Gabriela Sabatini

Being as beautiful as she clearly was (no doubt still is), and having spent so much time on court being photographed, there are many good photos of Sabatini around.

From a photographer’s aesthetic viewpoint, I believe Gabby Sabby looked her picture-perfect-best at the back end of the eighties and the first couple of years into the nineties… and she easily put Barbikova in the shade.

Gabriela Sabatini also possessed some of my all-time favourite tennis ground strokes. Her topspin and slice backhands are so clearly defined, they’ve have always been great models for youngsters to copy, which is why I’ve used so many images of her in the tennis books.

Some time in the early 90s I interviewed Sabatini in a one-on-one.
Before the interview I went to some trouble preparing my questions, and we sat together in the player’s lounge, with her family and full entourage in the background, including the ever-present (wo)man from the WTA.

As much as I tried I couldn’t kick-start a conversation, Gabby just mouthed the vague answers that have become so familiar in sports interviews. Perhaps this is one consequence of having spent her young life on a tennis court and detached from the real world, where real opinions are formed as you bump, grind and grit your way through everyday situations.

Too often though, tennis players are treated as commercial entities or commodities, to be cosseted and shielded from the real world, lest ‘the product’ gets a whiff of other interests, and decides to break free.

Within the unreality of this sponsored cocoon, flattery is on tap 24/7 and players can never say what they truly mean, unless they accidentally devalue the currency that they have inadvertently (or knowingly) become.

There has always been a healthy ambivalence in my feelings towards the world of tennis, especially as I’ve got older.

Yes, the skill of the participants and the competition can be breathtaking.
For sure, the game itself is a joy to play, especially for the young.

And yet…
‘It is a pity to sow the seeds of vain and foolish tastes in your heart, taking up the place of better things…‘ wrote a far wiser man than me.

Better things indeed! But watching Gabby on court the next day, all loops, whips, swings and dips, and a skirt flailing in the trail of her glorious centrifugal arc, it all made sense.

Actually, no. It didn’t make sense. It has never made sense… fully.

But asking questions that called into question this ‘f****ed up tennis life‘ (as Agassi well describes it in OPEN) seemed once again surplus to media requirements.

While you are in the game – journalist or participant – why not just shut up and play it?

As I left my interview with Sabatini, and walked from the air conditioned player’s lounge into the heavy night air, the man from the WTA followed me out to tell me earnestly, ‘that’s the most interesting interview I’ve ever heard Gabby give!‘ seemingly unaware he was admiring the Naked Emperor’s new clothes.

Viewed from the real world, the nearest Gabby and I got to ‘interesting’ was right at the end, when we began to chat about music. As I picked up my bag to leave, I took out my Walkman and gave Sabatini the copy of an album I was listening to at the time, by The Art of Noise.
Bella Gabriela smiled naturally for the first time.
Never did find out if she liked it.