JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

Michael Mewshaw reviews Andre Agassi’s autobiography Open in the Washington Post.

Presented to the public as clean family fun, an upscale entertainment for the country-club set, top-level tennis is actually played by the physical and emotional mutants of a misery machine that leaves them too ill-educated or psychically damaged to understand what has happened to their lives. Like most victims of abuse, they’d rather not talk about it.

So it’s both astonishing and a pleasure to report that Andre Agassi, who was castigated for an ad campaign saying “Image is everything,” has produced an honest, substantive, insightful autobiography. True to the genre of jock hagiography, it has its share of stock footage — total recall of famous matches, the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat and an upbeat ending. But the bulk of this extraordinary book vividly recounts a lost childhood, a Dickensian adolescence and a chaotic struggle in adulthood to establish an identity that doesn’t depend on alcohol, drugs or the machinations of PR. . .

When Andre revealed his crystal meth use we asked, Why now? Why is he making a public confession when he’s retired, well-loved, a statesman of tennis and a philanthropist? From the Post review it seems Andre has thrown the windows open on the ugly side of tennis: the things that have only been whispered about, he says out loud. The ATP knew he was doping, but they did nothing.

I think he could’ve coasted on the survivor story (Brutalized child overcomes personal catastrophe to become a champion and a human being) but he wants to do more. He feels that he’s been living a lie —loved for his tennis when he really hates tennis—and he wants to come clean. Most people don’t have to write a book about it, but remember that this is a guy whose entire life has been lived in the public arena. Up to this point it’s the only life he’s ever known. Have a good post-tennis life, man. Personally I’m glad you lost the hair.