December 30, 2009
Will Agassi-Sampras competition ever end?
By Pete Bodo
When Andre Agassi published his autobiography "Open" this fall, it added an astonishing coda not only to his career in tennis, but to his rivalry with Pete Sampras. And I'm not referring to the uncharitable comments Andre mixed in while expressing his grudging admiration for Sampras.
We now have official autobiographies from the men whose rivalry and all-around excellence are a high-water mark for the Open era. And a comparison of the books speaks, er, volumes. Read side by side, they underscore what radically different individuals these men are. Full disclosure is in order here: I was Pete's co-author for "A Champion's Mind", which you can take into account here any way you wish.
First of all, the two titles are telling. Andre wanted to fully expose his thoughts and emotions in his book; Pete wanted to let readers know how and why he went about becoming the all-time Grand Slam singles title record-holder in 2000. Thus, Andre's book is personal, as if he were saying, "This is who I was and how I felt about things." Pete's book is more general: "This is how I became a great Grand Slam champion, and these are the decisions I made while traveling that path."
Just as Andre rolls his eyes at the suggestion that he revealed as much as he did because he wanted to sell books, Pete scoffs at the idea that he was reluctant to reveal details of his personal life because he wanted to keep his dirty laundry secret. Andre didn't see the point in writing a book that was anything less than honest (and let's remember, that doesn't mean "objective"), while Pete didn't see the point in divulging details of his life that had no bearing on the story of how he became great. One big difference between the men is that Andre's personal fluctuations had a significant impact on his career; very little in Pete's personal life interfered with his own quest.
Ultimately, the dramatic contrast between the two men can be summed up pretty neatly. Pete's story is that of a guy who had a great gift, and treated it like it was gold. Andre had a great gift and for long stretches seemed to want nothing more than to trash it.
Pete's epiphany came shortly after he lost the U.S. Open final to Stefan Edberg in 1992. He decided he hadn't been willing to dig as deep as he needed in order to win, and vowed never to make that mistake again. He decided to accept the responsibility thrust on him by his talent, and the following year he won his second and third majors and it was off to the races.
Andre's epiphany more or less occurred when he won the French Open in 1999. That's when the storm clouds began to dissipate and he began to reconcile himself to the fact that as much as he might have resented the game and his personal history in it, tennis was the vehicle he could use to find his long-sought fulfillment. That was in his 14th season as a Grand Slam competitor. Pete's moment of realization came in just his fifth year as a tour player.
And lastly, Andre clearly wanted his readers to know how he really felt, every step of the way. (The book does a great job of unfolding in a perpetual present.) Pete didn't want to use his book for personal therapy, to settle scores, or to feed a reader's appetite for gossip or purely personal details about his own life.
The literary efforts of the men mirrored their careers and revealed basic truths about them: Pete resolved to remain above it all and tell how he triumphed. Andre wanted to dive deep into his often-troubled soul and tell us what it was really like down there. Both men succeeded, so once again we're left with the familiar choice: Sampras or Agassi?