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Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Sayson: Andre moves a non-fan to tears
By Homer Sayson
Secondovertime
CHICAGO — I’ve never been an Andre Agassi fan, and now that he has left the sport after 21 years as a pro, I’m not about to jump in the teary bandwagon of love and farewell.
But when the 36-year-old legend played his final match last Sunday at the Arthur Ashe Stadium, I was pulling for him like crazy, hoping that he could turn back the clock, and race towards the sunset with the US Open trophy in his arms.
Reality, however, did not accommodate such fairy tale and after four agonizing sets, Andre, ravaged by back pains that needed cortisone injections, was sent packing out of New York and straight into retirement.
But even in tennis, a sport that is sometimes boring as a lullaby, saying goodbye can be dramatic.
As Andre sat at the sidelines, getting himself ready for that final away from the spotlight, a stadium overflowing with over 23,000 fans gave him a five-minute ovation. Andre acknowledged the tribute with his now customary bows before grabbing a microphone
“You have given me your shoulders to stand on, to reach for my dreams — dreams I could never have reached without you. Over the last 21 years, I have found you, and I will take you, and the memory of you, with me for the rest of my life.”
Oh my gosh, my fire-breathing, beer-drinking and testosterone-oozing male following will certainly detest me for this. They’ll lash at me for being uncool, unmanly, a softy, and perhaps, some may even think I’m gender-challenged.
But I’m going to confess, anyway.
While Andre addressed the crowd, his lips quivering, his eyes welling, and his mouth straining for words, I too was peeling tears from my cheeks. If there’s such a thing as a good time to cry, this was it. Thank God for Kleenex.
With 14 Grand Slam titles in his belt, I still think Pete Sampras was the best player ever to swing a tennis racket. But with 60 ATP Tour wins and eight slams. the 5-foot-11, 177-pound Agassi is within firing range of Pistol Pete.
When he first stormed into tennis, Andre was a 16-year-old brat, a rebel without a pause. He dated celebrities, argued with umpires, and partied like a rock star. And then later in his career, after a painful divorce from Brooke Shields, Andre transformed himself, turning style into substance.
From as low as 141 in the rankings, Andre rose back to No.1 in the world, becoming the only player in history to hold the No.1 spot for three different decades. How amazing is that?
Of Andre’s eight Grand Slam titles, five came after he turned 28. How ridiculous is that?
Efficient as a mower, he clipped the competition in the grass courts of Wimbledon. He dusted everyone in the crushed red brick surface of Roland Garros, and he pounded all comers in the hardcourts of Australia and USA.
I mean, Andre is just one of five human beings to win all four Grand Slam events. How fantastic is that?
When he arrived at the men’s locker room after his elimination, Andre was met with the loud, unbridled applause of his peers. In a sport that thrives in the “demise of others,” Andre thought of those cheers as the ultimate salute.
Representatives from the ATP Tour followed Andre in the locker room. they picked some of his things—Adidas clothing, a Head Flexpoint Radical racket, and an Adidas Cool Feather II—for display at the Tennis Hall of Fame.
He may not be the best ever, but he is a legend. And he doesn’t have to be dead to be immortal.
(homsay@hotmail.com)
For Bisaya stories from Cebu. Click here. (September 6, 2006 issue)
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