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WATCH: Andre Agassi Retires
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WATCH: Andre Agassi Retires |
[by Amy Bass] Don't blame us if we ever doubt you Last spring, in this very space, I gave my top ten reasons why sports suck. The summer is gone, fall is in the air, and I am happy to say that I am over it. I shouldn't be, of course. My beloved Red Sox, who spent most of the summer dominating the American League's eastern division, have fallen a good length behind the real evildoers. (Of course, Jon Lester's cancer diagnosis and Papi's heart palpitations have put the reality of winning and losing into a bit of perspective.) My hero-with-a-racket, Andre Agassi, has retired, leaving only Bono on my admittedly short list of supermen. Football has started and, well, I hate football. And while hockey is gearing up to go, it remains to be seen if the NHL can really get its act together. But yet I'm okay with all that, because since last spring, when lacrosse players were accused of ugly acts of violence, Barry Bonds was being held responsible for everything except the Middle East crisis, Reggie Bush went second in the NFL draft, and so on and so forth, the world of sports has renewed my faith in, well, sports. So why has this restoration taken place? Well, as Boston's Royal Rooters knew so well back in the days that they put their faith in the beguiling “Tessie” and the Red Sox won a lot of World Series, sports knows that even when we doubt it, we need it. Thus, my return to sports began with Tiger's first victory of the summer. Still grieving his father's death, he failed to make the cut at the U.S. Open in June. But come July, Tiger – as anyone who hasn't been living under a rock knows – grabbed the British Open over Chris DiMarco, who also had just lost a parent, in a poignant showdown of excellence. Tiger's roll continued, highlighted by a victory at the PGA Championship, which, like the British Open, Woods won at 18-under-par. And as the leaves begin to turn, Tiger now sits back atop a sport in a spectacularly dominate fashion, equaled by no other. Except perhaps for Roger Federer, who shares not just athletic excellence with Woods, but also a hefty endorsement deal with Nike (Tiger's appearance at Flushing Meadows for Roger's final sealed the deal on their friends-with-swooshes relationship). American media has been ruing the demise of tennis because of the lack of American stars in the game. Yet U.S. Open tickets topped 600,000 this year, making it the best-attended sporting event in the country, and tennis fans seem to have dropped enough patriotic spirit to embrace rivalries such as Federer and Nadal, and have enough room in their hearts for Maria “I Feel Pretty” Sharapova, who definitely is respected for more than just her pleasing face and hilarious black sequined cocktail version of a tennis dress, and perhaps will put Anna Kournikova's face off our radar once and for all. But it is Agassi's retirement that has restored not only my faith in sports, but perhaps in America in general. Agassi and I are the same age, almost to the day, and I have been at his side – at least in spirit – since his professional debut when we were both 16 years old. In the beginning, this caused generational tension within my tennis-loving family: why would I support the play of this punk who appears to have no respect for his own game? And Agassi was, for all intents and purposes, a punk: his look, his behavior, his refusal to wear white and play Wimbledon. And for this, I loved him. He was a rebel, not just in his endorsement contract for a Canon camera of the same name, but on the court and in life. And rebels sometimes make gut-cringing mistakes, whether by saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times, demonstrating poor sportsmanship, or simply refusing to step up and fulfill the role of athlete. Few can dispute Agassi's record. While Pete Sampras, his frequent opponent, has more Grand Slam victories than Agassi, he never accomplished the big one: a career Slam. Agassi won everything – the Australian, the French, Wimbledon, the U.S. Open – and went steps further with a gold medal in the Olympics, a Davis Cup team victory, and the Tennis Masters Cup. He played 21 consecutive years at Flushing Meadows, a feat few are likely – if ever – to best. And then off the court, he straightened out his personal life, recognized the beauty of the remarkable Steffi Graf, and founded a $60 million charitable foundation. So now, he retires as a role model, albeit one who hobbles off the court because of sciatica, unilaterally embraced by fans, commentators, and sportswriters alike. His last gift to us was his penultimate match, a marathon against Marcos Baghdatis, which is simply one of the greatest feats I have ever witnessed. And it wasn't just because of the match, in which Baghdatis looked like the old man by the end and Agassi was the one sprinting his chair at the changeovers, but because New Yorkers stayed up well past midnight to ensure that their hearts and voices played a part in Agassi's victory. And I have a feeling I wasn't the only one who stood for match point alone in my living room, and didn't even feel foolish for doing so. But perhaps most importantly in all of this, it isn't just Agassi that has changed. The celebration of his career that we have witnessed in the past two weeks mean that sports and sports fans have let him change. And this is something that Americans do not tend to do. John Kerry changed his mind about the war. He lost. Tom Cruise apologized to Brooke Shields. He still got fired. George W. Bush finally admitted that there have been secret prisons around the globe. He got….well, we'll have to let that one play out a bit longer. But for Agassi, history has been written. He has left behind his many haircuts, costume changes, and petulant behaviors to a lengthy standing ovation. And that makes me confident that sports might be okay for a while. September 14, 2006 |
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