratio of one-handed and double-handed players inside the Top 20 was pretty balanced.
In contrast, today, only two players among the Top 20 use one-handed backhands (Stefanos Tsitsipas & Grigor Dimitrov), and there’s a single style prevailing across players – offensive baselining – regardless of the surface. Among the current top twenty, only Alex de Minaur and Cameron Norrie adopt a more defensive approach during baseline exchanges. Termed “defensive baseliners,” their gameplay differs significantly from the excellent clay-courters of the mid-’90s, such as Sergi Bruguera and Thomas Muster, who operated deeper behind the baseline, with higher net clearance.
Statistical summary of these two seasons here
Born: August 16, 1964 in Grand Island (New York)
Height: 1.74 m
Plays: Right-handed
Alongside Aaron Krickstein (their match in Antwerp ’86), Arias was expected to succeed Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe at the zenith of U.S. tennis in the latter half of the 1980s. They were both the inaugural “products” of Nick Bollettieri’s renowned academy. Arias was merely 16 years and 10 months old when he claimed his first significant title – the mixed-doubles crown at the French Open ’81, partnering his female counterpart Andrea Jaeger; a few months later, he became the youngest player (at the time) to compete in the US Open, retiring at 3:3 in the third set against Harold 
Solomon after losing in tie-breaks the first two sets.
He entered the Top 100 before turning 17, and the pinnacle of his career unfolded around age 20 – he shockingly triumphed in Rome ’83, then proved his mettle in prestigious tournaments where was stopped in later stages by the era’s top three players (US Open, Dallas, French Open), and a soon-to-be top player in the world Stefan Edberg in the first Open Era Olympic Games – as a demonstration sport for the second time in sixty years (only 21 year-old or younger men could participate). He ascended to the Top 5 as a teenager, yet those three lost matches to the game’s giants exposed his limitations; while it was improbable he’d become the world’s best, few anticipated his descent into mediocrity in the latter 1980s (his sole notable result being the Monte Carlo ’87 final).
Arias exemplified rapid exploitation. He had secured five titles before turning twenty and added none to his résumé thereafter (losing seven finals in the years 1985-1991). Still relatively young at 29 years old, he retired following several lackluster years and persistent injuries. Unexpectedly, he re-emerged for his cameo ATP event four years later – navigating the qualifying rounds in Washington ’98 (defeating Doug Flach and Eric Taino) to capitalize on a favorable draw and Wade McGuire’s (7-20 main-level record) injury in the first round… though he stood no chance against Wayne Ferreira in the second round.
Arias reflects on his career: “At 19, I made one critical mistake that altered my career. I contracted mono and continued playing, which enlarged my spleen and triggered liver issues. I was prescribed three months of bed rest. I began reviewing all the scrapbooks my mother had compiled, and I had two troubling thoughts: the first was, ‘if I never accomplish anything else in tennis, I’ve already done well.’ What you say manifests. I never truly achieved anything else I deemed noteworthy, though I won some significant matches. The second thought was even more unsettling: ‘I didn’t want to be No. 1 in the world anymore.’ The fame was too intense for my liking. I wanted to enjoy a movie without everyone recognizing me.” Yet the truth is that under Bollettieri’s guidance, Arias honed a potent top-spin forehand with a wooden racket, a period of transition to graphite rackets, and from the mid-1980s onward, several moderate players adeptly countered Arias’ top-spins once equipped with modern gear. Moreover, Arias’ backhand lacked fluidity; being short in stature, once his primary weapon was neutralized, he had no other arsenal to challenge the tennis elite.
Trivia: Arias was implicated in arguably the most humiliating defeat of the U.S. Davis Cup team in the 1980s. In the 1987 first round, Americans traveled to Paraguay as overwhelming favorites; Arias lost two rubbers, the second pivotal one against the obscure Hugo Chapacu [ranked 282] after 5 hours and 22 minutes, squandering three match points, the first while leading 5:1 in the decider! Another striking Arias defeat in the 1980s occurred at Barcelona ’84, where he fell in the quarterfinals to Sweden’s Joakim Nyström 6-2, 4-6, 14-16 – Arias trailed 1:5 in the third set yet held a match point at 12:11. That unfortunate loss actually meant Arias’ departure from tennis elite.
Career record: 283–222 [ 222 events ]
Career titles: 5
Highest ranking: No. 5
Best GS results:
Roland Garros (quarterfinal 1984)
US Open (semifinal 1983)
World Team Cup champion 1984
Bronze medallist of the Olympics (Los Angeles ’84)
Born: September 15, 1971 in Johannesburg (Gauteng)
Height: 1.83 m
Plays: Right-handed (two-handed backhand)
Along with Richard Krajicek, (and Carlos Costa, MaliVai Washington to a lesser extent), Ferreira was the most significant revelation of the 1992 season. They were both 20-year-olds when they reached the Australian Open ’92 semifinals. Krajicek delighted the tennis world with a booming serve and exceptional volleying skills, while Ferreira showcased a lethal forehand. Ferreira’s career proved lengthy and rewarding; in a sense, he became an emblem of Grand 
Slam events, never missing a major between the Australian Open ’91 and US Open ’04 (as many as 56 consecutive Grand Slams – a record at the time), when he recognized it would be his not only final tournament at that level, but also his last main-level event altogether (332nd in total).
Despite such numerous appearances at majors, and a commendable five-set record, he never experienced a year as successful at Slams as in 1992, when he followed up the Aussie semifinal with a US Open quarterfinal and a fourth-round showing at Wimbledon (in all those events, he was ultimately defeated by exceptional players on Centre Courts). To me, he is regarded as the finest Open Era player never to reach a major final. He came nowhere close; in 1992 as well as in 2003, he had little chance in Melbourne, facing Stefan Edberg and Andre Agassi respectively in the semifinals. Agassi was indeed Ferreira’s nightmarish adversary. They met eleven times, and only once did Ferreira come close to victory, in their match no. 6 – at the Olympic Games in Atlanta ’96. The South African led 5:3* (30-all) in the decider when netted Agassi’s conservative second serve before succumbing 5-7, 6-4, 5-7. Against the other premier player of the 90s – Pete Sampras – Ferreira performed admirably. He lost their Head-to-Head 6-7, but from 1995 to 1998, Ferreira triumphed in all four encounters (always 6-3 in the third sets), and what’s notably amusing, the first two wins (Lyon and Frankfurt) followed the same pattern as the subsequent two (Key Biscayne and Basel). Apart from Agassi & Michael Chang, Ferreira vanquished all players who epitomized the decade; as a veteran, he remained a formidable opponent for emerging talents (two highly dramatic victories over Lleyton Hewitt – in five meetings, also two against Roger Federer – in three meetings).
Ferreira was an offensive baseliner, yet playing at the net felt like his natural domain (he regularly participated in doubles competitions; the best junior in doubles of 1989, got the Olympic silver medal in 1992 alongside Piet Norval). Serve-and-volley tactics were second nature to him on grass, while on hard courts and indoors, he employed this style according to necessity. I believe his inability to defeat Agassi at least once may be attributed to this – he couldn’t rival Agassi from the baseline, but his serve-and-volley skills proved insufficient to overcome the great American with a plan B; he could only hope for a subpar day from his nemesis, which occurred in Atlanta… Who knows, perhaps if he had defeated Agassi then, he might have claimed a gold medal, offering him some measure of fulfillment.
I assume that two Mercedes Super 9 titles (Toronto ’96 and Stuttgart ’00) provide some compensation for not securing anything grander. If we compare Yevgeny Kafelnikov and his frequent doubles partner Ferreira (5-3 in their matches for the Afrikaner), both versatile players adept at winning matches in the 90s by attacking the net and playing from the baseline depending on the surface and the opponent, there’s actually no disparity between them in technical-mental skillset. Yet the Russian captured two majors and an Olympic gold medal. Suggesting that the Russian capitalized on clay-courts as a European would be an oversimplification, as Ferreira advanced to the Stuttgart-outdoor ’92 final when the event boasted its strongest field in history, and two Rome semifinals (1995 & 1996) when the Italian capital held the status of the second most prestigious clay-court event behind the French Open.
“I had on occasions felt that I lost to players who I should have beaten, and this is something I became aware of much later in my career. Often I would take the first set easily and then I became bored. I would lose interest and then sometimes didn’t recover sufficiently to win the match,” Ferreira reflected on his career. Trivia: Ferreira was the hottest player around the US Open 1994: he won four titles (three in consecutive starts) – first he captured Indianapolis – his lone title being an equivalent of ATP 500; the following year, he claimed back-to-back European events indoors in autumn, then reached the semifinal at Paris-Bercy. In hindsight, it seems the US Open ’94 was the Slam when Ferreira was in peak form to reach his sole major final; unfortunately for him, in the third round, he faced his toughest opponent, Agassi, and lost in straight sets – it was Ferreira’s only defeat within 25 tournament matches!
Ferreira returned to the circuit after fifteen years as Frances Tiafoe’s coach. They collaborated from 2020-23, with Ferreira guiding him to a Top 10 ranking. Recently, Ferreira has been mentoring a player aiming to break into the Top 20 – Alexei Popyrin.
Career record: 512–330 [ 332 events ]
Career titles: 15
Highest ranking: No. 6
Best GS results:
Australian Open (semifinal 1992 & 2003; quarterfinal 2002)
Wimbledon (quarterfinal 1994)
US Open (quarterfinal 1992)
Hopman Cup 2000 champion
Born: October 2, 1967 in Leibnitz (Styria)
Height: 1.81 m
Plays: Left-handed
Speaking percentage-wise, Muster’s finest Slam was Roland Garros (71% of wins), yet he played as many quarterfinals at the Australian and US Opens as in Paris, which is rather unexpected. It becomes less surprising upon closer examination of Muster’s decade in Paris, starting in 1989, when he had reached an Australian Open semifinal and advanced to the Key Biscayne final (Ivan Lendl proved an insurmountable barrier both times), becoming a recognisable force in tennis. That year, he was sidelined for six months by a car accident (struck by a drunk driver; side ligaments in his left knee torn).
In 1991, he fell in the first round to the decade’s finest player – Pete Sampras. The years 1992 and 1993? Twice thwarted by the reigning champion in Paris at the time – Jim Courier. In 1994 – another challenging draw, a gruelling second-round victory over Andre Agassi, followed by a stunning defeat to Patrick Rafter, who’d later rise to become the world’s best, lending that match a different perspective with hindsight. In 1996? A fourth-round exit when Muster was expected to defend his title, but he was ousted by an inspired Michael Stich. That year, the sunny conditions favored big servers, and Stich capitalized on the weather. In 1997? A shocking loss, then not in a hindsight – third-round defeat to Gustavo Kuerten, who went on to win the event and secure two more titles in Paris. Finally, in 1999, a first-round defeat marked the end of his career, falling to Nicolás Lapentti, who was playing the tennis of his life that year. Thus, we see only three advancements to the quarterfinals: first in 1990, when Muster fell in the semifinal to Andrés Gómez after defeating the Ecuadorian weeks earlier in the Rome semifinal; the title in 1995, when Muster, an overwhelming favorite, narrowly escaped in the last eight (against Albert Costa); and the quarterfinal in 1998 (defeated by Félix Mantilla – top clay-courter in the second half of the 90s), by which time the greatest Austrian of the Open Era was already vulnerable to upsets on clay, and few would have been shocked if he had exited in the first week.
“Muster reminds me a lot of Guillermo Vilas because he hits the ball so hard,” Gómez remarked after the upset loss in Rome ’90. This echoed my own impression watching Muster in the 90s; he played in a manner that suggested he modelled his game-style on the Argentine icon of the 70s. Exceptional athleticism, abundant topspin off both wings generated with the left hand, and a deft touch at the net (when Muster was developing, he played doubles frequently, like many Europeans) – these traits they shared. Muster was a relentless worker, a necessity to regain his former level after the Key Biscayne accident. He was famously photographed hitting tennis balls from a specially designed chair, his left leg in a cast. Six months later, he returned and was named the ATP’s Comeback Player of the Year. The immense effort he invested in reclaiming his peak form yielded rewards in 1995 – that year, Muster was utterly dominant on his cherished clay, securing twelve titles (three Masters 1K; Monte Carlo, Rome, Essen) in fourteen finals (paradoxically lost two in front of the home crowd: Kitzbühel and Wien), eleven on the dirt. It’s truly remarkable that en route to half of titles, he was one point from defeat (winning seven match-point-down matches in total that year)!
His dedication to amassing as many titles as possible paved the way for him to become world No. 1, which he achieved the following year, despite not playing with the same efficiency on clay, though he improved on faster surfaces, even managing to win some matches on his despised grass (his Wimbledon record? A dismal 0-4; from 1988 to ’91, he didn’t even bother travelling to England). “My No. 1 ranking in 1996 was built on my 12 tournament wins in 1995… I don’t know how many people can say that, measurably, they have been No. 1 at something, the best in the world. I loved that moment,” Muster reflected, explaining that he spent six weeks on the top at the time of his sensational defeats on hardcourts in the first quarter of 1996.
He aimed to prove to the era’s top players (Agassi and Sampras) that he could compete with them on all surfaces. Starting from Queens Club 1996, Muster quickened his first serve, began operating closer to the baseline, attacking the net more frequently (as he had in the late 80s), and 1997 marked his strongest year on hard courts (Australian Open semifinal, Dubai & Key Biscayne triumphs, final in Cincinnati). However, he lost his mastery on clay with this new implementation, winning just 9 matches (and losing 9) on that surface that year, a stark contrast to his stellar 65-2 (1995) and 46-3 (1996) records in the prior two years. When young Àlex Corretja stunned him 7-5, 6-1 in the Gstaad ’95 first round, it ended Muster’s 35-match winning streak (40 on clay).
While analyzing Muster’s matches, I’ve observed he was inclined to use lobs despite not executing them effectively; his return was mediocre, often merely blocking on the backhand side. This may explain his lackluster Head-to-Head records against serve-and-volleyers; he possessed only average reflexes and often, instead of attempting passing shots, resorted to defensive lobs. An embarrassing 0-10 H2H against Stefan Edberg is striking, but he also struggled against other similar players: 0-3 vs. Rafter, 2-3 vs. Stich. Moreover, he had even records against serve-and-volley big servers like Goran Ivanišević and Richard Krajicek, all of whom could defeat Muster even on clay.
Muster accomplished an infamous feat previously seen only in Björn Borg’s case, returning to the tour a decade after his final professional match. Across all levels, he competed in 26 matches during 2010-11, securing just two victories, one particularly gratifying (Todi, Challenger) – Muster overcame Leonardo Mayer, a player twenty years his junior, who would later rise to No. 21.
Career record: 625–273 [ 308 events ]
Career titles: 44
Highest ranking: No. 1
Best GS results:
Australian Open (semifinal 1989 & 97; quarterfinal 1994)
Roland Garros (champion 1995; semifinal 1990; quarterfinal 1998)
US Open (quarterfinal 1993-94 & 96)
Year-end rankings 1984-99: 311 – 98 – 47 – 56 – 16 – 21 – 7 – 35 – 18 – 9 – 16 – 3 – 5 – 9 – 25 – 193
Born: June 28, 1973 in Bilbao (País Vasco)
Height: 1.72 m
Plays: Right-handed
…if Jean Borotra (1898–1994), one of the famed French ‘Four Musketeers’ of the interwar period, stands as the greatest Basque player in history, Berasategui at least deserves the title of ‘best Basque player’ of the Open Era.
The 1994 it was his year to some degree (merely Pete Sampras won more titles that year; btw Sampras is the only top player born in the 70s, Berasategui never faced), he brought back something that had been seen in 1988 when Kent Carlsson advanced to the Top 10 while focusing only on clay. Both Berasategui and Carlsson played with enormous topspin forehands, but in Berasategui’s case, there was something unseen before: he hit the ball aggressively off both 
wings with the same grip!
Nothing strange about that for players of many previous generations, who grew up with wooden racquets and adjusted to the continental grip. But to play this way with modern graphite equipment – hitting every shot with the same side of the racquet – it was a bizarrely tough task. Berasategui somehow found a way; with such an extreme forehand grip, and exceptionally fast pace between points on serve, his topspin was really impressive. In the mid-90s, heavy topspin wasn’t as popular as it would become in the next decade. The Basque took full advantage of it on clay, moving smoothly with his wiggly legs to produce forehand winners all over the place.
First he gained some attention in the fall of 1993 by reaching four small ATP finals (lost three of them, always in deciders). He sent a serious message to the top players in Nice ’94, defeating Jim Courier 6-4, 6-2 in the final – Courier, at the time, had played three consecutive French Open finals. Berasategui’s great form in southern France carried over to Paris: at Roland Garros ’94, he was brilliant for two weeks. Before that event, he’d never even reached a Slam third round, yet suddenly he was in the final, eliminating only quality opponents: Wayne Ferreira, Cédric Pioline, Yevgeny Kafelnikov, Javier Frana (b. 1966, three titles), Goran Ivanišević, and Magnus Larsson. Even though none of his opponents (five of six potential Top 10 players, excluding Frana) were typical clay-courters, the fact that Berasategui didn’t drop a set was really astonishing.
In the final, he faced a Davis Cup mate and defending champion – Sergi Bruguera. In the first all-Spanish major final, witnessed by the Spanish king Juan Carlos I, the Basque was defeated in four sets by the Catalan, who neutralized Berasategui’s kick-serve and simply outlasted him. The Parisian fortnight boosted Berasategui’s confidence – afterwards, he won six titles in the second half of the season (seven including a Challenger), the biggest in Stuttgart. He went unbeaten on clay for 27 straight matches (22 excluding a Challenger title in Barcelona), earning a spot at the Masters. There, he became a whipping boy; unlike Carlsson in 1988, Berasategui switched from clay to carpet, where Michael Chang, Andre Agassi, and Bruguera destroyed him. The latter felt so confident that I saw him serve-and-volleying regularly for the first time.
Berasategui was never the same after 1994. Opponents figured him out – his tendency to serve almost exclusively to right-handed backhands on the deuce court (standing unusually close to the center mark – in the mid 90s only Gilbert Schaller had higher % of first serves in) and his habit of running around his backhand for those vicious topspin forehands. Covering ~75% of the baseline with the forehand is never easy – it requires endless running and power – it’s even harder for a player of his modest stature. Once his fitness dipped, his exposed backhand became prone to errors.
Strangely, his second-best major performance came on hard courts – the 1998 Australian Open, where he reached the quarterfinals beating Andrei Medvedev, Patrick Rafter, and Agassi as an underdog, in succession. Yet between June 2nd and August 31st that year, he lost nine straight main-level matches! Before that skid, he suffered two brutal collapses: leading 5:1 in the deciders against Pioline (Monte Carlo) and Félix Mantilla (Hamburg); he wasted eleven match points combined. Berasategui retired at age of 27, with a 14-9 record in ATP finals – all on clay (Carlsson, with a distinctively shorter career, finished at 9-8). He played one semifinal outside clay (Scottsdale ’96), Carlsson did not.
Career record: 278–199 [ 207 events ]
Career titles: 14
Highest ranking: No. 7
Best GS results:
Australian Open (quarterfinal 1998)
Roland Garros (runner-up 1994)
Born: March 23, 1972 in Alvesta (Kronoberg)
Height: 1.84 m
Plays: Right-handed (two-handed backhand)
Björkman was an heir to two different schools of Swedish tennis: one represented by a bunch of players inspired by Björn Borg, who used two-handed backhands and built their tactics around ground-strokes, and the other represented primarily by Stefan Edberg, the serve-and-volley style. Björkman tried to combine these two schools (similarly to Anders Järryd in the preceding decade), even though his volley skills were nowhere close to Edberg’s, and his forehand lacked the power of the three Magnuses (Larsson, Norman, and Gustafsson), who played more or less at the same time. He had to invent this hybrid supported by exceptional physical preparation because as a junior glued to the baseline he sunk in European mediocrity.
Björkman first showed signs of his potential at the US Open 1994, where he destroyed his idol Edberg in the third round before advancing to the quarterfinals. A few months later he reached the Key Biscayne ’95 semifinals after eliminating Mats Wilander, arguably the second-best Swede born in the 60s.
In those early years on ATP tour (mid-90s), he established himself as one of the best doubles players, partnering fellow Swede Jan Apell, who is three years older. The constant net attacks behind each serve in doubles and improved return skills (in the 90s only Paul Haarhuis could deal with service bombs as good as Björkman), he successfully transferred into his singles career by 1997. At 25, as a serve-and-volley player relying on his satisfactory first serve, attacking the net a lot with approach-shots as a receiver, he enjoyed a memorable season from start to finish (he moved from No. 69 to 4 that year): began it with a title in Auckland, finished with a Davis Cup triumph (leading Sweden in both singles and doubles alongside Nicklas Kulti), in the meantime he captured his biggest career title – Indianapolis (an equivalent of today’s ATP 500). He also reached his first Grand Slam semifinal at the US Open, highlighted by another stunning third-round victory over the reigning French Open champion.
The last quarter of that season was particularly impressive: including the US Open, Björkman won 25 of 32 matches, reaching at least the semifinals in four consecutive indoor events (Paris-Bercy marked his first and last Masters 1K final). The crowning achievement was his four-set victory over Michael Chang in the opening rubber of the Davis Cup final, setting the tone for Sweden’s 5-0 humiliation of the Americans.
The magic faded after the 1998 Australian Open (the only Slam where Björkman was considered a title favorite). He lost in the quarterfinals to veteran Petr Korda despite winning the first two sets, and his terrific form soon evaporated (between the Dubai semifinal and the grass-court ’98 season, he won only 4 matches losing 11). Still, for another ten years of his career, he remained a permanent Top 100 player, capable of occasional surprises at big tournaments (like his Wimbledon ’06 semifinal run at 34), leveraging his vast experience in best-of-five matches. Due to his longevity he played for the entire 90s (1-9 record against the decade’s best Pete Sampras) and almost the entire 00s (0-5 against the decade’s best Roger Federer). The only other player who experienced something similar is Fabrice Santoro, the Frenchman’s career stretched even longer, between 1989 and 2010.
In the 90s, Björkman was the only player – alongside Guy Forget – to compete in the “Masters” events in both singles (1997 semifinalist) and doubles (1994 champion). Off the court, he was known for his amusing player impersonations (John McEnroe, Emilio Sánchez, Edberg), which Eurosport often featured. Post-retirement, he teamed up with fellow Swedish pros Thomas Johansson and Simon Aspelin to create a club league for amateur players. In 2015 he was coaching Andy Murray, but didn’t help him to reach the top spot.
Career record: 414-362 [ 349 events ]
Career titles: 6
Highest ranking: No. 4
Best GS results:
Australian Open (quarterfinal 1998 and 02)
Wimbledon (semifinal 2006; quarterfinal 2003)
US Open (semifinal 1997; quarterfinal 1994 and 98)
Davis Cup champion 1994, 1997 & 1998 (twice in doubles, once in singles/doubles)
World Team Cup champion 1995
Born: August 30, 1982 in Omaha (Nebraska)
Height: 1.88 m
Plays: Right-handed (two-handed backhand)
He emerged as the heir to America’s “Golden Generation” with the force of a hurricane. Successful as a junior (Aussie Open and US Open 2000 titles – he defeated two years younger Mario Ančić in the final and semifinal respectively), soon after he cracked the ATP rankings in March ’00, Roddick was already dominating the Challenger circuit in America capturing three titles in his first six events at this level. Twelve months after gaining his first ATP points, he stunned two former world No. 1s (Marcelo Ríos and Pete Sampras) in straight sets, back-to-back, then came the first two ATP titles as he had played just 11 events at this level. The message was clear: a new star had arrived, a potential ruler of the first decade of the new century/new millennium.
Wild cards flowed his way as America’s brightest hope, but Roddick earned every opportunity. His game, built on a nuclear serve, howitzer forehand and radiating self-confidence, was deceptively simple yet brutally effective. One-dimensional? Perhaps. But when his back was against the wall, his self-belief conjured aces like magic – no player since has weaponized bold self-assurance so relentlessly.
His ascent was meteoric: just 58 tournaments to win titles in four basic conditions [clay, hard, indoors (hard), grass]. The summer of 2003, under Brad Gilbert’s guidance, became legendary: first Indianapolis, then back-to-back Masters 1K titles in Canada and Cincinnati – a feat unmatched until Rafael Nadal in 2013. Even more impressive that Roddick did it in the era when six not five wins were required to rise the trophy for the highest seeded players which means he won twelve matches within fourteen days! By September, he’d bulldozed through the US Open (27 wins in 28 matches), claiming his lone major and the world No. 1 ranking.
Then came an improved Roger Federer, more focused on defence than attacking. The 2003 Houston Masters semifinal was a harbinger: the Swiss dissected Roddick’s power with surgical precision. Over time, their rivalry became tennis’ cruellest paradox – Federer’s serve suddenly sharper against Roddick than anyone else, while Roddick’s own biggest weapon fizzled. Four major finals (Wimbledon 2004, 2005 and 2009 as well as US Open 2006), two Masters 1K finals (Toronto 2004, Cincinnati 2005), including a cascade of heartbreaks (Wimbledon 2009’s marathon fifth set stands as the bitterest) cemented the most lopsided H2H between No. 1s… a humiliating 3-21 from A-Rod’s perspective.
Roddick evolved being coached by former US players – smarter serves (variety over power), sharper volleys, a reliable backhand slice – but the outcome never changed. Jimmy Connors’ grit (2006-08) and Larry Stefanki’s tactics (2008-12) couldn’t crack the code of Federer’s supremacy. By his late 20s, Roddick as the charismatic showman had morphed into a frustrated battler, constantly complaining during matches, sweating heavily, out-muscled by Nadal, out-thought by Novak Đoković, and out-paced by Andy Murray. Roddick’s consolation of the disappointing second half of the 00s is the fact that he built a winning H2H record against the Serb (5:4), the future GOAT. Frequent losses to a few years younger players, dramatic defeats when a two-game advantage in the 5th sets was required, and the fact of slipping away the status of a Top 10 player after nine years, caused Roddick’s decision to retire on the day he turned 30 (unusually early among players born in the 80s).
His 2012 US Open farewell speech was pure Roddick: raw, self-deprecating, and deeply human. “It’s been a road, a lot of ups, a lot of downs, a lot of great moments. I’ve appreciated your support along the way. I know I certainly haven’t made it easy for you at times, but I really do appreciate it and love you guys with all my heart. Hopefully I’ll come back to this place someday and see all of you again.” At 30, he retired as the arguably second-greatest player born in the early 80s (behind Federer, ahead of Lleyton Hewitt and Marat Safin – Roddick has a balanced record against them both), so in a generation in which there was a fundamental change in tennis strategy from an offensive to a defensive approach; a testament to both his brilliance and the merciless era he inhabited. He represented the United States in the Davis Cup throughout his career. Although he has not won a single memorable match there, his contribution to the 2007 success was the biggest.
Career record: 612–213 [ 225 events ]
Career titles: 32
Highest ranking: No. 1
Best GS results:
Australian Open (semifinal 2003, 05, 07, 09; quarterfinal 2004, 10)
Wimbledon (runner-up 2004-05 & 09; semifinal 2003; quarterfinal 2007)
US Open (champion 2003; runner-up 2006; quarterfinal 2001-02, 04, 07-08, 11)
Davis Cup champion 2007
Year-end ranking 2000-2012: 158 – 14 – 10 – 1 – 2 – 3 – 6 – 6 – 8 – 7 – 8 – 14 – 39
Born: February 2, 1966 in Moscow (Moskva Oblast in Soviet Union)
Height: 1.87 m
Plays: Right-handed (two-handed backhand)
Андрей Эдуардович Чесноков… In the Soviet era, the name ‘Андрей’ was transcribed as ‘Andrei’ in line with rigid state conventions, but post-USSR, the more phonetic ‘Andrey’ became standard – a subtle marker of changing times. On my website, you’ll find both forms for him and Andrey Cherkasov – the second-best Russian player in the early 90s – reflecting this linguistic shift.
Chesnokov was a specialist of saving his best tennis for the biggest stages. This most accomplished Russian born in the 60s, contested fifteen main-level finals, with five (Monte Carlo and Rome ’90, Montreal ’91, Indian Wells ’92, Hamburg ’93) of his last seven occurring at Masters Series events (then called Mercedes Super 9). The explanation for this clutch performance might lie in financial motivation – having begun his career under the Soviet Union’s communist regime, he seemed galvanized by higher stakes.
Chesnokov’s 1980s statements often revealed the surreal pressures of his era. During the 1988 Antwerp exhibition final against John McEnroe, he sprained his ankle in the second set of a ‘best-of-five’ match. Despite the hopeless odds on fast carpet against a superior opponent, he soldiered on, limping through five more games. “I said I cannot play anymore,” Chesnokov admitted, “but He said, <You must!>” He refused to identify who pressured him: “It is my secret.” The year 1988 may be considered as his best, the most consistent. He won 73% of his matches (47-17 record with Antwerp); admittedly he captured just one title (Orlando), but played four more finals on three surfaces (including Antwerp, deprived of ranking points), and two Grand Slam quarterfinals.
The following year, he reached his career pinnacle at Roland Garros, ousting defending champion Mats Wilander in straight sets (he had done the same in 1986) en route to the semifinals. Even then, he shrouded his earnings in mystery: “I want to keep my secret about prize money. I will take some, maybe not $73,000. Maybe a little less. Maybe $72,000. Maybe I’ll buy a ticket to the United States before going back to Moscow,” he joked, referring to communistic collectivism.
In 2019, a former Soviet player (also born in the 1960s) told me at Lago di Garda that Chesnokov – despite neither he nor Alexander Volkov (second best Russian born in the 60s) cracking the USSR’s top five – had somehow slipped the Iron Curtain first, competing globally even before Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika loosened the regime’s grip.
In 1985, being completely unknown, Chesnokov made a trip to Paris, went through the qualifying rounds and stunned the Top 10 player, Eliot Teltscher in the second round before losing to Heintz Günthardt in the third round after one of the longest matches of the 80s at Roland Garros (it lasted 4 hours 40 minutes). “Before this tournament I thought they (the international touring pros) were so strong. But now I realize they can be beaten.” said Chesnokov, a physical education student at a special Moscow sports institute, ranked 307th in the world on the ATP computer.
Trivia: Before Isner-Mahut’s legendary marathon, Chesnokov had already etched his name into tennis history with one of the longest sets in the Open Era. In a freakish coincidence, I met him just as Isner and Mahut – near their court – were beginning the third set. When I asked him about the duration of his 1987 Davis Cup epic 1st set against Michiel Schapers (Chesnokov won 24-22, 1-6, 6-2, 6-2), he replied without hesitation: “Two hours, fifty-seven minutes.” Likely the longest non-deciding set ever played.
Chesnokov’s Davis Cup heroics didn’t stop there. In the 1995 Moscow semifinal, he saved nine match points in a single game on return (!) to topple Michael Stich in a decisive rubber. Later that year, in the Moscow final, he pushed Pete Sampras to the brink on the same, exceptionally slow clay – a surface that left the world No. 1 so exhausted after match point that he collapsed, unable to walk. Had Chesnokov saved one more match point, who knows? Another miracle might have been born. From a technical standpoint, Chesnokov’s backhand was the weapon he could most rely on, the type of shot that gives you the impression he can’t miss if the ball is close to the left side of his body at the torso level.
Career record: 344–259 [ 244 events ]
Career titles: 7
Highest ranking: No. 9
Best GS results:
Australian Open (quarterfinal 1988)
Roland Garros (semifinal 1989; quarterfinal 1986, 1988)
Born: March 4, 1974 in Bratislava (Západoslovenský kraj in Czechoslovakia)
Height: 1.87 m
Plays: Right-handed (two-handed backhand)
As a junior, he represented Czechoslovakia and was a member of the Galea Cup team in 1991-92. In those years he played his first ATP matches, in Praha. A protégé of Miloslav Mečíř, the gold medalist from Seoul ’88, he followed in the footsteps of his mentor, the “Big Cat,” with his own intelligent style of play – a style perfectly aligned with the technological advancements of the 1990s, which emphasized power, contrasting with the finesse and improvisation that defined Mečíř’s game a decade before. Nicknamed the “Little Cat,” Kučera became, alongside Dominik Hrbatý, the co-leader of the Slovakian squad for over a decade in various team competitions after Czechoslovakia’s dissolution in 1993 (he’s one of a few players born in the 70s to participate three times at the Olympics).
Kučera, like ten years older Mečíř, often seemed to play tennis in slow motion, yet with surgical precision. Despite not being one of the fastest 
players on tour, he was extremely difficult to outmaneuver from the baseline, as his anticipation allowed him to be well-prepared for his flat, well-placed strokes off both wings. Much like his tutor Mečíř, Kučera had no trouble adapting to faster surfaces (grass, carpet), frequently employing serve-and-volley tactics behind his first serve.
Early in his professional career, he was known for having a negative aces-to-double-faults ratio. This changed after he began working with Mečíř in 1997. Before that collaboration, Kučera had already claimed his first title, on grass at Rosmalen ’95, although never having won a professional match on the surface before. A year later, he pushed three-time defending champion Pete Sampras to four sets at Wimbledon, signaling his potential (just weeks after another tight four-set battle at Roland Garros against Jim Courier, during which he sprained his right ankle – a lingering injury that plagued him for the rest of his career, often forcing him to play with ankle protection).
The pinnacle of Kučera’s career came in 1998. In January, he was the hottest player on tour: first, he triumphed at the Hopman Cup (partnering with Karina Habšudová), then won the title in Sydney, and reached his only Grand Slam semifinal at the Australian Open, stunning (6-4, 6-2, 6-7, 6-3) Sampras in the quarterfinals. In the first two sets, he was passing the world’s best player with an ease that was unparalleled on hard courts in the mid-’90s. Later that year, at the US Open, he defeated the second-best player of the decade, Andre Agassi, in the fourth round (6-3, 6-3, 6-7, 1-6, 6-3). With those two victories, Kučera briefly stood atop the tennis world in a metaphorical sense. These wins gave him a legitimate belief that he could capture at least one big title. However, his best opportunity slipped away at the 1998 Grand Slam Cup in München. He lost a semifinal match he should have won against Agassi, while Marcelo Ríos awaited in the final. At the time, Kucera led their Head-to-Head 3:2, making it a golden opportunity. His most significant title ultimately came in Basel ’99, where he survived one of the tightest ATP finals of the decade, defeating his most frequent (6-5 H2H including a dead DC rubber) opponent Tim Henman 6-4, 7-6, 4-6, 4-6, 7-6 in a four-hour battle – despite winning three points fewer than the Brit.
By 2005, at the age of 31, he played his farewell season, actually only the second half of it. His previous year had been the least successful since 1993, and for years he had struggled with wrist and arm injuries. That final season was largely unremarkable, but in an unexpected twist, he nearly concluded his career in a dream scenario. Slovakia reached the Davis Cup final, primarily thanks to Hrbatý and Karol Beck (b. 1982). However, Beck was suspended for using illegal substances, forcing Kučera into the opening rubber against Ivan Ljubičić, which he lost quickly. On the deciding Sunday, with a chance to play his final match in a career-defining moment, his former coach Mečíř instead appointed Michal Mertiňák – a player with no experience at the highest level, who lost in straight sets to Mario Ančić. It marked the third time that a widely recognized player, in the twilight of his career, was not ready to compete in a crucial rubber that could have secured a Davis Cup title for his country (following Stefan Edberg 1996 and Patrick Rafter 2001).
Career record: 293–244 [ 237 events ]
Career titles: 6
Highest ranking: No. 6
Best GS results:
Australian Open (semifinal 1998; quarterfinal 1999)
US Open (quarterfinal 1998)
Hopman Cup champion 1998
World Team Cup champion 2000
Born: March 30, 1984 in Split (Dalmacija in Yugoslavia)
Height: 1.95 m
Plays: Right-handed (two-handed backhand)
It’s a pity that Ančić retired prematurely (due to mononucleosis, which struck him at just 23), but I don’t consider him an underachiever. Given his potential, I believe he had a short, but nice career and etched his name into the history books by clinching the decisive fifth rubber in the Davis Cup 2005 final (against an obscure Slovak Michal Mertiňák, born in 1979 – it’d be hard for Ančić to imagine a weaker opponent for 
the most important match of his career). This is a feat most tennis players could only dream of. “I played very aggressively, I felt everything was under my control,” Ančić said after the biggest victory of his life. “It’s an unforgettable match and an unforgettable day. This has been a spectacular year for me.” While Ivan Ljubičić contributed considerably more to Croatia’s success that year, Ančić had the honor of delivering the final blow. It’s worth mentioning that Ančić, alongside Ljubičić, won all four Davis Cup doubles rubbers in 2005 (including a stunning victory over the Bryan brothers). A year earlier, the pair had already claimed the bronze medal at the 2004 Athens Olympics after an epic third-place match.
Personally, Ančić was a slight disappointment for me. He began his career around the time Richard Krajicek (my favorite player for over a decade) retired, and I hoped Ančić would, in some ways, fill the Dutchman’s shoes. There were similarities: roughly the same height and weight, the same racquet (Yonex), similar offensive attitude, and even the same coach – Australian Rohan Goetzke. However, before their split in 2005, it became clear that Ančić wasn’t cut out to be a Grand Slam or even Masters Series champion (ultimately just one semifinal at this level).
Ančić tried to adopt a serve-and-volley style on faster surfaces, but his serve wasn’t as dominant as Krajicek’s, especially during the era of slowing court speeds in the early/mid 2000s. He also lacked the effortless ground-strokes of his mentor, Goran Ivanišević, and didn’t possess Ivanišević’s audacity to play risky shots in crucial moments which reflected in a very poor record of deciding tie-breaks. While he was dubbed “Baby Goran,” the nickname only held true in terms of being Ivanišević’s protégé. “Super Mario” – referring to the main player character of a Nintendo game – was a slight exaggeration too. None of his shots could be called “super”, everything was just very solid.
Despite winning barely three titles (all equivalents of “ATP 250”), Ančić boasts a quite impressive Grand Slam résumé: a Wimbledon semifinal (2004) and three quarterfinals (Wimbledon 2006 and 2008, Roland Garros 2006). Notably, he lost all those three quarterfinals to Roger Federer, the same player he famously defeated in his Grand Slam debut at Wimbledon 2002. Another peculiar aspect of Ančić’s career is that he lost three ATP finals (Milan ’04, Scottsdale ’05, and Tokyo ’05) to veterans who claimed their only titles by defeating him.
One unique trait of Ančić’s game was his tendency to make fist-pumps after losing points – a form of perverse positive thinking, as if to say: <<You lost the point, but don’t worry. You’re playing aggressively and the right way. Keep it up.>> The penultimate match of Ančić’s professional career turned into a disaster of unprecedented proportions. In the first round of the Ostrava ’10 Challenger, he lost to Ivo Minář 6-4, 4-6, 5-7 despite leading 3:1 in the 2nd, and 5:0* (40/0) in the deciding set!
Career record: 208–135 [ 128 events ]
Career titles: 3
Highest ranking: No. 7
Best GS results:
Roland Garros (quarterfinal 2006)
Wimbledon (semifinal 2004; quarterfinal 2006 & 08)
Davis Cup champion 2005
World Team Cup champion 2006
Born: January 23, 1968 in Praha
Height: 1.91 m
Plays: Left-handed
“I was waiting for this a long, long time. What we went through was unbelievable. I didn’t believe it could happen. It’s a dream come true,” said Korda after winning the Australian Open ’98 at the age of 30, echoing Andrés Gómez’s story (French Open ’90) of claiming a maiden major title after nearly a decade of competing at the highest level. Unlike Gómez, who had failed to reach even a semifinal in 26 major attempts before his French Open triumph, Korda had already played one final in his 33 previous Grand Slam appearances. Born in Prague (a rarity among top Czech players), Korda began his tennis journey under the guidance of his father: “Because of him, I’ve got a golden touch!” From an early age, he idolized Ivan Lendl, even serving as a ball boy during one of Lendl’s matches in Prague. Defeating his childhood hero, the best Czechoslovak in history (5-7, 6-1, 6-4 in Stockholm ’91) became a 
career highlight in his early years on the tour. Korda ultimately won four of their five meetings. The summer of ’91 on American hardcourts marked a breakthrough period for Korda, who was representing Czechoslovakia at the time. The lanky Czech reached three ATP finals within a month. After falling short in the finals in Washington and Montreal, he clinched his first trophy in New Haven. During this remarkable run, he surged from No. 69 to No. 15 in the rankings.
As a child & teenager, Korda was exceptionally thin. Over the years, he gained some weight, but even as a professional, he never quite fit the typical athlete’s physique. His career was plagued by unorthodox injuries: groin issues, hernias, para-nasal sinus problems, and other minor ailments. At times, he was devastated, even considering premature retirement. “I was in constant pain, wondering if I’d ever live normally,” he admitted. After a series of operations and as he approached his 30th birthday, Korda finally stabilized his physical condition. Between July ’97 and January ’98, he soared from No. 27 to No. 2 in the world rankings, notching a sensational five-set victory over Pete Sampras at the US Open, and capturing the Stuttgart title above all. For a few weeks in February and March of 1998, he was within striking distance of the top spot, but always fell short by two or three matches.
Korda’s enormous potential is defined by his extraordinary triumph in Germany under challenging circumstances. At the 1993 Compaq Grand Slam in München, he staged a remarkable comeback against the reigning French Open champion Sergi Bruguera in the quarterfinals (4-6, 6-0, 6-4), rallying from 4:2* down in the third set. This was nothing compared to what was to come: in the semifinal, he outlasted world’s best Sampras in a spectacular 4.5-hour battle saving match points in two successive sets… exhausted and barely standing in the fourth and fifth sets, Korda defied expectations by not only reaching the final but also defeating Michael Stich, the second-best player of the season, in another five-set thriller. Astonishingly, Korda survived both matches despite winning fewer points than his opponents (10 fewer against Sampras and 13 fewer against Stich). These victories over Sampras and Stich are unprecedented, no one before or after has won the semi-final and final in so long five-set duels (given the number of games in the deciding sets). If we add that Korda did it against the two best players in the world, on a surface where they were very efficient, it’s really mind-blowing.
Unfortunately, Korda’s career ended in controversy. At the end of 1998, the ITF announced that he had tested positive for the banned steroid nandrolone during Wimbledon ’98. While he was not banned from the sport, Korda was stripped of his ranking points and prize money ($94,500) from Wimbledon. The decision sparked outrage among his peers. Richard Krajicek questioned: “If he used nandrolone, why hasn’t he been disqualified? If he was found not guilty, why did they take away his money?” Jonas Björkman, who lost to Korda the Aussie Open quarterfinal being in the form of his life, added: “Before Wimbledon, he was playing the best tennis of his life. Afterward, he was much worse. If someone takes illegal substances, they should be banned for a few years.”
Shortly after the nandrolone scandal, Korda was banned from competing in his native Czechia for two years. Despite the criticism, Korda returned to the Australian Open ’99 to defend his title but suffered humiliating moments; he defeated Galo Blanco in five sets despite the adversary crowd, and the Spaniard refused to shake his hand. Because of his beautiful, classical ground-strokes and amusing behaviour (a tendency to juggle the ball, celebrating victories with scissor kicks) he was a rather beloved figure all over the world, but in 1999 he became the public enemy wherever he went. His ranking plummeted, and within a year of nearly reaching the pinnacle of tennis, he found himself outside the Top 100. A six-match losing streak, including a defeat to Rodolphe Cadart (who had only three main-level wins), marked the beginning of the end. After losing to Danny Sapsford in the Wimbledon ’99 qualifiers, Korda announced his sudden retirement.
A year and a half later, when the Czech ban expired, Korda made a brief comeback at a Prague Challenger event. He lost 6-4, 3-6, 6-7 to little-known Martin Hromec of Slovakia, who had never played a main-level match. The almost 33-year-old Korda described the tournament as a gift to his father, who had turned 60 that week.
Korda was primarily an offensive baseliner, characterized by unparalleled ease in spreading the ball to all corners of the court with very low net clearance, but on grass, he adopted the traditional serve-and-volley tactics, which he occasionally used as a surprise element on other surfaces making himself an all-round player.
His son Sebastian Korda (born in 2000) emerged as a promising talent a few years ago. After starting with a 0:3 main-level record and a ranking outside the Top 200, Sebastian reached the fourth round of Roland Garros ’20, where he was outclassed by Rafael Nadal. Standing taller than Petr, being right-hander, and wielding a two-handed backhand, but also prone to play flat, Sebastian represents the next generation of the Korda sport legacy, under the US flag. It’s highly unlikely that he’ll achieve better results than his father, the next few seasons will reveal his true capabilities.
Career record: 410-248 [ 246 events ]
Career titles: 10
Highest ranking: 2
Best GS results:
Australian Open (champion 1998; quarterfinal 1993)
Roland Garros (runner-up 1992)
Wimbledon (quarterfinal 1998)
US Open (quarterfinal 1995 & 97)
Grand Slam Cup champion 1993
