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6/15/2004 "For
Kerri and Misty, it wasn't about the Streak" by
Ed Graney of the San Diego Union Tribune
The loss alone is a major upset. The fact that it didn't come in a
championship match is more so. Try astounding. Misty May and Kerri Walsh play
beach volleyball for a living and it's difficult to convey just how
dominant they have been the past 12 months. In a profession in which
athletes have been known to sever longstanding partnerships via the
coldness of an answering machine, May and Walsh have in a short time
created a camaraderie (not to mention standard of excellence) that has
proved nearly impossible for others to reach. "The men's game has much
more parity," says Dane Selznick, coach of the May-Walsh duo.
"On any given weekend, 8-12 teams could win a 32-team tournament.
On the women's side, one team can win. In my mind, everyone else is
playing for second. I keep waiting for the competition to get better and
have some teams press us." Three days after he uttered those
words, one finally did. Annett Davis and Jenny Johnson
Jordan defeated May-Walsh 21-19, 21-19 in a semifinal of the AVP
Manhattan Beach Open on Sunday, ending the team's winning streak at 88
matches, spanning 15 tournaments and one year. "It was an unbelievable
thing Misty and I accomplished," said Walsh. "We know that
every time we step on the court, we play against some unbelievable
athletes. We never take anything for granted. That's life. That's
sports. Hopefully, we'll start it back up again." They will attempt to do so at the
San Diego Open, which runs tomorrow through Sunday at Mariners Point.
The annals of team sport offer some memorable and imposing winning
streaks (Oklahoma football of the 1950s, UCLA basketball of the 1960s
and '70s, to name two) and each has its own special story. So, too, does 88 straight on the
beach. The journey actually commenced
during a function sponsored by AT&T at the 2000 Olympics in Sydney.
That night, two sets of volleyball parents began talking while munching
free food and following the Games on countless televisions. At the time, Walsh was a member
of the national indoor team that would lose the bronze-medal match to
Brazil. May was in her first season on the beach and teaming with legend
Holly McPeak to finish fifth on the Sydney sand. But the pressures and
expectations of competing with a player of McPeak's stature so early in
her beach career caused May to seek a new, less experienced partner. So
parents chatted and food was consumed and e-mails were exchanged and a
dynasty was born. "I really just wanted to
take a step back, learn the beach game at a slower pace and be able to
make mistakes," said May, who led Long Beach State to the 1998
national championship. "I didn't want to always have to worry about
playing perfectly." Says McPeak, who after teaming
with Elaine Youngs to win the Manhattan event is now the women's
all-time leader with 68 career victories: "It was stressful for
Misty. She was under the gun from the beginning as we were trying to
qualify for the Olympics. I was a little surprised by our split. I
really didn't even know it was happening. But that's part of the
business. "Misty and Kerri really have
no weaknesses. They can put a ton of pressure on other teams. I think
Misty is more mature about handling (pressure) better now. She is more
equipped to deal with it. And anyone who ever saw Kerri Walsh play
indoors knew she would make an amazing transition to the beach. She is
an exceptional athlete." How exceptional? Consider: Walsh departed Stanford
as one of only two players to be named first-team All-America all four
years and was the first Pac-10 player to record 1,500 career kills,
1,200 digs and 500 blocks. She also directed the Cardinal to a national
title in 1997 and her team lost to May and the 49ers in that '98 final. But even though Walsh grew up
close to the surf of Santa Cruz, she never ventured outside the gym to
display her skills. Never – not once – did she cross the line
between hardwood and sand. "I never stepped foot on the
beach to play because I didn't want to look like an idiot, and at first
I did," said Walsh. "To be successful on the beach, you
basically need a lot of patience. I didn't have that initially." And today, not three full seasons
after making the switch? "Kerri is the best player in
the world," said Selznick. "She is the fastest player on the
beach. She is like a racehorse out there. She can (hit) over any block
in the world. She's like a guy playing on the women's net." May is 26 and Walsh is 25 and
they are so good because they are so versatile. They don't have to
distinguish between blocker and digger. They are fast enough and strong
enough and smart enough to use what is now a smaller court to their
advantage. They have blended two quiet personalities off the beach into
terrific communicators on it, players who often don't need words to
relay strategy. They understand timing, that wind
can play more tricks on one serve than an hour of amateur magic. They
understand fitness, that if you haven't built enough strength in your
sand legs, a ball that is one foot away might as well be a mile. They
understand theirs is a sport with a checkered past in terms of financial
and fan support, that when you win 88 straight matches and 15 straight
tournaments, people will expect you to promote the game to an extent
others possibly can't. They are united in one goal,
conceived upon forming this prodigious tandem: "Win the gold medal
in Athens," said Walsh. "For us, the Olympics are the pinnacle
of our sport." Even greater, yes, than an
88-match winning streak. This was May just days before it
ended: "To be honest with you, I
have no idea what number we're even at. We don't think about it. If we
lose, it's not going to be like, 'Oh no, a streak is over, my life is
ruined.' You win some. You lose some. You learn about yourself and life
as you go. I couldn't tell you anything about where the (streak) might
rank in (sports history). It's never been about that for us." Which is why, perhaps, it lasted
so long. |
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