Impoverished Serb tennis on a roll

Convinced of his talent, his parents paid for everything: rackets, clothes, trips to tournaments, coaches, foreign tennis camps. When he was one of the top 10 junior players in the world – a point at which many countries lavish support on amateur players – the Serbian government gave him about $1,700 a year. Even now, he is struggling to find sponsorship and often travels to tournaments without a coach.

"The current generation of top tennis players has been developing at the worst time for Serbia, from an economic point of view," says Nenad Trifunovic, who has coached Troicki off and on since he was 7.

The only explanation for Serbia's tennis explosion, say tennis insiders here, is raw desire – of the player as well as the parents.

"We're a sports-talented nation," boasts Ivan Radosevic, the spokesman for Serbia's Davis Cup team and an editor at the Balkan's oldest sports daily. "In Serbia, everybody will accept only gold. Silver is for losers."

It's a country that is also desperate for heroes it can call its own. The most famous player associated with Serbia is nine-time Grand Slam winner Monica Seles, who was born in the Serbian city of Novi Sad and played the greatest years of her career under the Yugoslav flag in the early 1990s. But, in the wake of the brutal ethnic fracture of Yugoslavia, many Serbs feel ambiguous about the ethnically Hungarian player who later took US citizenship. Nole is often referred to here as the first Serbian Grand Slam winner.

Today's young Serb players came of age years after Ms. Seles's star had faded, at a point when Serbia's international image was at rock bottom.

In 2003, Troicki was in the locker room before a top juniors tournament when a representative from Nike arrived to hand out gear to young players the company sponsored. When the rep saw Troicki – not on his list – wearing Nike clothes, he offered the young player a contract on the spot. But when he heard Troicki was from the poor and internationally vilified Yugoslavia – which Serbia was then still part of – it didn't exactly strike the rep as fertile ground for brand exposure. He took back the contract and said they'd wait to see how Troicki did at the tournament. The young Serbian tennis player never heard from him again.

"I think he's regretting it now," laughs Troicki, who now has deals with Prince and the Italian sportswear line Diadora. "In Serbia, tennis is the most popular sport now."

•••

At the Tennis Center Usce, 10-year-old Ognjen Pjevic practices his serve on a scuffed clay court in an unheated plastic dome. A scraggly-haired boy with a shy smile, he idolizes Nole. He says he begged his parents for months to let him learn to play. Finally, he wore them down and a few months ago received a new tennis racket and lessons.

Usce is a far cry from the glitz of Gemax, but it, too, is bursting with kids who want to be tennis superstars. Players here pay about $60 a month to use the facilities, plus $20 a lesson – not insignificant amounts in a country where average salaries hover around $660 a month.

Owner Nenad Kmic says parents pay because they see it as an investment in their children's future. No one from the club has gone pro yet, but a few have won tennis scholarships abroad.

"Do you know why Britain has no tennis stars? The rich British send their children to boarding schools," he says, implying that British parents aren't invested in their children's success. Serbia is different, he explains. "The society here is such that people are very attentive to their children."

But, he admits, these days many parents go too far. Tennis mania has gotten so out of control that the national tennis federation hired a child psychologist to write a brochure for parents. The photocopied pamphlet – "You too can be a winning parent" – warns parents that not every child will become a tennis superstar.

"Be realistic," cautions one bullet-pointed section. "Don't let your child develop the feeling that the opponent is the enemy," warns another. Words of wisdom, perhaps, in a place literally torn apart by nationalism.

Previous

1 | 2