|
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Pages: How Mike made Andre the giant
By John Pages
Match Point
EVER since birth, I’ve “programmed” Jana, my only child, to become a tennis champion.
A few hours after she was wheeled from the nursery into room 321 of Cebu Doctors Hospital, I whispered into her ears: “The Women’s No.1 is Martina Hingis.”
Her bedroom today has two hanging frames: A pony-tailed little girl swinging a racket (who looks like her, of course) and Serena Williams’ picture. She owns three junior rackets, 50 tennis balls, and the fist pump of Rafael Nadal.
She’s six-years-old.
I’ll admit it: I’m a frustrated champion. I played the Juniors circuit in the late 1980s, boarded the plane to Manila to do battle there, reached No.5 in the rankings.
I made it. Almost. But who cares about “almost?” Either all or most don’t.
So now I’m doing to Jana what I couldn’t – become a champion.
Will this work?
Mike Agassi, the dad of a player named Andre, has this story.
Manuel Aghasi grew up to become one of Iran’s top boxers in the late 1940s. Finally, his chance to shine arrived in the 1948 London Olympics. He lost. Still hungry from that defeat, he jumped inside the ring once more in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics. He lost.
Frustrated?
No.
Devastated.
Mike Agassi made it. Almost. But who cares about “almost?” Either all or most don’t.
So Mike did what every frustrated champion does to his children.
In 1953, Manny migrated to the US, arriving penniless. He changed his name to Mike Agassi, married Elizabeth and the couple had four children: Rita, Phillip, Tamra and, the youngest, Andre Kirk.
Settling in Las Vegas, Mike became a tennis pro at the Tropicana. He was so passionate about tennis that he built a mini-training camp in his backyard complete with a full-size court (which he himself laid) and a tennis-serving machine rigged to fire balls faster than the usual speed.
When Andre was born, he hung a tennis ball atop the baby’s crib, swung it back and forth for his eyes to follow, then cajoled him to swing.
‘’My dad was convinced that if my eyes are going to move around as a little baby,” Andre later said, “I might as well be looking at a tennis ball.’’
As soon as Andre could walk, his dad taped a racket to his son’s hand. He gifted him a full-sized racket as tall as the two-year-old.
“He practiced every afternoon, all afternoon. He practiced every weekend, all weekend. He practiced every holiday that I can recall,” said Perry Rogers, a family friend and Andre’s manager.
By 10, young Andre was not only hitting 3,000 balls a day, seven days a week, but was also winning against some of the same players he’d later face. Who? Three names you might recognize: Pete Sampras, Jim Courier, Michael Chang.
Mike had Andre practice with Ilie Nastase and Jimmy Connors. Andre’s sister, Rita, finally rebelled and moved in with and later married tennis great Pancho Gonzales.
“My dad had one rule in the house on weekends,” Andre said. “You wake up, you play tennis and you brush your teeth, in that order.”
Three years later, dad Mike needed help training his young prodigy. He turned to Nick Bollettieri, a famed coach who had started a tennis boarding school for youths in Bradenton, Florida.
FAST FORWARD. Today, the double-A battery that’s branded “Andre Agassi” is one of the game’s strongest.
In his pocket, Andre has eight Grand-Slam Singles titles, 60 trophies in all. There’s an Olympic gold medal inside. He’s amassed tens of millions of dollars in prize money and endorsements. Plus, wrapped around his fingers are those of Mrs.
Steffi Graf Agassi.
Is dad Mike happy?
The highlight was the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. Andre reached the finals against the many-time French Open champion, Sergei Bruguera.
In attendance that day was Mike, who surprised his son just in time for the championship. After a surprisingly quick straight sets match, Andre won the gold medal.
“A memorable embrace,” Andre said, as father and son met at the edge of the stands and hugged. “One we’ll have for the rest of our lives.”
“This is the closest I will ever come to a gold medal,” said Mike, his thick Iranian accent mixed with a cracking voice.
What’s the lesson for me?
I made it. Almost.
The ball is in your hands, Jana.
(john@playhouse.edu.ph)
(August 16, 2005 issue)
Write letter to the editor.Click here.
Join the Sun.Star message board.Click here. |
|
[return to top]
[home]
[network page]
|
LOCAL NEWS
BUSINESS
OPINION
SPORTS
LIFESTYLE
FEATURE
SUPERBALITA
WEEKEND
|
