This Is Still the Age of Agassi and Graf

Tommie Haas. Natasha Zvereva. Those names mean anything to you?

Probably not, but Haas beat Andre Agassi in the second round of the 1998 Wimbledon tournament and Zvereva beat Steffi Graf in the fourth round. Zvereva, by the way, had never beaten Graf before, not in 20 tries.

Agassi was out of shape and out of sorts. He had no fire, seemed to have little desire. Graf was despondent, certain that her achy body, filled with pulls and sprains and fractures as it had been over the better part of two years, would never allow her to compete at a high level again.

And so we arrive at the Wimbledon finals, 1999 version. Agassi, 29 and with his receding hairline well-disguised by his shaved head, is spry as a puppy, hitting shots all over the place, shots of exquisite thought and monumental power, taking the ball from an opponent’s serve, pouncing on it, smashing it back before the server has even gotten his racket back.

Graf, 30, but not at all bald and with still the best ponytail this side of Mia Hamm, is leaping into that lovely forehand again, both feet off the ground as she takes aim on the ball, and her low, slicing backhand is fluttering as sweetly and crazily as a knuckleball, always floating, then dropping on some far baseline or sideline, well out of reach of any return shot.

You should know this because on this extra special Fourth of July version of Breakfast at Wimbledon, there will be two matches instead of one, rain having pushed back the women’s final a day to join the men’s championship match.

First Graf, a seven-time Wimbledon champion who last won here in 1996, will play Newport Beach’s gracious contribution to the pro tour, Lindsay Davenport.

Davenport, 23, has never won here, never gone further than the quarterfinals until this year and has been totally ignored this fortnight. She isn’t a beloved but aging veteran and she hasn’t brought along a mother who has verbally painted the women’s tour as racist and full of predatory lesbians (and this is the last time we will speak of Samantha Stevenson, publicity-loving journalist-mother of Davenport’s vanquished semifinal opponent, Alexandra Stevenson).

And again today, even if Davenport wins, she probably will be left feeling she is an afterthought because it is the redemptive stories of Graf and Agassi and also of the unexpected renewal of a rivalry that never gave us quite what we had hoped for.

For in the men’s final, Agassi will play Pete Sampras. Sampras has been stalled at 11 career Grand Slam titles since he won Wimbledon last July. This is important because Sampras, 27, has been expecting to tie Roy Emerson with 12 titles, most in history, and he also has been eager to pass Emerson. Sampras already has won five Wimbledon titles. It is his safe place. Centre Court has always been restorative to Sampras whenever he has arrived this decade after some horrifying experience on the slow clay of Roland Garros, where Sampras hasn’t won and probably won’t ever win.

In 1995, when Agassi beat Sampras in an emotional Australian Open final at the time when Sampras was learning his coach, Tim Gullikson, had brain cancer, and then Sampras beat Agassi in a U.S. Open final filled with incredible shot making, it seemed that Agassi and Sampras were poised to make tennis as popular as any sport with their rivalry.

Except that Agassi passed.

Stung by that U.S. Open loss, when Agassi had arrived in New York with a six-tournament winning streak and the belief that he had surpassed Sampras, Agassi seemed to give up. If Agassi wasn’t able to beat Sampras on the big occasion, when both had played their absolute best, it seemed Agassi didn’t care to try again.

Twenty-one months ago, Agassi was ranked 141st in the world and forced into playing in challenger tournaments, the events populated mostly by youngsters hoping to earn precious ATP points so they could get higher rankings and move into the big events. It was a joke to see Agassi, with a gut and without his superb court speed, chug around the court at these tiny tournaments. It was also sad.

“I don’t advise it to anybody, dropping to [141] in the world,” Agassi said after he had carved up Patrick Rafter, 7-5, 7-6 (7-5), 6-2, in the semifinals. “It’s a long way back.”

And while Graf never fell that low, she had spent more than a year on the sidelines watching youngsters like Martina Hingis start winning all the Slams and saying with disdain that it hardly mattered, Graf’s absence, because, after all, Graf’s finest days were long past.

What we’ve all discounted, though, in the rush to sweep away the remnants of Agassi and Graf, is that to become a champion there must be something special in the heart.

What is it? Love of competition? The need to be the best? Why, Graf was asked after she had not played at her very best but still well enough to conquer Mirjana Lucic, 6-7 (7-3), 6-4, 6-3, had she worked so hard to rehabilitate from a series of discouraging injuries to this point where she is beating these kids a decade younger?

“I guess it’s determination,” Graf said. “It’s the love to go out there and train hard. I have my lazy days. But maybe just a few less than the others have, I don’t know.”

“It’s about hard work and focus,” Agassi said. “Because the second that falls off, you know, you can’t get lucky enough to win. So it’s been a lot of hard work that’s taken a long time to start paying off.”

A year ago, after a slow and sloppy display of desultory tennis, Agassi slipped away from Wimbledon and everybody wondered if he’d ever be back. A year ago, after a stiff and tentative display at Wimbledon, everybody wondered if Graf would ever be back. Neither would say yes for sure. And we mean back in the draw, to play a match or two. Not back in the final, energized and energizing for the game that has struggled to keep America’s attention.

When Agassi and Graf won stunning titles at the French Open last month, it seemed a happy accident, a chance to say a fond farewell.

If both win today, it will mark the first time since 1925 that the same man and woman have won these Grand Slam titles back to back. Rene Lacoste and Suzanne Lenglen accomplished the feat 74 years ago.

“Who would have believed it a month ago,” Agassi said. He was speaking of his own results, but the same could be said about Graf. A 29-year-old and a 30-year-old with proud resumes and every reason to have left this frustrating, exhausting sport behind have instead given this sport a jump start. Next time a punk kid champion is ready to diss the veteran, maybe the kid should stop and think. Twenty-nine isn’t so old. Twenty-nine can be just fine. And 30 isn’t bad either.

Diane Pucin can be reached at her e-mail address: diane.pucin@latimes.com.