Chapter 1: What does Andre Agassi reveal about his struggles with identity?
I open my eyes and I don't know where I am or who I am. Not all that unusual. I've spent half my life not knowing. Still, this feels different. This confusion is more frightening, more total. I look up. I'm lying on the floor beside the bed. I remember now. I moved from the bed to the floor in the middle of the night. I do that most nights. Better for my back.
i count to three then start the long difficult process of standing with a cough a groan i roll onto my side then curl into the fetal position then flip over onto my stomach i'm a young man relatively speaking thirty-six But I wake as if I'm 96. After three decades of sprinting, stopping on a dime, jumping high and landing hard, my body no longer feels like my body, especially in the morning.
Consequently, my mind doesn't feel like my mind. Upon opening my eyes, I'm a stranger to myself. I run quickly through the basic facts. My name is Andre Agassi. My wife's name is Steffi Graf. We have two children, a son and a daughter, five and three. We live in Las Vegas, Nevada, but currently reside in a suite at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York City because I'm playing in the 2006 U.S.
Open, my last U.S. Open. In fact, my last tournament ever. I play tennis for a living, even though I hate tennis. Hate it with a dark and secret passion and always have. As this last piece of identity falls into place, I slide to my knees and in a whisper I say, please let this be over. Then I say, I'm not ready for it to be over. Hate brings me to my knees. Love gets me on my feet.
Gil, my trainer, my friend, my surrogate father, explains it this way. Your body is saying that it doesn't want to do this anymore. My body has been saying that for a long time, I tell Gil. Almost as long as I've been saying it. My body doesn't want to retire. My body has already retired. My body has moved to Florida and bought a condo.
So I've been negotiating with my body, asking it to come out of retirement for a few hours here and a few hours there. Much of this negotiation revolves around a cortisone shot that temporarily dulls the pain. Before the shot works, however, it causes its own torments. I got one yesterday so I could play tonight.
It was the third shot this year, the 13th of my career, and by far the most alarming. The burning sensation made me bite my lip. Then came the pressure. The tiny space in my spine where the nerves are housed began to feel vacuum-packed. The pressure built until I thought my back would burst. Pressure is how you know everything's working, the doctor said. Words to live by, doc.
I limp out to the living room of our suite. My son Jaden and my daughter Jazz see me and scream, Daddy, Daddy. They jump up and down and want to leap on me. They stop just before leaping because they know Daddy is delicate these days. Daddy will shatter if you touch him too hard. Jaden asks if today is the day. Yes. You're playing? Yes. And then after today, you retire? Not if I win, son.
If I win tonight, I keep playing. He hopes Daddy loses, hopes Daddy experiences the disappointment that surpasses all others. He doesn't understand. And how will I ever be able to explain it to him? The pain of losing. The pain of playing. It has taken me nearly 30 years to understand it myself, to solve the calculus of my own psyche. I sit quietly at the table, looking around the suite.
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Chapter 2: How did Andre's relationship with his father shape his tennis career?
I say, I don't want this stupid thing. I say it because I think it's what my father wants to hear. My father comes alongside me. He rips the trophy from my hands. He lifts it over his head and throws it on the cement. The trophy shatters. I don't say a word. I know not to say a word. Andre hates tennis.
He hates playing an individual sport. He starts to play soccer, which he loves. He wants to be on a team.
His father at first allows him to play soccer because he thinks the conditioning would be good for tennis, but then realizes that there's a risk of injury by playing soccer may keep him away from practicing tennis. And so his father literally yanks him out in the middle of a soccer game and says, you're never playing soccer again. I beg him for a second chance.
I tell my father that I don't like being by myself on that huge tennis court. Tennis is lonely. He shouts at the top of his lungs. You're a tennis player. You
going to be number one in the world you're going to make lots of money that's the plan and that's the end of it his father is insane so he did this with his other Andre I think has three older siblings and he tried to turn them into professional tennis players too his older brother is named Philly listen to this conversation remember Andre's around 10 years old one night Philly asked me to promise him something sure Philly anything don't ever let pops give you any pills
Pills? Andre, you have to hear what I'm telling you. This is really important. Okay, Philly, I hear you. I'm listening. Next time you go away to Nationals, if Pop gives you pills, do not take them. These pills are tiny, white, round. Do not take them whatever you do. What if Pop makes me? I can't say no to Pop. If you have to take the pills, if he makes you take them, play a bad match. Tank.
Then as you come off the court, tell him you were shaking so bad that you couldn't concentrate. Okay, Philly, but what are these pills? Speed. What's that? A drug gives you lots of energy. I just know he's going to try to slip you some speed. How do you know, Philly? He gave it to me. Sure enough, at the Nationals, my father gives me a pill. Hold out your hand, he says. This will help you.
Take it. He puts a pill in my palm. Tiny, white, and round. Andre's dad has this vision of how his son's life's going to be, and he doesn't care. He couldn't care less what his own son's vision is. And Andre says, having no choice, having no say about what I do or who I am makes me crazy. And so he sends Andre away to this, basically this tennis boarding school.
And so Andre describes this school. When we're not drilling, we're studying the psychology of tennis. We take classes on mental toughness, positive thinking and visualization. We're taught to close our eyes and pictures ourselves winning Wimbledon, hoisting the trophy above our heads. This is when he starts to rebel. No one seems to notice my antics. I've mutilated my hair, grown my nails.
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Chapter 3: What psychological toll does Agassi discuss regarding his fame?
Some hidden craving I didn't know was there. I'm shy, but I like attention. I cringe when fans start dressing like me, but I also dig it. I'm flattered by the imitators, embarrassed, thoroughly confused. I can't imagine all these people trying to be like Andre Agassi, since I don't want to be Andre Agassi.
There's a story in the book later on where he goes out one night, gets completely drunk, and is completely hungover the next day and has to play in a tournament. So he wears Oakley sunglasses to hide the fact that his eyes are bloodshot and he's hungover. He winds up winning. There's a great picture of him. It's put on the cover of a magazine. It sells a ton of Oakley sunglasses.
And the founder of Oakley, without telling Andre beforehand, has a brand new Dodge Viper delivered to Andre's house as a thank you. And again, he does not hide at any step along the way that he's just very confused. He doesn't know who he is. He's talking about the fact that, you know, he has to sit for all these interviews. Media is a huge part of his job.
Journalists are always asking him questions. And he says, you're asking about the subject that I understand the least. Me. And even though he hates himself, even though in many cases he's deeply depressed, he likes the response that he's getting. Millions of fans like me, apparently.
I get sacks full of fan mail, including naked pictures of women with their phone numbers scrawled along the margin. And yet each day I'm vilified because of my look, because of my behavior. I absorb the role of the villain. I accept it. I grow into it. I am the villain in every match and every tournament.
And so one thing that Charlie Munger says that I think is really important, he says, you know, anybody engaged in difficult work needs somebody they can organize their thoughts with. That person should be somebody, you know, you like and admire and trust. Some people do this with friends, coaches, therapists, some turn to religion.
And so Andre considers him a Christian, but he never felt that he was close to God. He couldn't find the right church. And one day he stumbles into this church with a pastor who doesn't want to be called a pastor, this guy named JP.
JP is going to be one of Andre's lifelong friends, somebody that will travel the world with Andre, and somebody Andre will talk to and call when he has difficult times in his life. And this is the first time he meets him. He insists that we call him JP. He says he wants his church to feel unlike a church. He wants it to feel like a home where friends gather. He doesn't have any answers, he says.
He just happens to have read the Bible a few dozen times front to back and has some observations to share. JP's church is the first one where I felt truly close to God. And so they spend a lot of time together. They have these long conversations. Andre usually feels better after he talks to somebody.
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Chapter 4: How does Agassi describe his journey from success to burnout?
And one of the sources, this uncontrollable anger reminds you a lot of his father. So he's in he's playing in the tournament. His opponent just broke his serve. And he says, I cannot let go of my sudden anger. I look up at the sky and fantasize about flying away since I can't fly away. At least this tennis ball can fly away. Be free, little ball.
I whack it high above the stands and out of the stadium. Automatic warning. The umpire says into the microphone, code violation, warning, abusive ball. Fuck you, I say. He calls over the ref. He tells the ref that Agassi said, fuck you. The referee approached and says, did you say that? Yes. Then this match is over. Fine. Fuck you too.
And he just starts to lose and lose and lose and get more depressed. Rock, and this is what he says, this is very fascinating. Rock bottom can be very cozy because at least you're at rest. You know you're not going anywhere for a while. So he feels he has no control over his professional life. And at the very same time, he feels he has no control over his personal life. He is engaged.
His soon-to-be wife is, of course, planning the wedding. And yet he cannot muster the courage to put a stop to it before it happens. My wedding looms. I think about it all the time. I think about postponing it, about calling it off together, but I don't know how. And so his friend and assistant offers him a way to deal with this stress.
And, you know, he's obviously depressed is what's going on here. And he says, hey, do you want to get high with me? High? He says, yeah. On what? Gak. What the hell is Gak? Crystal meth. Why do they call it Gak? Because that's the sound you make when you're high. Your mind is going so fast, all you can say is Gak, Gak, Gak. That's how I feel all the time. What's the point?
This will make you feel like Superman, dude. I'm telling you. And as if they're coming out of someone else's mouth, someone standing directly behind me, I hear these words. You know what? Fuck it. Let's get high. He cuts it, snorts it. He cuts it again. I snort it. I'm seized by an urge, a desperate desire to clean. I don't sleep for two days.
Think about how different the perception of his life is at this point than what it actually is. World famous tennis player. Former number one. Grand slam winner. Engaged to one of the most beautiful women on the planet. This guy's got it all. And really, I hate what I do. I hate myself. I don't want to marry this woman. And I'm smoking and snorting crystal meth.
And so he winds up getting married because they're super famous. There's paparazzi everywhere. And so before they leave the church, they have a decoy bride. So somebody that looks like Brooke, dressed like her, they leave first to throw the paparazzi off the scent. And he says, now as I see the brook look like leaving, I have a thought no man should have on his wedding day.
I wish I were leaving too. I wish I had a decoy groom to take my place. He pulls out of all the tournaments. His wife goes to work in Los Angeles. Andre goes back to Vegas. hangs out with his assistant and friend Slim, and they just spend their days getting high. And anytime he does play, he embarrasses himself.
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