I did an interview Tuesday promoting Steve Bellamy's Shotgun 21 tournament, beginning on Aug. 3 at the Palisades Tennis Center in Brentwood, Calif. An AP wire writer called me to ask why I was supporting such an event. Steve Bellamy is a visionary. He started the Tennis Channel and now is working on the Ski Channel. I believe in his concepts.
I remember when I lived in Bradenton, Fla., working out of IMG Academies and Nick Bollettieri -- another visionary -- used to stage King of the Hill hits on Friday afternoon. He mixed the girls with the guys in a round-robin format. Tommy Haas, Xavier Malisse, Max Mirnyi, Paul-Henri Mathieu all played. I got to the semis a couple of times. There were a lot of laughs, a few bets -- and Nick knew how to loosen up a tough practice week. I learned you could play on the ground against the guys -- or at least have a chance.
That's what Steve is doing. He is mixing up the pros -- girls and guys in a draw -- underhand serves only.
A slight injury is enough to keep me off the tennis court for the next week. I strained my left hip flexor during Stanford in the second round at 3-3 in the first set. I tried a tape job with the trainer but it didn't work. I stayed out there and lost the match. I had to retire with the same injury in Los Angeles on Saturday. I probably shouldn't have tried to play but I've worked hard to get into a ranking position to play in qualifiers at WTA events -- and build points for main draws. It's tough not to try. The tournaments have slowed down the courts, and there is a lot of sand on the surface. This makes for sticky movement, and when you are going for a ball, the wrong kind of torque can pull or strain a muscle. I'm receiving treatment and hoping for a recovery in time for Montreal on Saturday.
I thought it was amusing when Andy Murray complained in his new autobiography that being around former coach Brad Gilbert was like Groundhog Day -- every day was the same. That's what life is like for a tennis player. You eat, practice, exercise and sleep -- it's always the same. Tennis is about how you balance the relationships around you. God gave us relationships because he wants us to be happy. This might be a stretch from Brad Gilbert and Groundhog Day, but I, for one, believe in relationships, friendships, a significant other and, when I'm playing, maintaining the same plane with everyone around me. I think there is comfort in Groundhog Day when you have a big match coming up. Romance, girlfriends, boyfriends, breakups and makeups disrupt Groundhog Day and can make a tennis player's life stormy, to say the least.
Chris Evert and Jimmy Connors could tell you a story or two about romance during their tennis careers and how it affected matches -- more it seems for a young Chrissie, who was head over heels in love with Jimmy. Maybe it's being female and wanting the knight in shining armor concept in your life, but it seems like girls fall harder. You are always wondering what the guy is thinking. Last Sunday, actor Seth Rogan had a take on what guys think about in a Funny Faces photo essay in the New York Times Magazine:
"The root of all men's desire is to have sex," Rogan said. "When you brush your teeth, it's to have sex. When you eat, it's, well, 'I gotta have energy to have sex.' When you get dressed, you think, 'Oh, maybe if I wear these jeans I'll be more likely to have sex.'"
My best friend Kristen, the girl who hung out at the Surf Lodge in Montauk, N.Y., on July 4, tells me that sex in the city is still reminiscent of Carrie Bradshaw and the girl/boy angst that goes along with dating in a big city -- all wrapped up in the nightlife at the hottest clubs and restaurants. At what point in a new relationship is there an equal footing? Or does someone need to take the lead?
Tennis players have to negotiate relationships globally -- in a long-distance manner and usually, at least on the men's side, it ends up in marriage and kids. Grand Slam nurseries are filled up. On the women's side, you just notice girls retire and don't come back or they learn to have fun while on tour. I still remember my doubles match a few years ago at the U.S. Open on an outside court and my partner was Jennifer Capriati -- a girl whose style and flair has never been matched. I didn't see her until she came to the court -- late for our first round. Jennifer plopped down next to me in a chair and looked almost wistful.
"This might be a tough one," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I was out with Leo last night."
"Leo?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Leonardo DiCaprio."
Leonardo DiCaprio! Not only does his name roll off your tongue, but every girl in the world still wanted to be blowing in the wind on Leo's ship. I had new respect and admiration for my fellow American. We lost the match, but with a smile. One thing I've learned out here is that relationships complete you. And Groundhog Day has its place.
Editor's note: Alexandra Stevenson, a Wimbledon semifinalist in 1999, has been out of the game for a prolonged period of time while rehabbing a shoulder injury. Stevenson has pronounced herself healthy this year and is vying to get back into the game.
I wish it were easier to get back to the top of women's tennis. It's not. I played in Boston last week in a $50,000 Challenger Series event.
A good comparison for Challengers is probably Single A baseball. It's bad food, old locker rooms, small towels, cheap hotels, a change of surface and mostly friendly volunteers. Double A and Triple A would be too nice to compare. I know, I've thrown the first pitch at a few minor league ballparks.
I've spilled a lot of tears in Challengers trying to come back. In Challengers, tennis clubs around the world find sponsors and put on the tournaments for players to work on ranking points and their game. It's under the umbrella of the International Tennis Federation. You pay for your hotel, airfare, coaching, food, stringing, entry fee and any additional expenses.
You might associate Challengers with Andre Agassi. He was 144th in the world and used Challengers to get back into playing shape. I had a longer way to go -- I was ranked in the 900s.
Let's face it: Being 18th in the world and turning 23 years old was the perfect way to bring my game to the top. But now, even though I am still 20-something, the journey back brings so much more angst.
The major problem at the Challenger level is the lack of licensed physical therapists. On the WTA Tour, the sports science staff is superior in credentials and physical-therapy treatments. WTA trainers will find a way to make your body parts work on the court. I strained my adductor (hip muscle) and hamstring at Wimbledon in my second match of qualifying, when I slipped on the grass during a mild rain shower. The adductor acted up in Boston during my quarterfinal match in the second set. I lost the ability to explode off my left leg. I realized it was going to be tough to continue. I didn't feel strong, my leg had throbbing pain, but I stayed out there and took the loss.
It's hard to carry on sometimes. The whole time I was trying to grind out that match, my best friend, Kristen -- a New York accountant -- was spending her weekend at the Surf Lodge, a new hot spot for the summer in Montauk, on Long Island. I envied her, because a loss is not my idea of fun.
You have to learn to lose as a tennis player and move on so you can win. I wrote about losing for a poetry class at the University of Colorado. Here it is:
The tennis court is meant to showcase grace and power,
Unstoppable athleticism where the ball sails like a fast-moving car
Impossible shots that skid through the court
For one player there is a final shot missed
A ball that is driven twice as hard as needed
Or a lob that arcs the wrong way across the blue sky
A deep volley that is punched into the loose net
The player can hear her coach trying to draw her through it, the words spinning in her mind
"Move your feet … Bend your knees … Spin it … Chip the returns … Get your first serve in."
Meanwhile, the player lifts her body into one last service motion, stretching her fingertips
The ball slams into the net, empty air beside the player, a last error
A feeling of despair, her muscles twitching
The player's racket dangling by her side
The actress inside forcing a cool appearance on her face
But she is thinking, "My God, not again."
The player wipes her hand on her skirt
Shake the opponent's hand, smile, "Good match."
Look at the boy in the audience with the big yellow ball, his eyes following the player
Place the sunglasses on her face, a shield that keeps the world away
See the crowd push for her attention, the boy swaying in the crush, giving his pen and ball to the player
Sign the big yellow ball for the boy who grins with a million-dollar smile at the player
It's time to wave goodbye, a gesture that is warm, unlike the cold certainty of the match result
Quiet in the locker room, the bags spilling over with clothes, ice packs waiting, players looking the other way
The player affectionately touches her rackets, looking at the strings, remembering the beautiful, rolling strokes
In the pressroom, they sit in rows of gray plastic folding chairs, some are standing, and the cameras are clicking
They ask about the games that got away, not the moment when the big, flat serve went down the middle at 124 mph.
They don't ask about the games that showcase beauty, phenomenal power and grace
Instead, they ask, "Why did you lose?"
Nothing has happened to the player's game. It is still there, a level of excellence that is ready to rise
The tears fall down the player's brown-sunburned cheeks as she looks at strangers looking back at her
It is the easiest of conversations to talk about the constructed points, the fluid abandon that the player feels
But, the crisis of the moment is so deep, that she thinks no further.
Most players don't have a press contingent come around at Challengers events after they lose. I've lost count of how many reporters show up in small towns and big cities to interview me, win or lose. My mother, Samantha Stevenson, a journalist, tells me, "Feel flattered that they care about you."
The two female reporters from the Bay State Banner and the Boston Globe said they came mostly because of my "back story." "You have an interesting family dynamic," they said. They didn't really care that I lost. They got that it was a process and progress had been made during the week. Hallelujah.
And, they waited an hour for me to finish in the training room. I felt like I was on "The View." Our hot topics were my tennis, Carrie Bradshaw, God, age, being American, locker room politics, chick lit, boy friends, Derek Jeter (the Yankees were playing the Red Sox).
So, here I am with a week to rehab the adductor and play in qualifying at Stanford. Small steps for Chris Pogson, my physical therapist -- and Chris Coleman, the boxing coach -- to coax my muscles back to an explosive state.
Today, I moved into Stanford qualifying with my ranking points -- and this is the first time I haven't had to wait until the sign-in deadline (the day before play) to find out my status.
You might wonder why it's taking me longer to get back than it took Martina Hingis during her comeback or Lindsay Davenport following the birth of her son? Hingis and Davenport are Grand Slam champions -- and they were allowed unlimited wild card entries. I must use my ranking points to get into qualifying of events, while building back into the top 100 -- and moving into the top 20 -- and No. 1 in the world. It's like Rafael Nadal said after his amazing win over Roger Federer: "It's my dream." You have to dream big to make it.
Making it means having a dream team. Look at Dara Torres. I have admired her training team for a long time. I've got my mom. I've got Pogson and Coleman, and a chiropractor and soft tissue specialist. I've got the most famous functional specialist in the world -- Pete Egoscue -- who has worked on giving me a balanced body since I was 10 years old. But, I don't have a designated coach who travels and hits with me every day, because that would require a salary to pay him. I hire hitting coaches on the road, and at home in Los Angeles, I am fortunate to have coaches who have known me since I was 9: Robert Lansdorp, my childhood coach and the groundstroke genius who brought my strokes back after surgery; Chuck Kingman at Seal Beach Tennis Club, who drills me over and over and keeps me up to date on pop celebrity; and Barry Horowitz at Mountaingate Country Club -- I call Barry "The Professor" because he has such a brilliant take on the game. These guys remain in the trenches, believing in my game and my way back.
Because, in my mind, I want it back the way it used to be. I remember all my old Wimbledons, and I even remember a young Rafael Nadal as a junior player, staring me down. It was 2002, and junior players are not allowed to practice at Aorangi, the practice site. Well, a young Nadal, who was playing juniors at Wimbledon, walked down to my practice court that year, which was in the back, and he pressed his face against the gate, watching me hit. It was in the day when I worried about who was around my court because of all the press and the father issues, so I asked my mom to go see who was at the gate. She did. She said to the young boy at the gate, "You are Nadal, the player who is supposed to be a great champion one day." I kid you not. She said that. She invited him in. He said, in broken English, "No, no, I watch her. Semifinals at Wimbledon." And he smiled. It seems he wanted to see the girl who had made history.
I thought that was cute back then -- and, looking back on it, it goes along with him and his champion's mentality -- he cared about history and wanted to see it up close. I want to see it up close again, too.
Editor's note: Alexandra Stevenson, a former Wimbledon semifinalist in 1999, has been out of the game for a prolonged period of time, rehabbing a shoulder injury. Stevenson has pronounced herself healthy this year and is vying to get back into the game. She takes us through her qualifying journey to get into the main draw at Wimbledon.
Last week
I was in Birmingham, England for a grass warmup to Wimbledon. It was my first time back in five years, and it seems like I've been away from the tour forever. Mostly, people still come up to me and say, "Oh, you're the girl who played great at Wimbledon a couple of years ago." It was nine seasons ago. And hey, you're that basketball player's daughter." Or I'll be in the security line at any airport in America and one of the guards will start talking to his pal, "That's Dr. J's girl." In the beginning when everyone found out who my father was, I didn't like the intrusion. Now, I tell my mom, "They are fans. They've got my back." And just so you know, I still haven't met my father. But, for the first time, I don't mind telling you that I am the daughter of Samantha Stevenson and Julius Erving.
I had labral shoulder surgery on September 21, 2004 with Dr. James Andrews in Birmingham, Alabama. It was a labral tear on my right shoulder -- my serving shoulder. My injury was likened to a baseball pitcher throwing 95 mph fastballs. My serve was 108-126 mph. My second serve was 100-115 mph. My coach used to say, "Do Goran [Ivanisovic] -- down the middle, flat and big." We practiced big serves every day from the time I was 9 years old.
Quarterbacks and pitchers come back from this surgery in about 18 months. Tennis players have a harder road because they have to hit a tennis ball. It took me 3½ with a lot of starts, stops and retirements within the match. A pitching coach can pull a pitcher and rest him for four days. I had to retire as soon as the pain was too much to bear and lose a tournament. We worked on motion, strength and endurance. I had amazing help from Mark Verstegen at Athletes Performance and star physical therapists like Kevin Wilk in Birmingham, Gary Guerrero in New York, Bob Donatelli in Las Vegas and Omi Iwasaki in Los Angeles. And now, Chris Pogson in Santa Monica. These guys brought me back to the game. And so did the training room.
This is the sacred place for athletes and trainers where you lay on tables and get your injuries worked on and talk. The talk kept me going. For the last three years I have talked about everything with professional athletes: guys from soccer, baseball, basketball, football, hockey and wrestling. We talk about girlfriends, boyfriends, politics, business and getting back from the injury and the pain. No one is allowed not to believe. I made my first rap in front of some highly rated NBA draft players and I passed their test. I'm healthy now, so I'm out of the training room and I miss the one of a kind camaraderie that you can only get from team players.
I can see the Wimbledon grounds from my bedroom window. I have lived in the same yellow house on Marryat Road since I was a junior in 1998. It always looks the same and every Wimbledon season you can count on the same moments like saying hello to Jimmy and Colette Evert as they walk past my house to collect their tickets for the day's games.
My mom, Samantha Stevenson, and I live with Nigel and Pam Jennings and their sons, Nick, Simon and Tom. Tom was 3 years old when I first came into the house. Now, Nick is 17 at Kings College Wimbledon, Simon is 16 at Epsom College and Tom is 13 and graduating from Rokeby, a private boys' school. The boys are my passionate supporters and remember every Wimbledon story. They remind me that their favorite moment -- other than my winning matches -- was the year they were allowed to pick up practice balls for Anna Kournikova and me on a Wimbledon court. Anna showed up in black bike shorts and the Wimbledon director, Chris Gorringe, promptly asked her to change into whites. Anna took Harold Solomon's new white shorts out of his bag, cut the tags -- with coach Harold loudly complaining -- and to the delight of my three boys undressed on the court and redressed.
My shoulder got strong in April. I made a six-week run on the clay to gain ranking points -- and clay is not my best surface. I learned to love the clay and moved 200 spots. It was not enough for Wimbledon main draw, but I am close to getting into qualifying.
So, what am I doing out here? I'm working to be No. 1 in the world and win Grand Slam championships. I lost 3½ seasons, but my body is trained and fit. Gil Reyes, Andre Agassi's fitness coach, told me that I'm really a 23 year-old in my body because of my time off. I'll go with that.
Tuesday
I made it into Wimbledon qualifying. I was the next to last one in -- and it was close. Two girls pulled out in the last 10 minutes. My first-round match was against Neuza Silva from Portugal. I won in three sets, 6-4, 4-6, 6-4. The conditions were windy and noisy. The grounds at Roehampton are notorious for the bunched courts -- bad bounces on the grass -- and airplanes flying out of Heathrow directly over your match. Silva was a tricky player with her quality backhand slice. The toss on my serve was moving too much in the wind and I had to figure out how to get a first serve in the court. My serve was on at the end of the third set and I was happy to go to the training room a winner with a backhand down the line.
I definitely had butterflies in the beginning of the match. I was ready to play, but I felt rushed. I was the first match on and we had a traffic delay before my practice time as we were driving into the grounds. There are times when you see the ball so big and your feet really feel the ground. I didn't feel that today. I had to really work on every point. I competed and that's what pulled me through. It may be qualifying, but it is Wimbledon qualifying. Two more to go.
Wednesday
I lost today on Court A -- the only one in Roehampton grounds that had not been played on during the tournament. My scheduled court was No. 12 and the groundsmen took the court out and moved the matches. Court A felt like a grass field. No excuses. Someone had to win, but I would prefer a proper grass court like Wimbledon. These courts are built on a cricket field that is not meant for tennis. Bottom line -- when you play Wimbledon you had better be in the main draw. Qualifying for any Grand Slam is difficult, but none more than Wimbledon qualis at Roehampton.
Having said that, I wanted to play here because I have worked so hard to bring my shoulder back from surgery. I am healthy and fit. I thought I was ready to play, but there is something to be said about match toughness. I haven't had enough matches to play my best tennis -- and I missed out on a warmup event in Birmingham by one player because of my ranking.
I knew this would not be easy, but my athlete's mentality expected me to win my matches. It was the biggest emotional letdown of my career. This was the first time I was in a position to play in a Grand Slam tournament with a healthy body. I dream big as everyone should, but when the dream dies you feel like you are at the bottom of an abyss with no way out. I cried 10 times throughout the day. My coach, Jason Nius, said he could sense there was more riding on the match than just the match. He said he found it difficult to talk to me when he saw the disappointment and the tears. He thought I was hitting the ball great going into the tournament. I walked to the training room sobbing. Christian, my friend and advisor told me before the match I would need a lot of energy because of my emotions.
Roehampton was the start of my career -- and the disruption of my professional job when I realized I needed shoulder surgery in 2004. I guess you could look at this new start as positive -- and though I lost Wednesday this is the beginning of my comeback. Sometimes in life things don't always go the way you want them to and you have to adjust.
On Saturday, Jenny Mitchell and the Hurlingham Club asked me to play in an exhibition against Maria Sharapova. I have played several Garden Parties at Hurlingham during my early career and the club members were excited to see me healthy and playing at such a high level. A Garden Party at Hurlingham is a throwback to traditional grass tennis. I agreed to play. Sharapova sent a message through her agent: "Not for a million dollars will I play Alexandra Stevenson." I'm glad I still strike fear in a top player.
Alexandra Stevenson
