disable drop cap

It's the first round of North America's biggest squash tournament, the U.S. Open, and Amr Shabana is dominating his opponent until the towering Belgian Stefan Casteleyn hits a wicked drop shot. Everyone in the audience thinks Casteleyn has finally fooled the savvy Egyptian, but Shabana slips in front of him and smashes a winner to the far corner. Casteleyn can't help but admire his adversary. "How did he sneak in there like that?" he asks the crowd.

You've probably never heard of Shabana, but he is one of the world's fittest, most skilled athletes. In Egypt he is a household name. "My mom was a national champion, and so was my older sister," he tells me outside the temporary glass court in New York's Roseland Ballroom, where the Open takes place, "so I grew up around the squash courts." Now it's Amr's turn: For nearly two years the 28-year-old has been the world's top-ranked squash player.

Many Americans think of squash—if they think of the game at all—as an effete version of racquetball played by pasty prep school students and doddering elitists. (Donald Rumsfeld plays it.) If you've tried it, however, and found yourself helplessly hacking at the back wall, you know that the game requires strength, endurance, flexibility, and strategic cunning. It ranks at the top of Forbes's 10 Healthiest Sports list and is more demanding on the cardiovascular system than tennis or swimming.

Today's game is markedly different from that played a dozen years ago. Health clubs have converted hardball courts (designed for an archaic American version of the sport) to standard international softball courts. Softball is easier to learn but more physically demanding. (Rumsfeld plays hardball.) The squishier ball is "dead," without much bounce, and long rallies are common; players must wear each other down and exploit their opponents' mistakes.

Squash was invented in English boarding schools in the mid-19th century and quickly spread to the colonies. Egypt produced some of the first great champions in the 1930s and '40s. After that, Pakistan took over, dominating the sport for decades. (Hoping to revive the dynasty, President Musharraf recently offered a 10-million-rupee prize—$165,000—to any Pakistani who made it to the top of the world rankings.) Now the sport has blossomed again in Cairo. Players who grew up during the presidency of squash-mad Hosni Mubarak have come of age, and Egypt boasts five of the top twenty players, including the top two, Shabana and the 20-year-old phenom Ramy Ashour. They are revolutionizing the sport.

"They can hit every shot in the book, and they make up new ones as they go along," said Sean Gibbon, the director of squash's U.S. Open. "They attack all the time." In the vein of Gretsky or Pelé, Shabana anticipates the game better than others. He stalks around the court like a silent cat and always seems to arrive ahead of the ball.