I get cramps
Semi-Pro
Horacio de la Peña- I often watched you on the circuit. And I would ask myself: "But how does this guy get these results?" Your ball had pace, but it didn't stand out. But you fought like a dog. You were winning 8-6 in the third, on clay and using the technology of yesteryear. You'd shower, go out, play the doubles, and win that, too. The next day, you'd come back and be in the same state of mind. How did you do it?
ESV - Fighting like that for so many days during the year was hard for me. I don't know if you were there that year [1987) in Kitzbühel when I beat Mecir in the tournament final in five sets. ESV won in four sets. There was rain on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. We started the tournament on a Friday morning. I played two singles matches and one doubles match. I played two singles and doubles on Saturday morning. Sunday morning, I'm in the singles and doubles finals. I played Mecir in five sets [they played four] and then the doubles final. We won. I played nine matches in three days. By the end, I realised I had to go to the hospital for a check-up.
When we played, we became accustomed to giving 100% and then regrouping to recover and perform at our best. Today, "refilling the tank to perform again" is the hardest thing for professionals. It seemed normal to us when many of us were playing singles and doubles.
HDLP: When I was studying you, I saw you played 27 singles finals and won 15 of them and 79 doubles finals. It's impressive what you did!
ESV- [laughs] It's not much besides Rafa or Vilas and people like that. However, when you put it all together to compete, you realise your serve is good, your second serve is very good, but it's not special either. Your forehand is good but not unique, and your backhand and volley are not exceptional either. At the end of some matches, I left the court happy, considering the weapons I had.
HDLP - I know you've thoroughly studied the game. So you're not running away from here without giving me answers—everything you didn't want to tell me when we were competing.
ESV - [laughs] In these times of COVID, I will happily share whatever you want with you. Besides, in conventional interviews, you don't have time, nor do they ask you anything that interests you because the person interviewing you has no interest in understanding the game or love for it. So squeeze me a little! [laughs].
To be a professional player, what do you need most?
ESV - First, the aspiring pro player today must learn to deal with frustration. We are experiencing a significant issue today. Currently, with social media, including Instagram... It's all beautiful. Everything is beautiful! The present player has minimal capacity to accept the error. In today's society, mistakes are frowned upon. The ability to learn from and move past mistakes in the next game is a gift. That gift predisposes you to play in a much better condition at the next point or game.
Being able to allow yourself to make "embarrassing" mistakes. "Look, the player is a top ten and shot the ball to the centre strap anchor!" Then, the player walks around the court, spends a lot of time with the towel, laughs, and gets ready to serve. And what follows is an ace of his own.
Let's say you take a guy with good hitting quality in front of his body. After impacting the ball, he always makes up space to have time to recover the centre. Creating time for the next shot is critical, especially for those who don't have great shots... I remember when I was commentating matches, and Moyà, on his forehand side, could take a coffee with it fully ready and still hit the ball in front of himself and break your head. However, on his backhand side? He had no time! Moyà didn't have a poor backhand, but he didn't have the time on his backhand side to create a play. Moyà would have been a deadly player had he had the same time in both wings. He could have opened a lot more courts.
If you add to these two things the ability to suffer and the hunger not to give up in the face of anything, you have a powerful combination. You will continue to improve your game throughout your career. When they are young, they may have many gifts, but they are in a moment of progression that is not linear. They are going up a ladder. If the player loses hunger at any point, a problem will arise.
I'm not sure if the same thing happened to you as it did to me. When I was young, I didn't mind losing games. But there came a time when the defeats marked me. Because I already had a more comfortable place. I lost that ability to react to improve that little thing you lack. When you stop wanting to be the best, your decline begins. Who can avoid it? These "privileged ones," Well, Sampras, Agassi,... They can return after a few crises in which they don't get a ball inside the court. They can face their fears and bring something new to their game. With the young kids you work with, you can identify all this. You know which of the kids is going to get it. You explain a concept or complex technical aspect, and you look into their eyes, seeing that they don't understand you, but you persist because they keep trying. Suddenly, they are doing it.
Two words are noxious in the youth sports environment for me: potential. This kid has potential, but what does potential mean? Nothing! The kid who is said to have potential has done nothing!
You can have the potential to become somebody. I also want to be an Einstein or a critical scientist. But can I put myself in a laboratory for thirty years to be a sort of Einstein? No! "But I'm talented; I'm super-talented! I know the perfect formulas, the mixtures of products!" But can you spend years mixing grams and milligrams...? No! However, I've potential because I've won two matches. I always ask them: What have you won to feel that way? And they can answer: I've won the national, regional, or international championship, or I need to know what. I almost don't remember who won the different masters last year. How can I remember who won the under-eleven tournament in Tejeringo el Chico in the Alps? Of course, that match in the Alps is crucial for that kid. It becomes transcendent for him because: "I want to win in the Alps, in Switzerland, in the Spanish championship..." Then we create these characters and these situations that end up hurting a lot because there are excuses everywhere: the light was bothering me, and the wind and a UFO passing by...
Do you remember Muster? After beating Becker in the quarterfinals in Monte Carlo, I lost to Muster in the semifinals. [His memory fails him; he beat Boris in the quarterfinals of Monte Carlo in 1990, but the one he lost to in the semis was Chesnokov. He never played Muster in Monte Carlo.] The first semi of the tournament ended, and only four of us were there.
Our match lasted almost three and a half hours. I have three stained shirts, all of which are covered in dirt, sweat, and filth. I'm alone in the locker room, and I've been sitting there for fifteen minutes, defeated. Suddenly, I hear a banging noise all over the locker room. So I'm walking around in a daze to see what's happening. And suddenly, I find Muster on the floor with a medicine ball that I don't know how many kilos it weighs. He's doing sit-ups with it. And I asked him, "What are you doing? And he said, "My exercise plan is three hundred crunches." I said, "But we just played for three and a half hours!" he said, "Yes, but I have to do them." Hey, I would go to serve when I finished a match; we used to do crazy things.
So, when different players told me, "Muster is so and so, or something else, or he behaves in this or that strange way, or Muster, I don't know what, I used to tell them: "No, Muster is a gifted player, he is a guy from another planet."
HDLP: Why did you achieve so much in tennis with so little?
ESV - I had an essential progression as a player.
I told my coach, Pato Alvarez, "I can't be just a clay court player who plays a few months a year. " The result was disastrous at the beginning, and I was already among the 30 best players in the world. I would spend five or six months in the U.S. and not win a single set. I remember being in Houston, having six or seven weeks in the U.S., and losing all the time.
They would tell me if I had vinegar for breakfast; my anger was continuous.
One day, when I was in an ATP indoor tournament in Houston, I threw a ball out of bounds on the singles court. Enraged, I threw my racquet, and it traced a boomerang trajectory upwards and exploded a lamp in the stadium. Pato Alvarez left and, five minutes later, showed up with a police officer. "Sir. Emilio Sanchez?" I raised my hands and said, "It's me. " "You're under arrest. " He put me in handcuffs, and I said in anguish, "But I just threw a racquet. No! I won't do it anymore! The police officer grabbed me, took me to the police car, and I cried: "No! And I heard: "They have filed a complaint against you, and we have to take you to the police station.
The police car took me away. I was in total shock. No, it was more than shock. The car turned around and went back to the stadium. I never threw a racket again.
I went to Wimbledon and lost in five sets to someone I don't know, possibly a court attendant who stopped by to buy peanuts and played against me [1986, British player Stephen Botfield, ranked 458].
I could play the games with my groundstrokes but couldn't hurt my opponents. I couldn't have the initiative with my serve, and I had a lot of difficulties in the game. But I took advantage of my serve on fast courts and clay.
ESV - Fighting like that for so many days during the year was hard for me. I don't know if you were there that year [1987) in Kitzbühel when I beat Mecir in the tournament final in five sets. ESV won in four sets. There was rain on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. We started the tournament on a Friday morning. I played two singles matches and one doubles match. I played two singles and doubles on Saturday morning. Sunday morning, I'm in the singles and doubles finals. I played Mecir in five sets [they played four] and then the doubles final. We won. I played nine matches in three days. By the end, I realised I had to go to the hospital for a check-up.
When we played, we became accustomed to giving 100% and then regrouping to recover and perform at our best. Today, "refilling the tank to perform again" is the hardest thing for professionals. It seemed normal to us when many of us were playing singles and doubles.
HDLP: When I was studying you, I saw you played 27 singles finals and won 15 of them and 79 doubles finals. It's impressive what you did!
ESV- [laughs] It's not much besides Rafa or Vilas and people like that. However, when you put it all together to compete, you realise your serve is good, your second serve is very good, but it's not special either. Your forehand is good but not unique, and your backhand and volley are not exceptional either. At the end of some matches, I left the court happy, considering the weapons I had.
HDLP - I know you've thoroughly studied the game. So you're not running away from here without giving me answers—everything you didn't want to tell me when we were competing.
ESV - [laughs] In these times of COVID, I will happily share whatever you want with you. Besides, in conventional interviews, you don't have time, nor do they ask you anything that interests you because the person interviewing you has no interest in understanding the game or love for it. So squeeze me a little! [laughs].
To be a professional player, what do you need most?
ESV - First, the aspiring pro player today must learn to deal with frustration. We are experiencing a significant issue today. Currently, with social media, including Instagram... It's all beautiful. Everything is beautiful! The present player has minimal capacity to accept the error. In today's society, mistakes are frowned upon. The ability to learn from and move past mistakes in the next game is a gift. That gift predisposes you to play in a much better condition at the next point or game.
Being able to allow yourself to make "embarrassing" mistakes. "Look, the player is a top ten and shot the ball to the centre strap anchor!" Then, the player walks around the court, spends a lot of time with the towel, laughs, and gets ready to serve. And what follows is an ace of his own.
Let's say you take a guy with good hitting quality in front of his body. After impacting the ball, he always makes up space to have time to recover the centre. Creating time for the next shot is critical, especially for those who don't have great shots... I remember when I was commentating matches, and Moyà, on his forehand side, could take a coffee with it fully ready and still hit the ball in front of himself and break your head. However, on his backhand side? He had no time! Moyà didn't have a poor backhand, but he didn't have the time on his backhand side to create a play. Moyà would have been a deadly player had he had the same time in both wings. He could have opened a lot more courts.
If you add to these two things the ability to suffer and the hunger not to give up in the face of anything, you have a powerful combination. You will continue to improve your game throughout your career. When they are young, they may have many gifts, but they are in a moment of progression that is not linear. They are going up a ladder. If the player loses hunger at any point, a problem will arise.
I'm not sure if the same thing happened to you as it did to me. When I was young, I didn't mind losing games. But there came a time when the defeats marked me. Because I already had a more comfortable place. I lost that ability to react to improve that little thing you lack. When you stop wanting to be the best, your decline begins. Who can avoid it? These "privileged ones," Well, Sampras, Agassi,... They can return after a few crises in which they don't get a ball inside the court. They can face their fears and bring something new to their game. With the young kids you work with, you can identify all this. You know which of the kids is going to get it. You explain a concept or complex technical aspect, and you look into their eyes, seeing that they don't understand you, but you persist because they keep trying. Suddenly, they are doing it.
Two words are noxious in the youth sports environment for me: potential. This kid has potential, but what does potential mean? Nothing! The kid who is said to have potential has done nothing!
You can have the potential to become somebody. I also want to be an Einstein or a critical scientist. But can I put myself in a laboratory for thirty years to be a sort of Einstein? No! "But I'm talented; I'm super-talented! I know the perfect formulas, the mixtures of products!" But can you spend years mixing grams and milligrams...? No! However, I've potential because I've won two matches. I always ask them: What have you won to feel that way? And they can answer: I've won the national, regional, or international championship, or I need to know what. I almost don't remember who won the different masters last year. How can I remember who won the under-eleven tournament in Tejeringo el Chico in the Alps? Of course, that match in the Alps is crucial for that kid. It becomes transcendent for him because: "I want to win in the Alps, in Switzerland, in the Spanish championship..." Then we create these characters and these situations that end up hurting a lot because there are excuses everywhere: the light was bothering me, and the wind and a UFO passing by...
Do you remember Muster? After beating Becker in the quarterfinals in Monte Carlo, I lost to Muster in the semifinals. [His memory fails him; he beat Boris in the quarterfinals of Monte Carlo in 1990, but the one he lost to in the semis was Chesnokov. He never played Muster in Monte Carlo.] The first semi of the tournament ended, and only four of us were there.
Our match lasted almost three and a half hours. I have three stained shirts, all of which are covered in dirt, sweat, and filth. I'm alone in the locker room, and I've been sitting there for fifteen minutes, defeated. Suddenly, I hear a banging noise all over the locker room. So I'm walking around in a daze to see what's happening. And suddenly, I find Muster on the floor with a medicine ball that I don't know how many kilos it weighs. He's doing sit-ups with it. And I asked him, "What are you doing? And he said, "My exercise plan is three hundred crunches." I said, "But we just played for three and a half hours!" he said, "Yes, but I have to do them." Hey, I would go to serve when I finished a match; we used to do crazy things.
So, when different players told me, "Muster is so and so, or something else, or he behaves in this or that strange way, or Muster, I don't know what, I used to tell them: "No, Muster is a gifted player, he is a guy from another planet."
HDLP: Why did you achieve so much in tennis with so little?
ESV - I had an essential progression as a player.
I told my coach, Pato Alvarez, "I can't be just a clay court player who plays a few months a year. " The result was disastrous at the beginning, and I was already among the 30 best players in the world. I would spend five or six months in the U.S. and not win a single set. I remember being in Houston, having six or seven weeks in the U.S., and losing all the time.
They would tell me if I had vinegar for breakfast; my anger was continuous.
One day, when I was in an ATP indoor tournament in Houston, I threw a ball out of bounds on the singles court. Enraged, I threw my racquet, and it traced a boomerang trajectory upwards and exploded a lamp in the stadium. Pato Alvarez left and, five minutes later, showed up with a police officer. "Sir. Emilio Sanchez?" I raised my hands and said, "It's me. " "You're under arrest. " He put me in handcuffs, and I said in anguish, "But I just threw a racquet. No! I won't do it anymore! The police officer grabbed me, took me to the police car, and I cried: "No! And I heard: "They have filed a complaint against you, and we have to take you to the police station.
The police car took me away. I was in total shock. No, it was more than shock. The car turned around and went back to the stadium. I never threw a racket again.
I went to Wimbledon and lost in five sets to someone I don't know, possibly a court attendant who stopped by to buy peanuts and played against me [1986, British player Stephen Botfield, ranked 458].
I could play the games with my groundstrokes but couldn't hurt my opponents. I couldn't have the initiative with my serve, and I had a lot of difficulties in the game. But I took advantage of my serve on fast courts and clay.
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