Cancer Can’t Keep Him Off the Court : Tennis: Schrameyer, who had his left leg amputated, is the world’s top-ranked wheelchair tennis player.

Kai Schrameyer thought maybe it was just a cramp that wouldn’t go away. Anyway, it wasn’t enough to keep him off the tennis court, the hockey rink, the volleyball court, the soccer field or the basketball court. There was pain, but he was almost used to it, and he wouldn’t let it keep him from pursuing his passion for sport.

But his mother worried about the grimaces she saw on her 14-year-old son’s face when he climbed a flight of stairs, and finally, she demanded he see a doctor. First a doctor, then a specialist, a hospital and the inevitable tests. Then a diagnosis: bone cancer in the left femur, just above the knee.

“At first, they were going to try an operation where they replace the bone with a metal rod,” Schrameyer said, “but the cancer cells had spread from my thigh down to the knee, so the only other alternative was amputation.

“I distinctly remember that the first thing that I thought of when I woke up was, ‘No more sports.’ Sports were my life up until then. And all of sudden, that had been taken from me. Boom , gone.”

Schrameyer had just turned 15, but he was already a veteran at adapting to new lifestyles. Born in Heidelberg, Germany, the son of a diplomat, he already was fluent in English, German and French and spoke passable Spanish, Italian and Russian. Life had been a series of adjustments, three- and four-year stretches spent in India, Poland, West Africa and Belgium.

Soon, Schrameyer began to look at the loss of his leg as little more than a pulled hamstring or a separated shoulder.

He had started playing tennis at 6 and was a “pretty decent” junior player in Germany. And, a little more than a year after the amputation, he was back on the tennis court, playing with a prosthesis.

“I entered a club tournament and it turned out to be one of the most frustrating experiences of my life,” he said. “I played this guy who was in his late 40s or 50s. If I still had my leg, I would have beaten him 6-0, 6-0, but I lost to him because he kept (hitting drop shots).

“He wanted to win and I don’t blame him for that, but I decided that was it. I wanted to be competitive, but I couldn’t really run, so I quit playing all together.”

At this point, Schrameyer was unaware that organized wheelchair sports existed, especially at the level of competition on display this week during the U.S. Open Wheelchair Tennis Championships at the Racquet Club of Irvine.

When he did discover the joys of swatting a cross-court winner from the sitting position, Schrameyer embraced the sport with all the enthusiasm of the Heidelberg teen-ager who used to choke down dinner every night so he could spend a few more precious moments chasing his sporting dreams.

And now, at 25, he’s the world’s top-ranked wheelchair tennis player, having won five of the biggest tournaments of the year so far, the French Open, Dutch Open, British Open, Swiss Open and Israel Open. He suffered his first defeat of the year Saturday afternoon, losing in a rain-delayed semifinal to his doubles partner, nine-time U.S. Open champion Randy Snow.

Schrameyer’s roll to the top of the professional tennis-on-wheels circuit began at the University of Michigan, where he was enrolled for one year “just to get a feel for what college in America was like,” before returning to law school in Heidelberg. An acquaintance asked him if he wanted to play on a wheelchair basketball team.

“I didn’t go through rehab like most of the other guys on the tour who are paraplegics and were introduced to wheelchair sports as part of physical therapy,” he said. “But I really fell in love with it. I was just totally crazy about it. When I got back to Germany, I joined a team there and eventually was on the national team.”

Because of his background in tennis, teammates encouraged Schrameyer to try wheelchair tennis. At first, he was unimpressed. “I thought, ‘This is interesting, but you can’t really move. It’s not really tennis.’ ”

Schrameyer never met a ball he didn’t feel good about smacking, throwing or kicking, though, and soon he was giving wheelchair tennis another look. He entered the 1990 Swiss Open and met Snow.

“I saw him play and I said, ‘This is it; this is real tennis,”’ Schrameyer said, “He wasn’t just pushing the ball across the net. Then I had a chance to meet him and he took the time to talk to me and tell me all about the sport.”

Schrameyer returned home, hired a coach and immersed himself in a rigorous training regimen.

“It’s not really very different at all from able-body tennis,” he said. “You have the same techniques, the same strokes. I used to have a two-handed backhand, so it took me a couple of years to develop a quality one-handed backhand, but mostly it’s a matter of mobility.

“What makes Steffi Graf the best player in the world? Her incredible footwork, her ability to get in position to hit the ball. Mobility, that’s what has made Randy so great all these years.”

The hours Schrameyer had spent hitting ground strokes under a sweltering African sun and on dank indoor courts in Warsaw during his youth began to pay off. His muscle memory refreshed, he quickly progressed into the upper echelons of the world open rankings. But he stalled short of the top five.

“I lost to (France’s) Laurent Giammartini, who was No. 1 at the time, 16 straight times, almost always in the semifinals,” he said. “I was so frustrated. I played some incredible tennis in practice, but I just never lived up to my potential in matches. I was choking on the big points.”

He decided his arms were fine. It was his head that needed work. So he attended a seminar given by sports psychologist James Loehr--who has worked with Gabriela Sabatini and Andre Agassi--and the positive effects of positive thinking were immediately evident in his game.

“I always thought tennis was about hitting the ball, but it’s not. It’s mostly up here,” he said, pointing to his head. “Why do you hit a great forehand in practice, but then choke in matches. It’s fascinating. Research has proven that your muscles actually tighten up when negative thoughts enter your head.

“But if you’re thinking, ‘I have the best forehand; I love my forehand,’ when you swing, then your muscles stay loose. It’s amazingly simple. You can control your physical abilities by your mental state. All of sudden, I started winning the tiebreakers. At 4-4 in the third set, I was going for my shots and hitting winners.

“And now I’m in the No. 1 spot.”

From November to March, Schrameyer resides in what he perceives to be the “real world” as a full-time law student. In the summer months, he becomes a globe-trotting professional athlete.

“Just look at this hotel,” he says, waving his arm at the lobby of the Irvine Hyatt Regency. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not reality. The tennis circuit is fun and it’s a great way to travel and meet people, but it’s not real.”

If professional wheelchair tennis players made 10% as much as professional able-bodied players, Schrameyer would put his studies on hold and concentrate on the unreal world. But his victories this year have been worth an average of about $2,000, which is enough money to cover his expenses and little else.

Wheelchair company sponsors allow the top pros to travel, but few go home at season’s end wealthier than when they left.

“The highest first-place purse ever in wheelchair tennis was $5,000,” Schrameyer said. “First-round losers at Wimbledon got $5,000. It is frustrating. We train as hard as Agassi, (Jim) Courier or (Pete) Sampras, but we don’t get recognized, either financially or by the media.

“Disabled sports don’t get the media attention in the States or in Europe that able-bodied sports do. I think society is not able to accept it as real sport yet, but we’re getting there.”

Schrameyer smiles.

“I mean I’d like to make a little more money, but I’m not complaining. No way. That’s just the way things are. So don’t misunderstand. I’m really very happy about my situation.”

Sitting pretty, atop his chariot of desire.