Andre Agony

I've always been more of a "Pistol Pete" guy really. When I first started watching tennis, my casual fandom resembled the Catholic guy who only shows up in church for Christmas and Easter. I would tune in for the four major weekends a year, but really nothing more. All the "niche" sports suffer from this same selected interest disease. Most sports fans get ramped up for the Olympics, but understandably don't tune in for the finals of the 100M dash at the Eugene Oregon Trials or a Grand Prix figure skating event in Stockholm. Ratings for any golf tournament plummet when Tiger isn't on the prowl on Sunday (Angel Cabrera, Stewart Cink, Lucas Glover....WHO?!?) and horse racing only gets viewers for six minutes a year. What can save any individual or "niche" sport is a great rivalry. It is wonderful to watch two individuals who are both so physically gifted, their status as outliers can only be de-railed by their counterpart. As spectators, we love to see the epic battles between the ropes of competition, but their personality differences, subtle media jabs, and respectful disdain for each other are all just as compelling as any five-set match. Ali-Frazier, Jack and Arnie, Bird vs. Magic, The Beatles and The Stones, Superman-Batman, Coke or Pepsi; all rivalries, all great, and all with factions rooting for one-side.

Andre Agassi and Pete Sampras were tennis's greatest rivalry in the 90's. To say I leaned a little more to the Pete-side would be like saying Glenn Beck leans just a little to the right side. I would eventually shed the four-weeks-a-year cloth and dress myself in the white shorts, calf-high stripped socks, a collar-popped polo shirt, and an argyle sweater draped over my shoulders (Not literally, of course). I believed I was now a real tennis fan, simply because of a vested interest in one player...and I also remember exactly why I chose to call myself a "Pete-guy".

ESPN aired a series in 1999 called Sportscentury: 50 Greatest Athletes, and I happened to watch the episode detailing Pete Sampras's life and career. An event I watched that night remains one of my favorite sports moments that I was never fortunate enough to see (along with the "Miracle on Ice", Lou Gehrig's speech, and Jimmy V at the ESPY's). It could be described as just another quarterfinal in tennis's most forgotten major: the Australian Open, but this match in 1995 seemed like so much more. Pete Sampras was facing Jim Courier just a day after his coach, Tim Gullikson, had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. An emotionally distressed and lethargic Sampras found himself down two sets to nil, but rallied in the third and fourth to earn a fifth set. Battling tears on national television for almost the entire match, the levees finally broke when someone from the crowd yelled, "Do it for your coach Pete!" Visible tears welled up in his eyes as his composure was disintegrating before the crowd. Then Courier, in a moment of awkward uncertainty, muttered the words across the net, "You doing alright Pete? We can do this tomorrow." Sampras received this message as a mild insult, wiped his brow, aced out the game, and won the deciding set. It was a moment of pure emotional and athletic excellence. I saw a championship caliber athlete struggle with an issue that everyone fears they will face one day, and yet still be able to unearth the fortitude that made him great. It truely was a special moment in sports. The lines of sports as a sanctuary from life were blurred that night, but Pete redrew them in a way that combined both. Unfortunately, he would lose in the final to none other than Andre Agassi.

Sampras was a maestro with a racket; fluidly waving it through the air with instinctive control. His precision was so sharp, I'd let him perform heart surgery on any of my family members with a Wilson in one hand and a furry yellow ball in the other. He also controlled the net. Like a scruffier Bobby Fischer, each chip shot or slice was like a chess move; looking at shots ahead and setting you up for the inevitable checkmate. But then there was Agassi, the anti-Pete. His neon wardrobe and flashy hair made him look like he went straight to a Def Leppard concert after watching a Jane Fonda workout tape. He played scrappy and would grind away at opponents, often using his violent two-handed backhand. He was also a media-darling, SEEMINGLY dying for a neon-green limelight to blend in with his shorts. That is why I hated him....until last Sunday.

Much has been made about a few "confessions" that Agassi divulges in his new biography, Open. Once again, Agassi is making the same media rounds. U2 should take notes, Agassi has been on tour his whole life. Through ESPN, radio shows, and sports blogs, I had already heard rumblings about some of the things that Andre would break his silence on. However, none were as comprehensive as Katie Couric's interview on 60 Minutes last Sunday. To my surprise, what I found was an incredibly compelling, candid, remorseful, intelligent, humble, and grounded individual: a complete contradiction to what I expected.

Is it a marketing trap? He has been pounding the hard court for a few weeks, making sure everyone knows there is a book out there, not just these stories. A hot best selling biography is one of the easiest ways to pad the checking account (Is the life of ex-Miss California Carrie Prejean really that interesting?) Most athletes don't even wait until they retire. Chad Johnson, Serena Williams, and Dustin Pedroia have all released official biographies and all three are still in the prime of their career. What's ironic is that one of the more famous stories that comes out of the book, also shows how calculated Agassi can be about marketing his image. His go-to punchline about the book's content is how he would've reacted if his Cyndi Lauper meets Garth from Wayne's World hairpiece fell off on the clay at Rolland Garros. Bottom line is, aside from the obvious concern that fans should have over a guy that played dress-up at a major championship in order to sell cameras, lunchboxes,....or whatever, this still is a guy that has been in the spotlight from a young age and knows how to draw a crowd. I generally believe that his intentions are not just based on moving paper, and it is more focused on his desire to let some old skeletons out of the closet, but I also believed Rafael Palmeiro and Bill Clinton for a half-second. Any pub is good pub, especially when you're on a book tour.

Andre also served up some of the more personal details in his life. He dished on a paper-mache relationship with actress Brooke Shields and his courtship of arguably the greatest female tennis player of all-time. But for all of us who crossed our fingers for that Agassi/Graf ball-striker prodigy we saw in the Genworth Financial commercial (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2DfTU9bCh0), we'll have to rest that hope on Nomar Garciaparra and Mia Hamm's kid. His childhood is a familiar story. The icy-hearted stage mom forcing her blonde eight-year old from tap to piano lessons, or the ex-high school quarterback father that holds two-a-day conditioning sessions and has a framed picture of Dick Butkus hanging above the mantel. It is not often, however, when this militant parent model produces the true greats (I will give some credit to Earl Woods and Richard Williams).

Usually it seems as if these victims end up blowing out a knee from constant overuse and steroids, or they have some psychological break down, move to Canada, and find a career in something obscure like free-lance photography. What is Todd Marinovich doing now? Appropriately nicknamed "Robo QB", this former NFL bust grew up as one of the most highly touted high school players of all-time. From his conception through childhood, Todd could only consume organic foods, trained like Ivan Drago in Rocky IV, and listened to Mozart instead of watching Bugs Bunny. After two years in Sparta and his cup of coffee in the NFL (8 TD's, 9 INT's, and 1300 yards), constant drug abuse overtook his life and now he's scraping barnacles off yachts and getting ticketed for skateboarding in SoCal. Agassi revealed a similar childhood. Skipping school to practice against a Panzer tank disguised as a ball machine only partly contributed to Agassi's hatred of his father and tennis. After struggling with a relationship, a family, and a life he didn't want, Agassi took a page from Todd's playbook...the drugs.

Martina Navratilova, the face next to Steffi on the Mt. Rushmore of women's tennis, likens Andre's drug use and subsequent cover up to that of Roger Clemens's steroid allegations. Andre dismisses this comparison by differentiating between a performance enhancing drug, and well, one of the most damaging substances you could ever put in your body. Instead of injecting HGH to do a couple more squats or bicep curls, Andre was tucked away in some hotel room drinking a martini of grape soda, cough syrup, and bleach. All pros treat their body like a temple, right? NASCAR driver Jeremy Mayfield tested postive for methamphetamine earlier this year and claimed it was due to the combination of Adderall and a Claritin. If that is the case, then all the strung-out, over-achieving college kids with a stuffy nose should also have missing teeth and scratches on their face. Besides, what could be better for a Kentuckian than getting hopped up on meth and then driving in 500 circles at 200 mph? Couldn't be worse than popping a couple Miller Lites and playing chicken with mini-vans on the interstate. Just this year in tennis, Martina Hingis tested positive for cocaine at Wimbledon and Richard Gasquet claimed he tested positive for cocaine after making out with a floozie at some discotheque. Agassi's excuse is just as weak (his friend "Slim" slipped it in a soda), but at least a little credit should be given to him for ending that habit. I doubt kicking a meth addiction is as easy as chewing gum or sticking some patch on your arm.

Navratilova is not the only one upset with Andre. Marat Safin, a former number one in the world, has declared that Agassi should vacate all his majors and prize money for lying to the ATP. Safin questions the motives of releasing this information in a book as well. Even if there is some financial incentive behind a "tell-all", when is the last time you opened a school for underprivileged youths Marat? Andre admitted the faults and asked that critics, such as Martina and Marat, actually put forth some compassion for a guy that is trying to repent by purging previous lies about his life. Recent history has shown that we want our athletes to admit fault. If there really is a comparison between Andre and baseballs' steroid users, it certainly is not with Clemens, Palmeiro, McGwire, or Sosa. All four were caught with their pants down after lying in their Congressional hearings...and steroids do have a significant effect from the belt-buckle down. Agassi has used the tactic of A-Rod, Andy Pettitte, Jason Giambi, and Manny Ramirez: admit fault and accept the consequences. Granted there is no career backlash for a retired player, but the three Yanks and Man-Ram have undoubtedly weathered the initial media fire and partially turned their drug use into just an asterisk.

Open: a perfect title for the secrets behind a tennis champion. It's not some timeless literary tour de force. It may not even be one of the top sports biographies ever printed. I do believe that it is the truth though. I also believe there is a motive beyond the title of "New York Times Best Seller". Watching Andre hit a tennis ball back-and-forth with Steffi looked like someone gave Atlas a fifteen minute break, all the weight off his shoulders. His answers in multiple interviews with Katie Couric, Rick Reilly, and Don Imus were consistent, eloquent, funny, thoughtful, and peaceful. Those only lead me to a conclusion of truth. Just like the day I saw Pete Sampras combine life and sport, I think I will always remember the day I became an Agassi fan for doing the same thing. You can appreciate the greatness of two, even bitter rivals. I actually do like Coke and Pepsi.