PART I ON THE ROAD

Auckland, New Zealand

A Qantas 747 airliner sets tire marks on the Auckland airport runway. Sweat is dripping from my forehead. I have both a backache and headache. For the past 14 hours after leaving Los Angeles International Airport — 14 hours in a machine 30,000 feet above a deep blue sea — I've been crammed into a coach seat. Now I've finally arrived in New Zealand, my eleventh trip to this part of the Pacific.

This is crazy. I'm restless, anxious, barely self-contained as I realize how far I have just traveled to play in a tennis competition. When you're on the tour for 12 years, more than occasionally you have what can only be characterized as Trips from Hell. I had occupied the last seat on the plane, 72H, and it didn't even fully recline. I felt like a packed sardine, knees to my chest, no elbow room, limited food and drink offerings. When we finally landed, I was dehydrated and delirious. This is just two days after I'd celebrated New Year's in L.A. with friends and family, making this trip more sentimental and emotional than most.

Spadea arriving in New Zealand, on New Year's I was dancing on the ceiling, now I'm squealing, appealing, praying and kneeling, but 2005 has begun, Vince gotta continue the run, gonna have more fun than when I turned 21.

This is the unglamorous side of a tennis professional's life. The travel is one of the main reasons you see so few players over 30 years old on the tour these days. When players start thinking of retirement, especially champions like Sampras and Pat Rafter, who have earned more money and glory than they could expect in ten lifetimes, it's the excessive travel that curtails their careers more than anything else. The time spent in airports, on planes, in taxis — and the delays of missing luggage and drivers who get lost on the way to the tournament hotel or courts — wears on one's stamina and patience. Björn Borg retired for the first time at 25; Sampras retired for good at the "old" age of 31, and Rafter, at 29.

This life of being constantly on the road, away from family and friends for ten months of the year — that's right, ten months is the length of one pro tennis season — gets to you every now and then. It's getting to me right now, and I'm preparing to play just my first tournament of the season. I'd played my last tournament of 2004 at the end of October, and then I was on the American Davis Cup team that played the finals into December in Spain. So I'd had less than one month of an off-season — if you can call practicing twice a day for two of those weeks and working out every day in the gym downtime.

Okay, so you're thinking, "What a spoiled brat this guy is. He gets to fly to New Zealand and Australia to play tennis, and he's complaining about it." But what some of you might not realize is that there's a major difference between taking a relaxing vacation and traveling to "go to work." This journey is costing me around $7,000 in airplane tickets, hotel rooms, and coaching fees for three weeks in which I will play two tournaments, one here in New Zealand, and then the big one in Australia, the first Grand Slam of 2005, the Australian Open. Usually, I also play the tournament in Adelaide before Auckland, but this year, because of my short off-season, I decided to skip that one.

I've made this exact trip 11 times now — no questions asked — having missed it only in 1993 when I was just starting out on tour, and in 1997 because I had a back injury. In 2002, I made the trip Down Under, but my slump had dropped my ranking so low I had to try to qualify for the Australian Open. After I lost in the qualies, I flew to play a lower-level pro tournament called a Challenger in Hawaii, where I beat Michael Chang in the quarters. It was my first win over the former No. 2 player in the world in five matches, and I never played him again because he retired in 2003.

Once I get here, there's not a lot of time to sightsee. It's just basically back-and-forth shuttles between the hotel and tennis courts. It'll be that way in every city I play in now for the next 40-plus weeks, in cities ranging from Indianapolis to Tokyo. Believe me, this isn't exactly the trip to New Zealand you'd want to win on The Price Is Right. At this point, I certainly would have chosen the other showcase, the one with the new car. But I just read a mission trip to Mars on a space shuttle would take at least six months, so enough with the crying.

The good news is that I'm here and I want to be here. It's a new year to pursue my 2005 goals of making a surge into the Top 15 players ranked in the world. I'm setting new sights, trying to move into uncharted territory for myself. The Top 20 is the best I've ever achieved — I'm No. 19 right now — but I'm looking forward to moving up and making an impact in the Grand Slams, possibly making the semis or the finals of one or two, and make people wonder, "Can you believe this kid from the dirty south of Florida? Who's had such a roller-coaster ride both physically and mentally? He went into this tennis season and would not go away. Spadea is not dying, he's not fading; he's getting stronger as he gets older. How does this guy do it?"

I'm starting out in the Kiwi nation, the city of Auckland to be exact, a wonderful, cosmopolitan capital city. I'm greeted A-list style, by a chauffeur carrying a sign that reads, "Spada." Okay, missed it by one vowel, but at least I got the driver, right? My new coach — there will be plenty of time to talk about coaches later, because I've had about 30 since my father, Vincent Sr., stopped being my coach about five years ago — is Greg Hill, one of Nick Bollettieri's main men. Greg played on the pro tour for a four-year stretch in the mid-1980s, and his claim to fame is that he beat Agassi when Andre was, like, 16 and first coming up.

Greg and I get situated in the picturesque tournament hotel, just minutes away from the beautiful Viaduct Harbour, which was home to the 2003 America's Cup. From my room, there are fantastic views of the water, yachts, and islands nearby. Dozens of hip bars and restaurants line the water-front, and crowds pace through the area even as the notorious winds and occasional showers blow and drip.

But I'm not here to get too comfortable. I take a short two-hour snooze and then we set out for the courts. How do you make it to the semifinals of the Australian Open? Practice my friend, practice! Except my right shoulder is sore — I played 80 matches the previous season, including doubles, and I might have overdone it, so I can't hit for too long.

JANUARY 11

The Auckland Open is a cozy, well-run, fun tournament to start the year off. I'm still having mixed feelings being here because of the short off-season. In one respect, I'm confident and eager to continue my run up the rankings — in 2004 I rose from No. 29 to No. 19 in the world — and I want to pursue new and heightened goals. I'd worked hard on and off the court in November and December, improving tennis techniques, quickness, fitness, nutrition, and mental conditioning. But on the other hand, the last tournament of 2004 ended on November 7th, and here I was back in full blast mode on the 6th of January. I would have liked to have another month off.

Three years...