Chang Takes Tennis Any Way He Can Get It

Another day, another Andrei. Cherkasov on Friday, Chesnokov on Sunday. Michael Chang played both of them, beat both of them, could tell the difference between both of them.

Confusion is seldom a state of mind for an American French Open champion named Chang who lives in Coto de Casa and Henderson, Nev., and won a Grand Slam tennis title two years before he could legally drive an automobile.

Tennis can be a simple game, Chang believes, but only if you let it. Take this tournament, for instance. Chang entered the Newsweek Champions Cup seeded behind 11 other players, but finished ahead of all of them, largely because he was required to play none of them.

No Guy Forget. He was beaten by Andrei Cherkasov, who was beaten by Chang in the quarterfinals.

No Pete Sampras. He was beaten by Jakob Hlasek, who was beaten by Francisco Clavet, who was beaten by Chang in the semifinals.

Most of all, no Jim Courier. The world’s newly anointed No. 1 player was beaten by Andrei Chesnokov, who also beat 1991 Wimbledon champion Michael Stich on his way to Sunday’s final.

Anything else we can do for you, Mr. Chang?

In Chang’s post-match press conference, every step of the winner’s gilded path was recounted for his benefit.

No seeded opponents in any of his six matches.

Baseliners in all three of his last matches.

A rib injury to Chesnokov that left Chang with half an opponent during his eventual 6-3, 6-4, 7-5 final-round victory.

Chang listened intently and then brightened.

“I’ll take it!” he exclaimed.

With one sound bite, Chang had summed up a four-year, multimillion dollar career. He’ll take it. Of course he will.

Given what he was given at birth, in terms of tennis ball-crushing potential, the 5-8, 145-pound Chang has carved out a living only by scrounging and scavenging and taking whatever he can find.

“I don’t think I have a shot, a one-shot thing where I can put everybody away,” Chang said. “My game is to take two or three shots, set it up and go for it.

“Because I’m a little bit smaller, I’m not as strong as some other guys. I don’t have a forehand like Sampras. I think it’d be nice, to have a good weapon like that, day in and day out.”

Chang reads his Bible, day in and day out, but that’s not to say he hasn’t coveted his neighbors’ goods. If Michael Chang was building Michael Chang from scratch, the creator said he would want Becker’s first serve, Stich’s second serve, Edberg’s volleys, Cash’s overhead, Lendl’s drop shot and Sampras’ forehand.

Any keepers from the original model?

One. “I’d keep my mind,” Chang said.

He usually does.

Distractions abounded Sunday, and if the crowd had had its way, there would have been a different winner. Chesnokov’s work ethic appealed to the masses. The Russian had reached the final the American way, once upon a time; he earned it, having defeated seventh-seeded Emilio Sanchez, plus Courier, plus Stich, to get there.

Once there, Chesnokov was hindered by a sore rib cage. Eight games into the match, he began pressing a hand to his side. After the first set, a trainer was dispatched to Chesnokov’s chair and the player’s ribs were tightly wrapped, so that the match could continue.

Two points later, Chesnokov dramatically stepped away from the baseline, lifted up his shirt, pulled off the wrap and threw it aside.

For the rest of the afternoon, the crowd was his.

If Chang was flustered, it showed only briefly. He fell behind in the second set, 2-4, before breaking back twice to win at 6-4--then nearly repeated the trick by erasing another 2-4 deficit in the third set before winning it, 7-5.

It was another small slice of the grind-it-out tennis that has become Chang’s personal trademark ever since his leg-cramped French Open triumph over Ivan Lendl in 1989. This time, the stakes were less, but they weren’t bad. For the first time in almost a year, Chang returned to the top 10. And by winning for the second time this year, Chang found himself $132,000 richer, which partly explains the mystery behind his new dual residency.

Chang has homes in Henderson and Coto de Casa, but by listing Henderson as his official residence, he gets to keep more of that $132,000 now. That’s the thing about Nevada: No state tax.

Chang says he also likes the fishing in Lake Mead.

So that is what’s new in the life of Michael Chang. At 20, he’s searching for tax shelters. But at least now, he can drive to them. If 1989 was a huge year for Chang, consider 1991. He finally got his driver’s license.

“I bombed the parallel parking,” he said, still chagrined about it. “I’m sitting there and the instructor says, ‘OK, park behind that car.’ And I say, ‘That red car?’ And she says, ‘That’s the only one that’s red.’ ”

Fortunately for Chang, he drove better than he parked. He passed, but he really wanted those parallel parking points. A lack of training, Chang complains. “It’s difficult, being on the road as much as I am,” he said. “I didn’t get much time to practice.”

And what kind of car does Chang drive?

“A Toyota 4-Runner. I’m really not into speedy cars.”

The lesser-equipped models get you where you’re going just the same. Chang knows. If works that way on the tennis court, why not take it on the road?