8702010189 DETROIT FREE PRESS 870702 Thursday, July 02, 1987 STATE EDITION

SPT

1D MITCH ALBOM SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION PAGE 1D Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press THESE TEENAGERS TUNED IN TO A MUCH DIFFERENT WORLD WIMBLEDON, England -- In another world, they might be late for gym class, ditching the cigarets as they sneaked inside. "SABATINI?" the teacher would yell. "Here!" "GRAF?" "Here!" In another world they might tease their hair and wear Reebok sneakers that nobody paid them to endorse. And after school they would jump in the car and crank up the radio, and Sabatini, 17, would beg Graf, 18, to let her drive. "Don't tell my dad," Graf would say. "Cool," Sabatini would answer. In another world, at their ages, they might have been anywhere Wednesday -- school, the beach, the summer job at McDonald's. Instead they marched out to center court at Wimbledon, turned to the Royal Box, where Princess Diana was sitting, and did a little curtsy. Then they picked up the tennis rackets and began. This was the first note of a Wimbledon dance that may go on and on. The West German, the Argentinian. One blond, one brunet. One forehand specialist, one backhand bomber. Seventeen. Eighteen. And the key word is "teen". Where was the future of women's tennis? Right here, young enough to buy Beastie Boy albums. Who will we watch when Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova finally leave the game? Where is the next great women's tennis rivalry? Seventeen. Eighteen. Like, too cool. And there's more to come "Were you upset with losing to Steffi?" a reporter would ask Sabatini, the dark-haired one, after Graff defeated her in three sets, 4-6, 6-1, 6-1, to advance to the semifinals. "Yes," she said, in a soft, accented voice, "but I think we play many more matches, yes?" Many more. Yes. Already they have played eight times, Graf has won them all, but they have been close and closer. And Graf is a year older and a few levels more intense. "I know what she does better," said Sabatini, "but I think I will catch up." Haven't we see this before? Wasn't Evert the budding superstar when the younger Navratilova was coming up? Didn't they play doubles together for a while -- as do Graf and Sabatini now? Didn't they become the Betty and Veronica of tennis, destined to be featured in every adventure? "Can you see playing Gabriela for a long time?" Graf was asked. "Can you see being here 10 years from now and still playing her?" "Yes, I can see us like Chris and Martina in the future," she said. "I'm sure there will be other players coming up, but we understand each other, we speak and play doubles together. I think we will play a lot more." The crowd Wednesday saw them meet for the first time at this tournament, saw them exchange shots that looked too strong for any teenager -- male or female -- to produce. Forehand shots that were blurs. Serves that screamed. Seventeen? Eighteen? Well, remember, like Chris and Martina, these two are the best of their bracket. And, like Chris and Martina, they are as different as their homelands. Graf, from Bruhl, West Germany, is directed, totally tennis, the product of a domineering father who oversees every step of her career. She began, as a four year-old, by smacking balls over her living room couch. Today she is ranked No. 2 in the world, and success seems enough to replace the other attractions of teenagedom. Once, last winter, she tried a disco. The noise prompted her to call for a ride home. Sabatini, on the other hand, is more moody, occasionally distracted. She likes to sing, to play soccer, to ride around with her friends. Teenage stuff. Yet her raw talent is exciting enough for her to be shipped from her native Buenos Aires to live with coaches in the Miami area. She can sometimes tire too easily, but her long legs and wicked backhand make coaches drool over her potential. Last year, at 16, she reached the semifinals of Wimbledon before losing to Navratilova. Who writes the first book? So there they were, the best of the post-braces set, pushing each other through a round that would pay the winner over $10,000. And when they sat between sets, it was hard not to see the next three, five, even 10 years unfolding. What will the London tabloids be saying in 1997? That Sabatini was flitting about town, wearing leather pants? That Graf's marriage is in trouble, and she's been seeing Boris Becker? Who gets the Lipton commercials? Who wears the Timex watch? Who writes the first book, earns the first million, wins the first Grand Slam? Who? Or simply which one? Evert and Navratilova played Wednesday, but not on center court. That was reserved, for the blond and the brunet, who curtsied on the way out. They could have been anywhere, the car, the beach, the gym class, but they walked off together, holding their rackets and the future. Graf? Here. Sabatini? Here. They'll be answering the roll call for a while.