The story of Goran Ivanisevic's three Wimbledon final losses — to Agassi in 1992, Sampras in 1994, Sampras again in 1998 — and the weight they placed on everything that came after.
Before the tears on Centre Court in July 2001, before the collapse to the grass and the explosion of a nation in Split harbour, there was the weight of three defeats. Three Wimbledon finals. Three times Goran Ivanisevic walked to the net as the runner-up. Each one left a mark. Together, they shaped one of the most emotionally complex stories in sports.
Goran Ivanisevic arrived at the 1992 Wimbledon final as the favourite. He was twenty years old, ranked eighth in the world, and the tournament's most dangerous server. His opponent, Andre Agassi, was seeded twelfth and widely considered the underdog. On paper, this was Goran's title to lose.
He very nearly won it. He served 37 aces — a figure that remains one of the highest single-match totals in Grand Slam final history. He took the match to five sets. He held his nerve through the long middle sets and had the crowd behind him. But when it mattered most, in the fifth set, Agassi found a way through.
The match turned on returns. Agassi, one of the game's greatest returners, began reading the serve in the final set — not returning everything cleanly, but getting enough back to keep rallies alive, to give Ivanisevic more chances to make errors. Goran's forehand, never his most reliable shot under pressure, began to fail him. Agassi won 6–4 in the fifth.
Ivanisevic was gracious in defeat. He was twenty. People told him there would be more chances. They were right about the chances. They were not right about how easy those chances would be to take.
I played good tennis. He played better. I will come back.
What the 1992 defeat established was a pattern. Ivanisevic's serve could dominate any player in the world, but there were opponents — particularly those with exceptional returns and solid ground games — who could weather it and then punish his errors elsewhere. Agassi had shown the blueprint. Pete Sampras would refine it over the next six years.
By 1994, Goran Ivanisevic was at the absolute peak of his career. He was ranked world No. 2 — the highest of his career, achieved that very month. He was twenty-two years old, healthy, serving better than ever, and had the experience of the 1992 final behind him. If there was ever a year he was going to win Wimbledon, this was it.
His opponent in the final was Pete Sampras, the world No. 1. Their rivalry was already defined: Sampras was the superior all-round player; Ivanisevic was the greater grass-court threat based on his serve alone. The match promised to be the definitive clash of the era's two best grass-court performers.
The first set went to a tiebreak. Ivanisevic was ahead in it. Sampras pulled it back. 7–6 to the American. The second set: another tiebreak. Again Goran was close. Again Sampras found a way through. Two tiebreaks. Two sets to Sampras. The crowd sensed something.
Then came the third set. And Goran collapsed.
It lasted approximately twenty-two minutes. Sampras won it 6–0. Eighteen points to Ivanisevic's six. Double faults. Unforced errors. Volleys into the net. Ivanisevic visibly deflated — his shoulders dropping, his head shaking — while Sampras played the finest tennis of the match. The final score was 7–6, 7–6, 6–0.
The 6–0 third set became infamous. Not because it was unprecedented — players collapse in Grand Slam finals — but because of the contrast with what came before. For two sets, Ivanisevic had matched the best player in the world point for point. Then it was over in twenty minutes. The mental fragility that would define his career — the switch from "Good Goran" to "Bad Goran" — was never more starkly on display.
In the third set I just fell apart. Completely. I don't know what happened. He was incredible and I was... nothing.
This defeat hurt more than 1992. In 1992, he was twenty and learning. In 1994, he was at his peak, with experience, with the world's second-best ranking, and he had still failed to hold his nerve when it mattered most. The question of whether he could ever win the big match began to follow him.
The intervening years had not been kind. Shoulder injuries had begun to limit his schedule and erode his ranking. He had not reached a Grand Slam final since 1994. Many believed his best days were behind him. Then, in the summer of 1998, he put it all together one more time and reached his third Wimbledon final.
His run to the final had been his most dominant at the tournament: he had reached it without dropping a set, which was remarkable for a player of his ranking and physical condition. He was serving as well as at any point in his career. And his opponent, once again, was Sampras.
The first set went to a tiebreak. Ivanisevic led. Sampras took it 7–2. Everything went wrong in the second set: Goran fell apart, 0–6, not quite as catastrophic as 1994's third set but close. At two sets down against Sampras at Wimbledon, the match was effectively over.
Goran won the third set 6–3 — pride, momentum, one final push. But Sampras closed it out in the fourth, 6–2. Final score: 6–7, 0–6, 6–3, 2–6.
Three finals. Three defeats. The narrative had hardened: Ivanisevic was a great player, perhaps one of the greatest grass-court servers of all time, but he could not win the big match. He was the perennial bridesmaid at the tournament that suited him best. Every conversation about him in 1998 and 1999 carried this weight.
Three times I am at the final. Three times I lose. Maybe I am not meant to win this. Maybe I have to accept this.
What happened over the next three years — the shoulder deterioration, the ranking collapse to No. 125, the wildcard debate, the eventual triumph in 2001 — was impossible to imagine standing on Centre Court in 1998. The defeat that year felt like the end of the story. Instead, it was the prelude to its most extraordinary chapter.