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There he was, swimming in a sea of waves, counter-waves and even counter-counter waves of armchair psychology and sociology, laden also with dialogue around marketing, advertising and public relations. As such, and as his peers Courier, Michael Chang and Pete Sampras will also tell you, with the American tennis boom having crested by the early ’80s, it wasn’t easy trying to be an American tennis champion in the post-boom ‘90s. But no one captured more of the spotlight—for better or worse—than Agassi.
To tennis aficionados who watched him closely for his 20-year-career, Agassi was appreciated for being as great a ball-striker as tennis had ever seen. Tactical genius Brad Gilbert, who drastically turned Agassi’s career around when they began their eight-year partnership in 1994, grasped what his charge needed to do inside the lines with razor-like precision.
“My favorite story was when we started working together and I took a look at Andre’s stats with returns and serves,” Gilbert told me recently. “He was No. 5 in the return category—but only 36 in serving. Thirty-six? How could that be? I told him, if you could just get in the Top 10 there, you’ll be in a great position. So in ’95, he started thinking a lot more about holding serve—and was No. 1 for most of the year.”
Still, for the first decade or so of his career, Agassi so often grappled with potential and accomplishment, a constant teeter-totter between revelation and apocalypse.
The anguished American appealed to the dabblers who parachuted into the arcane tennis world. To those armed with magazine feature assignments from fashion and lifestyle magazines, to camera crews bearing network logos, to the great many who barely knew Lendl from lentils, Agassi's Yoda-like ability to channel Oprah Winfrey and motivational speaker Tony Robbins was rather mesmerizing.
“I don’t think the public has ever had any concept of who I am,” he said in “The New Andre Agassi,” a 1995 Sports Illustrated cover story that appeared just as he reached the world No. 1 ranking. “They see the cars and the plane, and if they don’t try, they stop there.”
Alas, from that pinnacle came a descent, dropping out of the Top 100 two years later, and also abusing substances in a way he would eventually chronicle quite vividly.
There at last came the era I’ll informally call the Harmonic Agassi Convergence. From 1998 until the end of his career in 2006, he demonstrated a singular commitment to the game. He racked up five more Grand Slam singles titles, including the redemptive 1999 Roland Garros run that earned him a career Slam and, soon enough that magical summer, the love of his life in the form of Stefanie Graf. Over this last phase of his years on the tour, it was interesting to note how much like Graf he conducted himself on the court—focused, business-like, the once-electric and intermittently erratic shot-maker shed in favor of a grinding warrior.