Pierce Title Gives a New Meaning to ‘Acceptance Speech’

Imagine the wall of sound if Amelie Mauresmo, Nathalie Tauziat or Sandrine Testud somehow won the French Open.

It wouldn’t set off an explosion of emotion and civic pride the way Yannick Noah’s 1983 victory or the French soccer team’s World Cup ’98 championship did, but you can certainly believe a Mauresmo title would have brought more noise than Mary Pierce’s did Saturday at Roland Garros. The Court Central crowd applauded but never erupted.

Did the anticlimactic tenor have something to do with Pierce’s methodical 6-2, 7-5 victory over Conchita Martinez? Or were some Parisians feeling a bit hypocritical if they went gaga over a Canadian-born, American-raised champion?

In her recent controversial book, “The Underside of Women’s Tennis,” Tauziat wrote that Pierce is “less and less French all the time.” Pierce may own a French passport, but her home address reads Bradenton, Fla., and her fiance is an American baseball player, Cleveland Indian second baseman Roberto Alomar.

So, is being French as much a state of mind as it is having a French relative? Funny, but you get the idea that it wouldn’t be such an issue in England if Canadian-born neo-Brit Greg Rusedski won Wimbledon. (Then again, the Brits are so much more desperate for a champion--any champion--than the French.)

Pierce reminded everyone that, yes, she is part French when she was asked about being accepted here.

“I never really paid attention to that, if I’m fitting in or if I’m accepted or not,” she said. “I know I personally tried to make an effort to be accepted.

“It was difficult for some people to accept me because I wasn’t born here and I don’t speak the language perfectly and I have a little accent. So some people were skeptical about that.

“It’s part of who I am. I am part French, you know.”

Francoise Durr, the last Frenchwoman before Pierce to win at Roland Garros, in 1967, talked about the problems Pierce has had fitting in, culturally and athletically. Pierce did not play Fed Cup this year and refused to discuss her future participation in that competition or the Sydney Olympics. “Mary sometimes didn’t feel very French because during dinners, sometimes she didn’t understand the jokes and sometimes she was speaking English,” Durr said.

It’s little wonder that Pierce talked about being so nervous before the 1994 French Open final, so concerned about the prospect of giving a speech in French that she could not sleep. Saturday, she appeared nervous when she spoke, almost whispering into the microphone, while making her victory speech.

Certainly, the relationship between Pierce and the French fans has been fractious. She was booed and jeered during lackluster efforts in losses to the likes of Magui Serna in 1998 and other second-tier players in years past. “You have to know how to use the public because a long time ago Mary didn’t know how to use the public,” Durr said. “She was making big gestures. The public was not able to understand her. Sometimes it was bad for her.

“A while ago she was doing a lot of mannerisms on the court. She had weird mannerisms. But today she was very simple on the court.”

To be fair, Pierce has hardly had an easy life, growing up with an abusive father who was her tennis coach. (They were estranged for years and only resumed practicing in the winter.)

As a youngster, she had that to deal with, her father as well as fitting into a new culture, caught between the United States and France. It was her father’s idea to pull her out of school in Florida when she was 13, bringing her to France to train with the support of the French federation.

“It wasn’t like I had much of a choice anyway,” she said. “I didn’t make any decisions. You don’t make decisions when you’re 13.”

Pierce sorely missed her friends and school back home in Florida. She found the early days in Paris quite difficult and draining.

“I actually lived here in Roland Garros for a short while when I practiced here,” Pierce said. “It was my first time being alone, really, because our family was always together, all the time, 24 hours. So I had a dorm room by myself. I couldn’t really speak French. I didn’t know anybody. I was by myself.

“It was really tough. I probably cried every night, trying to fall asleep. It was tough practicing.”

Pierce acknowledged that she has changed, and so has the public. Acceptance has been gradual, though it may never be complete, the way it is with the other French players.

“I think that it will always be the same,” Pierce said. “The reason I want to win this tournament so much is not to be accepted, it’s just because part of who I am is being French.”