I went back to Practice Court A again yesterday to take another look at the 15-year-old sensation from Georgia (the nation, and I don’t mean the Bulldog Nation one state north of here), Anna Tatishvili, who was playing in the semifinals of the girls’ draw. She’s on the radar now because she’s come under the wing of Chris Evert, the celebrated but very level-headed former champion who doesn’t dispense accolades emotionally or indiscriminately. I picked up a lot of the background on this from Fellow Press Pariah Charles Bricker of the Florida Sun-Sentinel—he’s one of the most hard working—and hard-nosed—tennis writers in the business.
When I got to the court, Anna was down a set and a break to the top seed, Aleksandra Wozniak. About a hundred people were lined up watching along a low green fence separating a picnic area from this court, and others stood watching on the bench seats and even tabletops of the picnic tables. That’s one of the (few) great things about big, sprawling, deep-draw tournaments—there’s a lot going on, often in crazy places, and you never know just what you might bump into if you so much as go looking for a hot dog or that 456th gimme cap that you absolutely, positively must have.
Anna, who’s already put up some impressive wins in minor-league events this year, played in the main draw here at the Nasdaq-100. She lost in the first round, although she was up a break in the third against Arantxa Parra, a Top 100 talent. Anna’s only 5-foot-6 and 130 pounds. She wears a short blond ponytail and has ferret-like features, evocative of Monica Seles, but she’s more solidly built than Seles was at that age. Her most striking qualities are very quick feet, tight focus, and highly disciplined stroke production. She’s got a peachy game, highlighted by a great talent for using the entire court and playing close to the lines without exactly going for nuclear, Seles-like winners. And, she appears to possess a steely, fearless heart. Sound familiar?
I slipped up to the fence at one end of the court and unexpectedly found myself standing alongside Tatishvili’s parents, Dmitry and Manana. They hung on the fence like two railbirds at the race track. He’s a short, hefty guy with short salt-and-pepper hair. A former soccer pro, he was dressed in the same unremarkable clothes as yesterday—a light-blue checkered shirt, shorts, and athletic shower sandals.
It was obvious that Dmitry was living and dying with every point. When Anna lost one, he’d throw up his hands, turn away, looked imploringly at the sky, or throw out a few choice phrases in a language I didn’t understand. A 10-year-old kid standing at the rail next to Manana at one point turned to her and asked, “Is that your daughter? Wow. She’s awesome!” Manana ignored the boy and his remark.
From 15-40—double-match point—down at 3-5, with Dmitry’s expostulations punctuating every point, Anna got back to deuce. She then hit a big forehand winner and saved the game with an ace. Very impressive stuff.
Although she pushed Wozniak in the next game, the top seed served it out. I watched as the crowd drifted away. Manana and Dmitry left separately. I lingered, waiting for Anna to gather her things and leave the court. When she did, Dmitry appeared out of the crowd, went over and, grabbing her thick red racquet bag, walked her to another nearby grassy area. He sat her down at a picnic table and launched into what clearly was a monologue, complete with repeated gesticulations, while his daughter just sat, eyes cast down, not even a bottle of water in front of her.
It was kind of sad. I don’t know of a single successful coach or savvy tennis parent who doesn’t give a kid some space and breathing room—and we’re talking hours, not minutes—after a disappointing loss. I wandered off to get a crab-cake sandwich and some fries for lunch. When I returned, about 10 minutes later, Dmitry was still going, full bore. I sat about 100 feet away, out of earshot, and ate, watching. The only thing left of my meal when the Tatishvilis finally got up and walked away was three French fries.
A short while later, I bumped into Max Eisenbud, the hottest young agent in the business (he represents, among others, Sharapova and Tatishvili.) I told him how impressed I was by Anna, and asked if Chris was as emotionally invested in Tatishvili as I’d heard. “She is,” Max said. “All that stuff about Chris now having something like a daughter to be involved with is true.” When I told Max what I’d witnessed after the match, his immediate reply was, “You must be a fast eater.”
This guy is smart. After we laughed, Max said he felt things were under control. He talked about what a bright, thoughtful girl Anna is; he didn’t exactly say that she’s got the parents all figured out and has learned to manage them—but I’m pretty sure that’s what he meant.