The Impact of Anna Kournikova, 1997-2002, and Beyond...

Bill Simmons writes here in his last pre-Super Bowl 41 column from Miami about the impact of Anna Kournikova on the athletic world and the worlds of millions of young men during the rise and fall of her tennis career. Seriously, she was the total package, looks, talent, and the attitude of the female Terminatrix from "Terminator 3"...or at least she was until she topped out talent-wise and began to care more about the paparazzi, dating celebrities, and multi-million dollar endorsement deals from companies that didn't care whether she ever won another tennis match. Who knows how good she could have been on the tennis court if that had been her focus, but for a short time, she was a force of nature.

"This was the same summer (1997) that a smoking-hot tennis star named Anna Kournikova started wreaking havoc, and since the Internet was just starting to round into shape, she was only resonating through some magazine photos and giddy conversations that guys had with their friends. There hasn't been anything quite like her before or since: a blonde, bosomy Russian with killer legs and a perpetual pout. She was prettier than most supermodels. She was sexier than most Hollywood stars. When she played Amanda Coetzer in the Australian Open that year, it was probably the greatest 20-second highlight in SportsCenter history, replete with reverential silence from the anchors. They could have released that highlight on DVD by itself and people would have bought it. Unfortunately (and this is an especially big "unfortunately"), Anna may have looked 25, but she didn't turn 16 until June 7.

And then something magical happened: Wimbledon rolled around and Anna played the best tennis of her life, somehow making it all the way to the semifinals. ... It seemed too good to be true. Unfathomable, even. Could we really spend the next 10-12 years watching Anna covered in her own sweat, bouncing around in tight tennis outfits and demolishing everyone in her path? Were we headed for a world where somebody who looked like this would win major after major, become the Tiger of tennis, appear on television 50-60 times per year and transform every red-blooded male into a diehard tennis fan? Could this actually HAPPEN?

Nope. Didn't happen. As it turned out, Anna Kournikova just wasn't that good. ...

During that time, she also shattered Mariah Carey's record for "most girls that have ever hated another girl for no real reason." If you brought up her name in a mixed group, the claws would come flying out. Every other female loathed her, instinctively, habitually. And if you asked them why, the reasons were always petty and unsubstantiated. Stuff like, "She just doesn't seem like a nice person to me," or "She's more concerned with how she looks than how she plays" or even "I just don't like the look on her face." The only thing that came close to watching Kournikova play tennis was watching other women openly seethe about her success. To them, she was like one of those evil movie characters in a John Hughes movie who runs the whole high school, flirts with everyone else's boyfriend and makes those cutting backhanded compliments to other girls like "I'm glad you finally did something about your hair." And frankly, this made the Kournikova Era even more magical than it already was. ...

And honestly? I can't remember the last time I thought about her or heard her name mentioned. You could even make the case that she's irrelevant, except for one thing: She had an enormous and underrated impact on the sports world from 1997 to 2002, only it's never been properly understood or appreciated. ... So we're hanging out in Shelley's Lounge and who walks in? Anna Kournikova and Enrique Iglesias.

In case you haven't seen her, she's disgustingly thin now -- still pretty, but more like a supermodel, and you would never know that she once played a professional sport. But still, it's Anna Kournikova, for God's sake! And here's where Jamie becomes relevant to this story. First of all, in the Pantheon of Faces, Jamie's "I'm standing three feet away from Anna Kournikova" Face will never, ever, EVER be topped. I am not a good enough writer to describe it. Joyce or Tolstoy couldn't have described it. And second, as Jamie explained to us later, not only did he play high school tennis in Massachusetts during the same year that Frank Deford wrote the feature that influenced so many high school and college students across America, the team actually brought that issue on the van for every one of their its matches. Why? you ask. Partly as a good-luck charm, partly as reliably good reading fodder for any trip. The team never knew when it would get bored on the van and want to start poring through Kournikova pictures again. For whatever reason, I never properly appreciated the Kournikova Era until she walked into Shelley's Lounge, saw Jamie's reaction and heard the story about his tennis team. Maybe she was overrated as a tennis player, but has an athlete ever had a bigger impact over a short span that couldn't be calibrated in any way, shape or form other than the look on somebody's face when they enter the room? I say no. ...

As halftime of the Heat-Cavaliers game was approaching, I glanced over at Jamie and saw his wheels turning. More Kournikova. More Kournikova. So I threw him a bone and said, "Hey, wanna go back to the lounge at halftime?" followed by Jamie answering "yes" even as I was still finishing the word "halftime."

We headed back there, walked underneath the stadium and passed through a bar to get to the lounge .. and suddenly, there were Enrique and Anna again. She was standing with her back to the wall, Enrique was in front of her, and she had her arms wrapped around him, only she was watching us walk by her and relishing the attention because he couldn't see where she was looking. At this point, Jamie was moving at the speed of the people in "War of the Worlds" coming out of their houses to stare at the giant UFO -- it's amazing he didn't walk into a chair or a table. I played it a little differently, glancing at her quickly, waiting for her to make eye contact, then glancing away like I wasn't impressed, hoping it would piss her off (like she would give a crap). We headed into the lounge to throw some water on Jamie, and not even a minute later, they were standing right behind us again and she was defiantly making eye contact -- almost like a Fembot, like she was thinking, "I'm Anna Kournikova, if you don't look impressed within the next three seconds, I'm going to shoot you with my jublees."

And for the first time, everything about the Kournikova Era fell into place. She just wanted to be noticed, even if she had to settle for two random dudes in the VIP lounge of a regular-season NBA game. Did she ever care about tennis? Probably not. Did she use tennis as a vehicle to dress in skimpy outfits and wrap every red-blooded male around her finger? Probably.

Anyway, it worked. I melted into a puddle and Jamie stopped breathing and briefly died. They pranced by us as Jamie immediately re-evaluated his life and everything that's ever happened in it, eventually deciding that this was his greatest moment since the Red Sox won the World Series. Anyone who says Anna Kournikova's tennis career didn't matter is just plain lying. She DID have an impact. Only a handful of athletes and former athletes can still stop a room in its tracks. She's one of them.

"When you were sitting in that tennis van 10 years ago," I asked him, "did you ever imagine that you'd be drinking three feet away from Kournikova?"

"No," Jamie said. "No. Never. I never would have believed it."