‘SSometimes tennis players have one thing where they can’t hit a ball over the net or nothing is right and you are mentally alone. I had one of those weeks when I was like, ‘If I were to leave tomorrow, I will be fine,’ “says Zina Garrison, laughing. Speaking 30 years after the start of his glorious 1990 Wimbledon race, Garrison’s enduring memory is simply from the previous week, when it didn’t seem possible.
Instead of retiring, he played the tournament of his life. Monica Seles made it to her quarterfinal in a 32-game winning streak, and defending champion Steffi Graf had reached a terrifying 13 consecutive slam final when they faced a round later. Both records have fallen.
Garrison crushed a winner by right on Seles’ meeting point before getting 10 points out of 12 to win 9-7 in the third set and then cut Graf with his fierce slice in three sets. He was the only player to beat the two unstoppable forces of the 90s in the same tournament.
As the world woke up to the sight of the first black woman in the Wimbledon final after Althea Gibson in 1958, tennis was only part of the reason why her success rang. An example: Garrison was 26 and had been one of the best players for eight years. Yet she has been the only one without clothing sponsors for much of her career.
In Wimbledon, Martina Navratilova had given away her clothes from her Nike line until Garrison signed a Reebok contract the night before Navratilova finished her run in the championship game with a 6-4, 6-1 win. It took her a Wimbledon final to earn the kind of deal that the minor players got immediately.
“For five years, even when I finished in the top four in the world, I haven’t had any agreements yet,” says Garrison. “I was very aware of what was going on and I was always told: ‘If you get to this ranking, you will get an agreement. If you can manage it [round],’ you know? You had white girls behind me, they are making a lot more money and their ranking or consistency wasn’t even there. “
Being a black player in the 80s meant this and more. For Garrison, he was constantly being described as the African-American player rather than one of many touring Americans. It was the agents who justified the lack of contracts by implying that he did not “look”.
Coco Gauff has only ever known a tennis world dominated by two black players and therefore speaks with his mind, but at the time it meant self-censorship in order not to attract too much attention. From a young age Garrison was taught by his coach, John Wilkerson, to make his racquet talk: “We can’t focus on what someone will give or won’t give us,” he says. “All we can do is be there for [so long] that you can’t deny it. “
Its success has been undeniable. He won a double gold medal with Pam Shriver and a single bronze at the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul. He ended his career with 14 single titles, 587 career wins and the distinction of having beaten all the legends of his time deep in the slam projects. In doubles, he reached two Australian Open women’s finals and won three mixed doubles titles.
However, Garrison’s relationship with his sport was always unstable. The pressure of being constantly compared to Gibson and the trauma of losing his mother was stifling. From the age of 19 to 28 he suffered from bulimia and it would take therapy later in his career to address these problems. Somehow, on the field he was still able to build an exemplary career.
“I don’t really know how,” he says. “When I look back, I have no idea. But I also looked back and thought about some games that I should have won and I didn’t have the energy to win.
“Now I can say it was probably because I was stinging and bleeding. And then, later, I discovered that it develops a chemical imbalance … so I constantly live with dehydration which I must be careful of. “
The killing of George Floyd and the widespread election campaign that followed gave Garrison the reason to reflect deeply on his experiences. In the past few weeks, USTA has been launched by former player Leslie Allen for its history. Garrison had a well publicized cause of racial discrimination which was resolved with the USTA in 2009 after claiming that as a Fed Cup captain a lower salary had been paid than Davis Cup coach Patrick McEnroe and his successor. , Mary Joe Fernández.
“I was told then: ‘It doesn’t really happen.’ Nobody would really back me up. People in the background were telling me stories but nobody was willing to come to the rescue. There were only two people at that time who were preparing for the recording and who were Billie Jean King and Venus Williams.
“It was difficult for me … The bottom line is that I wasn’t crazy. Things have improved, but sometimes people have the wrong idea because you have a couple of better black players and they say, “Well, it’s not bad, look at Venus and Serena.” Just because you have a couple that has been fixed. “
During the blockade, Garrison hosted his Game Set Chat show with ex-player Chanda Rubin, interviewing characters like Billie Jean King with Frances Tiafoe. During a city hall discussion of protests across the country, Garrison stressed the need for athletes to speak to educate themselves and the benefits of anger seen in the protests that swept the United States and the world.
“When I say not to keep peace, I don’t want the world to be destroyed, but I mean we have to keep that pressure. For example, we had a boycott of Montgomery buses [after the arrest of Rosa Parks in 1955]. Most people don’t realize that it would go on for about a year. It didn’t happen overnight. We have to keep the pressure because what some people want us to do is start forgetting about it so that they can get back to a sense of normalcy. “
Tennis was a focal point in Garrison’s life. For 28 years he owned an academy in Houston, where he helps young players, especially those from ethnic minorities, to undertake this sport.
In 2017, his life was turned upside down by Hurricane Harvey as he fled the wreckage of his home with his Olympic medals and little else. She didn’t realize how badly affected she was until she established the priority of her pupils over her own well-being.
“One of my cousins, who is a therapist, was like: ‘Zina you have DPTS.’ I was like, “No, no, no.” I followed his advice and eventually started to admit: ‘Wow, I just lost everything. I have my life, but to put it back, I have to get back first.’
“My first thought when Harvey happened was: ‘Let’s take nets and take them to the shelter so they can at least play.’ That’s what I did. One of my granddaughters was crying, she said, “Aunt Zina, you’re helping all these other people and you’ve lost everything.” At that moment I was like: ‘Wow, ok.’ “
It is only fair that she should focus more on herself these days, since her help has been enough. Today, when Gauff and Naomi Osaka speak from their hearts, they are standing on the shoulders of players like Gibson, Allen, Lori McNeil, Rubin, the sisters Williams and Garrison. Players who were strong enough to break down barriers even when it didn’t seem possible.
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