The Mary Pierce case highlights the blurred professional and private relationship between a female athlete and her father as the coach.
Before Pierce became a top prospect on the women's tour, she was overshadowed by another remarkably-talented phenom--Jennifer Capriati.
Growing up in south Florida, Capriati's quest began under the tutelage of another well-known tennis father, Jimmy Evert, father of Chris Evert.
From the time that Capriati first stepped into the arena, she was compared with her coach's famous daughter. Even as a young tyke, Capriati sported the same clothing brand and racquet manufacturer as Evert.
Coming onto the professional tennis scene at age 13, hounded by agents, multi-million dollar contracts and the press, Capriati was an accident waiting to happen. Before she turned professional, many people feared that she would burnout at a young age.
But Capriati's young and cheerful demeanor helped silence the critics. A child as buoyant and free-loving as Capriati could never get sick of her favorite pastime.
Or so they thought. When she was arrested on a drug possession charge last year, many people could not understand how this could have happened. After living in the limelight and constantly receiving public appraisal, how could this not have happened?
Virtually form the minute Capriati emerged from her crib, her father thrust the tennis racquet into her hand, ready to take both his daughter and himself step-by-step down the road to fame and fortune. As a famous child, Capriati seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Yet one day, the fun and frolic of fame was likely to transform itself into a deeper commitment to her full-time job.
Employed at age 13 and fully responsible for her family finances, Capriati was just waiting to crack. And she finally did.
Pierce and Capriati are the two most prominent cases of the overbearing tennis father syndrome. But they are far from alone.
Our society constantly preaches the grandness and prestige of fame and fortune. Because of this stigma, those who have exceptional talents instinctively follow a clearly-marked, paved road. But the road is not well-lit.
For women tennis players, the bumps and potholes which occur along the road to stardom often involve male dominance over the athlete.
In the end, Mary Pierce and Jennifer Capriati may become legends of the game. But the fact of the matter is that from the beginning, these women were not free. They were programmed every step of the way, with their fathers more intent on grabbing fame than they were.
At some point, society must stop this process of abuse. Until this year, the Women's Tennis Association has been lenient about allowing 14 year old girls to turn pro.
After Capriati's downfall, conversations concerning the appropriate age for a young woman to expose herself to the world of professional tennis became commonplace. And although now the age restrictions are becoming more rigid, another prodigy, reminiscent of Capriati, was allowed to play in her first professional tournament this year, upon turning fourteen.
Venus Williams's entrance onto the professional tennis scene was highlighted by the remarkable fact that she had not competed in any junior events before turning professional. Regardless of the recent shock surrounding the Capriati case, Williams, with her father at her side, entered the scene.
Williams, like Capriati, entered with a fresh and bubbling face, bursting with talent and promise. After competing valiantly and winning matches in her debut, Williams assured the press that there was no danger of Capriati Syndrome.
The press, the fans and the world looked on in excitement at the potential rise of this new star. But the future is not in Williams's hands. The cycle is starting all over again.
By putting too much emphasis on success and stardom, we are all guilty.