!96465064 by Pete Bodo
When Ana Ivanovic repaired to the locker room in the bowels of Madison Square Garden after losing a very close one-set semifinal tussle in the Billie Jean King Cup exhibition yesterday, her first words to Kim Clijsters, the woman who beat her, were: "I've never been introduced in a match as being a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model!"
Clijsters, having been rather less sexily introduced as the first mother to win Wimbledon since Evonne Goolagong in 1980, shared a laugh with Ivanovic over that presumed honor, although Kim had other things on her mind - namely, Venus Williams, whom she would have to face shortly in the best-of-three, no-ad scoring final of the exo (more about that tomorrow; as most of you know, Venus won, 7-5 in the third).
It was a characteristically innocent remark by Ivanovic; she seems amazed that her cameo in the famous swimsuit issue has generated so much hype (at least in the U.S.). And when she related her exchange with Clijsters, it was in the same breathless, giggly manner with which she'd undoubtedly shared her surprise - a manner of engagement with which we all are by now familiar.
Ivanovic meets the world with a smile, and her laughter is unmistakably nervous; I take all that as a sublimation of her essential shyness. You just know that someone so prone to the breathless and cheerful has something to hide - herself. And that's not a criticism. The behaviors are a psychic olive branch, offered by one who's not entirely comfortable as the center of attention, perhaps not even in her own skin. If it could be done in a seemly, lady-like manner, Ivanovic would probably roll onto her back at the sight of you, exposing her tummy with her paws in the air.
This complicates things considerably, because it might seem that Ivanovic has very little to smile about these days, given her plummet in the rankings (to a present No. 27). The state of her game reinforces the idea that her girlish ways are a defense mechanism. What on earth does this girl have to be happy about? is a natural question to ask.
But the answer to that might be: quite a bit. After all, not every circus clown is crying inside, despite the popularity of that narrative. And some people aren't happy because of this or that (like, say, a lucrative lifetime endorsement deal with Adidas?), they're just, well. . . happy. They write songs about such people. Some of us mistrust such people. And such people are not supposed to be top tennis players. In Ivanovic's case, that issue is far from resolved.
Yesterday, Ivanovic seemed content with herself, and convincingly happy with her game, optimistic about her prospects in the big upcoming tournaments at Indian Wells and Miami. She was the opposite - and strikingly so - of the defensive, unhappy player she has ever right to be. Sorry to disappoint anyone who would have it any other way.
Ivanovic's sunny disposition - is there a WTA player who seems more gentle and innocent? - must be one reason she seems so relaxed; her shyness and the particular way she expresses it also advance the theory. And while those qualities will not win her matches or help her rein in that gone-wild ball toss, they're not bad allies in her ongoing battle against loss of confidence and self-esteem. And now there's another factor shaping her view of the future, her new coach, Heinz Gunthardt, who has coached (among others), Steffi Graf. You remember Steffi, aka Mrs. Andre Agassi? Can anyone be shy in so different a way than Ivanovic?
That's all okay with Heinz; he's an equal-opportunity shy-player shaper. And he's as shrewd and perceptive a judge of a player's hidden nature and abused assets as anyone. Gunthardt and Ivanovic have only worked together for 10 days, but Ivanovic says she can "feel" a huge improvement. And very few damaged players would have said, as Ivanovic did yesterday immediately after she lost to Clijsters, "I'm so excited, I wish I could go back on the practice court to hit more balls."
Ivanovic believes she's playing better, which is more than half the battle. She also admitted that her slump cut a little deeper than typical professional problems do, even though bouts of Marat Safin-esque introspection are not her forte. "It hurts (emotionally)," she said. "You play bad one week and it's okay, it happens. But when it's week after week, it gets. . . hard. You think, 'This is what I do best, and this is all I can do?'
The recent Fed Cup disaster in Serbia probably was Ivanovic's low point, or so she must hope. She admits to having felt an enormous amount of pressure playing against the Russians in front of her partisan countrymen in Belgrade (Ivanovic lost both her singles, and was part of the losing doubles team). But she says that's behind her now. A lot is behind her. "I see everything more clearly now because I'm playing better. I've been defending too much, when naturally I am an aggressive player."
Ivanovic isn't the first mild-mannered personality to pursue an aggressive style of play, but the contrast between her temperament and her most effective game is especially striking. Gunthardt feels he knows the root causes of the recent problems that helped wreck her confidence.
"The first thing I told Ana when we considered working together was, 'Forget about technique; there's nothing wrong your technique,'" Gunthardt told me last night. "The most important thing, I told her, was that when you start to think about something that comes naturally - like swallowing, or breathing - you can't do it naturally anymore."
One morning, Gunthardt surprised Ana by asking her to start practice by hitting 40 serves. He stood by, watching and counting, as she slowly unlimbered and served ball after ball. After the 40th ball, he remarked, "Your ball toss, it's perfect every time."
The very next toss, Gunthardt said, went astray. He smiled at her. Point made.
So the primary mission for Gunthardt is teaching or showing Ivanovic how to un-think. That's a somewhat delicate assignment, but both coach and player are well-designed for it. Gunthardt has a logical, keen, perceptive mind; he knows how to challenge a player, intellectually, by playing devil's advocate. He knows as much about mental as physical stretching. Ivanovic has surprised him with her intellect. "She's much more well-rounded and astute than the other women I've dealt with recently," he told me. "She's certainly the first player who's quoted (Sigmund) Freud to me."
Of course, being smart won't get it done for Ivanovic, nor will being well-read. She faces a tough, obstacle-strewn road, but she's shown an impressive degree of patience with herself. That's not to be underestimated - a player at war with herself is useless.
Ivanovic says she's "very determined" to get back to the top; she smiled as she said that, but I was long past questioning her resolve or sincerity. "I still love the game," she added, "But the way I've been playing - well, it didn't make it very enjoyable."
It isn't exactly crying clown territory, but it's as close as someone with as sanguine a disposition as Ivanovic is apt to come.