It's over. The 21-year roller-coaster ride we took with Andre Agassi at the controls (and sometimes not) has finally, inexorably rolled to a standstill, and it's time to put up the safety bar, climb out, and stagger down the boardwalk and out of the turnstile.
The end was fitting, no matter how much we may not have wanted it to end. The great gift given to Andre this week was his astonishing triumph over Marcos Baghdatis - all that came later was what the literary crowd might call resolution. It was thin and pale and muted. The denouement, in this play of countless acts, was hit on Wednesday night.
For me, the end provided one of those moments that you know, right off the bat, you will never forget - the day John Lennon was shot, the day the twin towers were hit. Oh, I'm not trying to draw any parallels or comparisons with that; it's just that those "I know exactly where I was when it happened" moments are delivered at random, no matter how meaningful or trivial they are.
My wife, Lisa, and son, Cowboy Luke, had come out to the tennis today, and they were guests at the Fairchild box, along with our friend Haider Abbud and his family. We all had a nice lunch and chat as the match unfolded, talking mostly tennis, until I repaired to the media center at the end of the third set to roll up my sleeves.
Then, I went over to the player lounge, to try to catch up with Jimmy Connors, but I didn't find him. I did this partly because, in my mind, the Agassi story was already written; and I had seen nothing in the on-going match that made me feel any differently about that; I felt we had already rolled through the last and most hair-raising pitches in the ride.
On the way to the lounge, I bumped into Tony Godsik, the IMG agent who represents Roger Federer. He was with Lynette Federer, Roger's mother. He introduced us, and we stopped to talk for a bit. She reminded me of a proper suburban mom, circa 1960s. Her dark hair was neatly coiffed, and her clothes were tasteful and understated. She looked a proper lady, but with a far more engaging and direct manner than I could have expected.
We chatted briefly, and I told her how much the TennisWorld Tribe loves Roger, and how worked up they get when I criticize him, or even when I just get playful, and have a little fun with his Wimbledon jacket.
"That's good," she replied briskly. "There is something to criticize in everyone, and it makes it all the more interesting all around."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Andre was in trouble in Set 4. I decided I'd better focus. So I returned to the press center, where I watched a few games, while sneaking peeks at the storm gathering over on Louis Armstrong stadium, where Nalbandian had come back from a 2 sets to love deficit to make a match of it against Marat Safin.
I was now in full attention mode, and then the cell phone rang. It was Lisa. Luke was out by the south entrance, trying to jump in the fountain, after having spent half-an-hour trying to push over the giant yellow tennis ball in front of the Lexus display. I ran out to say good-bye to them, and I saw that Becker was serving for the match. I gave Luke a kiss good-bye and hurried back toward the press room only to see the match-ending ace on the giant screen on the stadium wall.
The reaction among the hundreds gathered on the grassy bits and around the fountain, watching, was strikingly muted. There was scattered, tepid applause. But mostly, it was shock. I can't imagine it was disbelief, given Andre's physical condition, and the relatively high level Benjamin Becker - a match-tough, seasoned journeyman - brought to the field of play. I think it was a combination of awe and a sense of the historic dimensions of the moment. It was like they weren't exactly sure of what they felt, because, really, there was nothing to feel anymore.
And that was it today, I think - there was nothing to feel because it had all been felt since Wednesday night. And that wasn't Andre Agassi on the court today, that was a shadow, a 21-year old wraith that showed up to go through the motions of playing an ultimately meaningless tennis match today, for what difference did it really make? Sure Andre wanted to win the tournament. He wanted to go as deep into the draw as he could. But that was just a pro forma hat tip to the realities of a tennis pro's life and the requirements of a good drama.
As Andre made his way to his chair following the handshake, I made my way back to the press room. And an eerie walk it was. All the way, people -fans, ushers, security guards, players, coaches - were standing, gazing at the live images of Agassi in repose. They shaded their eyes with their hands as they peered through plate glass windows. They sat at the Heineken Red Star bar, eyes turned up to the television monitors, beers untouched. They stood, heads up and chins out, staring at the Jumbotrons.
It was silent, as it always is on such occasions. Overhead, enormous white clouds crawled across the sky; it was a bluebird day, not a single white scar left by a jet; a hint of sadness lingered in the air, of course, and suddenly it seemed as if everything were a little less substantial, as if gravity itself had suddenly been reduced by a few foot-pounds.
Back in the press center, I watched Andre sitting in his chair, fighting back the tears while simultaneously drinking in the emotions - a signature Agassi trait, that. And I learned something from the dramatic close-ups. Andre is a nail-biter. It isn't an attribute you associate with a warrior and champion. It isn't the first surprising thing I've learned about Agassi, but perhaps it's the last. So it's one I won't forget.
In his press conference (which is still going on), Andre was asked what he might say to the kid he once was: a 17-year old who didn't really care to give back to the game. He replied, "I'd say, 'I understand you but I sure as heck wouldn 't want to be you."
He also said that when he was fresh off the court, he had to explain to his children why he had been crying. "It was pretty upsetting to them, they don't realize that dads do that."
His kids might find it just as hard to understand that a lot of you cried too, just a few minutes ago.