In many ways, Amelie Mauresmo seemed to have it all. It wasn’t just that in ’06 she won both the Aussie Open and Wimbledon, became France’s first No. 1 player in the world since Suzanne Lenglen or Henri Cochet, or led her nation to the ’03 Fed Cup title, she was fun loving and interesting. After all, she was a legitimate wine connoisseur and didn’t hesitate to appear on the cover of Paris Match on a motorcycle in a wide-open shirt, knee-high boots and a studded belt. And, yes, her athletic shoulders — rounded and rippled — were women’s tennis’ answer to Rafa Nadal’s offering.
But for all her gifts and on-court accomplishments, there was always a certain shadow, an asterisk if you will, to her career. When she first emerged in ’99 and bravely outed herself as a lesbian, the sassy, more-than-insensitive Martina Hingis dismissed her as being “half a man,” and Lindsay Davenport claimed she “played like a man.” When she struggled in big tournaments, it was quickly noted that she and Kim Clijsters were the best players of their day never to win a Slam. Some even dubbed her the biggest choker since Jana Novotna.
When she finally broke through in ’06 and seemed to be on route to the Australian Open title, Justine Henin inexplicably pulled off one of the great “no mas” moments in tennis history when she claimed she was suffering from a stomach malady and couldn’t play on. Mauresmo’s great moment of triumph was not denied, but it was certainly muted. The thrill of victory was contained. That same season, Mauresmo would go on to unleash her many weapons (among them one of the most potent backhands in the game) on Wimbledon’s grass to claim the title. This time, she could celebrate with free-form glee. “The smile on her face,” claimed Radio Wimbledon, “is streaming from here to Paris.”
But as much as anything, Mauresmo was known for her astounding collapses in the great tournament of her homeland, the French Open. Here, Amelie’s fighting ability was less than legendary. The London Times once noted that “[she] walks onto a tennis court like John Wayne coming in to clean up a town, with a drunk mayor and a crooked sheriff. She has a wonderful the hell-you-will physique, imposing and muscular. She was wearing a top cut to maximize the breadth of her shoulders. She’s the duke of the circuit, but when she gets into those eyeball-to-eyeball encounters, she reaches for her gun fast as lighting — and then drops the damn thing.”
Sadly, she was central to one of the worst predictions in tennis history. When covering opening day in Paris one year, broadcaster Patrick McEnroe predicted that Mauresmo would win the French Open, his brother, John, turned to him and said, “I’ve got something to tell you. She’s already lost today.”
Once when asked how she could prevent another Roland Garros implosion, Mauresmo chuckled and said, “Clear my head, have a brain graft.” Another year, she hired the charismatic French champion Yannick Noah to be her coach and guru. When the move failed, Lisa Dillman noted, “Adding the inspiration of Noah to Mauresmo’s camp wasn’t enough. What’s next? Channeling the spirit of Suzanne Lenglen?” Ivan Speck captured the essence of Amelie’s Paris problem when he said, “There can be few things in life as disheartening as succumbing to the fears you thought you had overcome, Paris in springtime was its usual trial for Amelie Mauresmo.”
With her wide-ranging game, ample skills and thoughtful takes on any number of matters, Mauresmo was always a happy addition to the tennis scene. Now the wine collector is heading into the cellar. But her marquee year — ’06, when she won both the Aussie and Wimbledon — will be remembered as one of the better vintages in tennis’ collection: mature, nuanced and more than balanced.
