FULL VERSION Seles vs Huber Australian Open 1996

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• published: 14 Mar 2017
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She did everything she could. Stayed in the same room, at the same hotel. Practiced at the same time, said hello to the faces she remembered from before. Monica Seles came to Melbourne three weeks ago looking to reshape time and fact, hoping to erase more than two years of doubt and fear and pain. The key was not to think too hard. Seles would walk the halls of the Flinders Park tennis complex and see photos of that teenager holding the championship trophy in '91, '92 or '93 and looking new and so happy. She would feel the truth like a mean wind, and not even winning again could change that. She is not that girl anymore. Seles's opponents are asking themselves the same question. Since Seles left the game in April 1993, after having been stabbed by Parche during a tournament in Germany, a new generation of talent has risen in women's tennis, secretly sure it had made the strides needed to handle Seles upon her return. As she accepted her trophy in front of 14,879 cheering fans crowding Centre Court, Seles thought of last year, when she had watched the final onTV. "It's just great to be back," Seles said, her quavering voice filling the stadium. "I still can't believe I'm here." But the fact is, Seles herself had no hopes of winning in Australia in the months following her return to tennis last August. Certainly her dramatic and draining loss to Graf in the U.S. Open final was a perfect jump start to the second half of her career, but then the machine seized up. Tendinitis in her left knee and torn ankle ligaments forced Seles to withdraw from one event after another. The lack of action, especially after such a build up, threw Seles for a loss. She found herself falling into the same state of depression that had consumed her during the winter after she was stabbed. "A lot of times, when I would be home, keeping to myself, I'd be very down and everything would start back again," Seles said a few days before the final. In early December, Seles became afflicted with recurring dizziness that left her barely able to leave bed. No one could tell her what was wrong. Seles consulted various doctors, visiting the Mayo Clinic twice. Her condition was diagnosed as meningitis, then as severe flu. Her treatment included iron tablets and vitamin supplements. By the time she reached the Australian Open final, Seles's game was in woeful shape. Her ground strokes lacked their usual force; her shots weren't scraping the lines. Her hip ached, and she had pulled a tendon in her right ankle. Without daily heat treatment and massage therapy, she could barely lift her left arm above her shoulder. She huffed around the court, out of shape. It didn't matter. Seles possesses something more important than a gym-perfect body: She is a pure competitor, with athletic gifts that have nothing to do with muscle. In the first set Huber pushed Seles four feet behind the baseline with penetrating strokes and broke her to go up 3-2. Seles responded by refusing to give in during the sixth game, which produced nine deuces. Huber finally dumped a forehand into the net. It was the old story of Seles's ferocious will--except that Seles came to Melbourne not sure she had it anymore. "I thought maybe I was missing that part," Seles said after the final. "It meant a lot to know it's still there, to know that I could pull it out." At her post match press conference, Seles giggled over the win and spoke of her plans: the French Open again, the Olympics, perhaps a Wimbledon title at last. Someone asked about playing in Germany, and she grew angry and said it would be very hard to feel safe there. Someone asked again about Germany, and Seles said she didn't want to think about it and she stopped talking. She began to cry. She pulled her hat down over her eyes. One photographer's flash fired, and then they were all popping before her eyes like small bombs. "Don't take pictures of this," Seles said softly. Instead of racing out of the room, Seles tried to push through. She wiped her eyes and asked for another question, an effort she would not have been capable of six months ago. It was progress, however small. Finally Seles mumbled, "There's no point in continuing this," and hurried out. She sat down in a chair in the locker room and cried. The locker room door swings open, and here comes Seles, walking slowly down the gray hallway, surrounded by her friends, her mother, her handlers. Her father, Karolj, hugs her, and she begins to smile. She starts to make her way out of the stadium, sees tournament director Paul McNamee and his wife, Lesley, and their baby, Rowan, and stops to talk. Soon Seles is swinging Rowan in her arms, laughing and spinning around in a tight circle. One second the baby gurgles happily, the next he begins to squall. Seles spins around again. "You're happy one second, the next thing you're crying," she says in a singsong to the baby. He stares, he squirms. He doesn't understand a word she has said.