The tournament was her first true competition since the match on April 30, 1993, in Hamburg, Germany, when a misguided soul with a nine-inch serrated kitchen knife tried to put an end to her career and her life. For four years she had been the star attraction on the women’s tour, squashing the competition and making headlines with her fashion sense and mercurial personality. When she fell, the popularity of the tour fell with her. Now she was trying to come all the way back from the “dark tunnel” she feared she would never put behind her. She was a little taller now, nearly a full six feet, and a little self-conscious about her rummy. “That’s all the bagels and pasta,” she said. “In my sadness I substituted food. I didn’t eat bad, just lots.” In this warm-up for the U.S. Open, which heats up this week in New York, she cut through her opponents like she’d never missed a match; by the middle of the tournament, even her grunt had returned.

But off the court, Seles’s life had changed. She traveled with a bodyguard now. Notorious for her glamorous style and designer outfits, she relaxed in Toronto in floppy T shirts and ball caps, unconcerned about her sweaty face or hair, a mess of stringy ringlets. “I still like to shop,” she admitted, “but it’s mostly just window-shopping now.” As she talked between matches, it was easy to forget she was still only 21. “Everything was so dark for a long time,” she said. “I thought about how lucky I was the knife wasn’t an inch over into my spine.

“When I looked at it that way, I said, ‘Monica, you’ve had such a great career already.’ But everything happened so young that maybe I didn’t appreciate it enough. Looking back, I also thought of all the tournaments I played: how many did I really enjoy, how many did I have strong memories of? And there weren’t that many. I wanted to change that. When I came back, I wanted to make sure I had more fun. Just be grateful, do the best I can and enjoy myself.” In the matches in Toronto, in fact, as one-sided as they were, sometimes Seles would miss a return here, over slug a ground stroke there. “I’d say to myself, ‘Monica, loosen up. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” But occasionally the stabbing episode in Hamburg would still rear up. “On long points I start thinking,” she said. “There are flashbacks. I backtrack. Then I tell myself, ‘You can’t do this. You’re in a match. Just go out and play great tennis’.”

‘Drama queen’: For the troubled sport of women’s tennis, Seles’s return is a godsend. Ever since she upset Chris Evert in just the second tournament in her career in 1989, and two years later became the youngest top-rated player of all time, Seles had been the circuit’s most magnetic star. By the age of 19, she had won eight Grand Slams and was pulling away from her nearest rival, Steffi Graf (chart). Beyond her talent, she brought an iconoclastic ebullience and a theatrical air to a game that was becoming blandly proficient. She would throw roses to the crowd, or disguise herself under gaudy hats and wigs. One year she skipped Wimbledon without explanation, disappearing amid rumors she was pregnant by Donald Trump. Donald Trump? “Bigger than life,” says broadcaster Mary Carillo. “She always understood how to make things operatic. Which is just what the tour needed.” Her peers sometimes resented the show. Evert called Seles a “drama queen.” Martina Navratilova mocked her for not wearing a bra and said her on-court grunting “sounded like a stuck pig.” But when Seles disappeared from the circuit, women’s tennis decidedly lost some of its savor.

In injured exile, Seles deliberately upstaged her peers on several occasions. She showed up at the ‘93 U.S. Open on “Arthur Ashe Day.” She announced her exhibition comeback – a match with Navratilova in Atlantic City–during the women’s quarter-finals at this year’s French Open and her tournament comeback on the day of the women’s final at Wimbledon. “She’s still got the diva deal going,” says Carillo. “How can the women not feel resentment?” On her return, some players were outraged that without having competed for more than two years, she was immediately ranked co-No. 1, alongside Graf. Seles simply dismissed the controversy. “I didn’t care,” she says. “If I’m good enough, I’ll be there.” By the time she’d made fast work of her opponents in Toronto-Graf was upset by the unseeded Amanda Coetzer in the first round–the question was academic. The champion, and the charisma she brought to the tour, was back. Graf, who greeted her with a heartfelt hug, was not surprised by Seles’s ferocious form. “Monica does not return,” she said, “unless she’s fit and ready.”

For Seles, the tournament victory was a big step in what has been a two-year ordeal, both physical and mental. The actual injury from the knife wound was minor, but the assault damaged her psyche. She gradually worked her body back into shape under the guidance of Bob Kersee (the renowned track coach and husband of Jackie Joyner-Kersee) and sought treatment from psychologist Jerry R. May for posttraumatic stress disorder. Shrink talk now pops up regularly in her conversation; May was among her entourage in Toronto. She took French lessons, learned to play the guitar, took up pool and–after eight years of living in Florida with her parents, ethnic Hungarians from Serbia–she finally became a U.S. citizen. On the exam, she says, she was asked to name the youngest U.S. president. “I told this lady that wasn’t on the questions they gave us. She said it didn’t matter; she was asking me anyway.” She took a pass (the answer is Teddy Roosevelt).

The works: While she could not bring herself to watch the Grand Slam tournaments, “she knew what was happening on tour,” says Betsy Nagelson, the $9-year-old former pro player who has become her best friend. “Monica knew her tennis would stand up. She knows how good she is.” Last March Seles called a meeting with her manager, Mark McCormack, who is also Nagelson’s husband. “I want to play again,” she said simply. They discussed tournament scheduling, appearances, security, hitting partners, doctors, media access, contracts, endorsements, the works. Seles switched her allegiance from Fila to Nike, signing for a reported five years and $15 million. “I fit Nike. Nike is fun,” she says. With Nagelson, she also began weekly visits to the battered teens and runaways at the House of Hope shelter in Orlando, Fla., drawing on their courage and toughness. At the Special Olympics in New Haven, Conn., she took still more inspiration from the athletes who “seem to have more fun than any tennis pros even after they win a match.”

As she faces the U.S. Open this week, and the possibility of a showdown with Graf, Seles wants to keep alive some of that fun for herself. She’s bigger and stronger now, but a step slower than she was two years ago. She’s always had powerful strokes; now her serve is a true weapon. “This is the toughest athlete I’ve ever known,” says McCormack, who has represented Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Joe Montana and Wayne Gretsky. And she knows the horrors of the world firsthand. The other day she and Nagelson went to see “Kids,” the gut-churning film about modern urban teenagers. As they left the theater, Nagelson turned to Seles. “Oh, my God,” Nagelson said. “I wanted to leave. That’s just not reality.” Yes,” Seles answered. “That’s just what it is.” The best female tennis player in the world had finished her own journey to hell and back. Monica Seles knows reality.

Before her stabbing, Monica Seles ruled the court. Then, Steffi Graf and others seized her crown. 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 Australian Open b a a a b[] French Open a a a b[] c[] Wimbleton c b b b[] c[] U.S. Open c a a b[] c[] Virginia Slims a a a b[] c[*]

a Sales wins

b Graf wins

c Other

  • Sales Out

SOURCE: 1995 INFORMATION PLEASE SPORTS ALMANAC