Yo,
I've lived in New York all of my life. Sure, I spent 3 1/2 years in Philadelphia, but I was home over the summers and never changed my permanent address away from my city. (You could make an argument that I spent over a year of my life in Spain, but that is scattered through about 7 different summers, so that does not count either.)
Over the course of my 30 years on this planet, I have encountered a few moments in time that captured a spirit of New York that I have grown to loath and appreciate simultaneously. Below are three stories that are unique to NY's melting pot. Two of them are tales of the homeless, but that is because the first tale I tell is from about a month ago and it haunts me still.
1) The Cautionary Tale
Before I get into the story itself, let me tell you a lot about my neighborhood of the past four years, Manhattan's Upper East Side. Once a bastion of blue-blooded wealth and power, it is now a haven for several distinct sectors of society. There are still the Gossip Girl elite who reside in the area, but feel the need to commute to other locales to be "spotted". The neighborhood has diversified by adding a number of projects and a series of frat bars. It's like an episode of The Real World from ten years ago, when it was a social experiment, rather than what it now, a faux drama.
My particular place in the neighborhood is less pronounced and is related to a prominent hospital/medical school in the neighborhood. I have an uncle and aunt who live a half a block from me and are part of this hospital's wide net. When I was finding my place to live was that when I was looking for a place to live, I was crazy busy at work and so I hired a broker to try to find cheap apartments to rent. The broker described the Upper East Side as "the best bang for your buck". Of course, the deciding factor was that my brother was about to be brought into the same hospital area for his new job. With my brother about to move in, close family nearby and the best bang for your buck, I made the easy choice.
1) The Cautionary Tale: Take 2
On my way home from work, I am walking by one of the popular frat bars in my neighborhood and see two people making out. The girl is aggressively pushing the willing man into the glass window. Her face repeatedly lunges at his face and neck. Upon first glance, I couldn't care less, but my interest piques when I see the fascination of the people around the bar. It's like the first time they had ever seen a public display of affection.
So, I started unwittingly rubbernecking to figure out what great mystery was taking place outside the bar. Was one of them a celebrity? Finally, the moment of truth arrives. In one of her breaks for air, I looked at the girl, who was dressed for a night on the town, with a short skirt and she appeared to be under 30 (I'm bad with age). She was neither particularly attractive nor particularly unattractive, so I looked at the guy. I recognized him. No, he's not a celebrity, nor is he a friend. He is one of our neighborhood homeless and yes, he meets the stereotype by sporting fewer than 10 teeth and smelling like a foot sandwich.
Party girl was totally making out with a homeless guy. And those people in the bar gawking at her seemed to know her. Some were even laughing, while others had sheer disgust on their faces. I have no reason to doubt that she was drunk and frankly I kindof assumed she was. But, there you go. That's New York.
Some of you are thinking: hey Papa Bear, why didn't you stop this travesty? I have been known to get involved in the lives of strangers, but two consenting adults can mostly do what they please. And I did consider getting involved, but only for a split second before I took into consideration that she was the person that was all over him. (He was not unwilling, but she was clearly the aggressor.) Would I have done anything if it was the other way around? Honestly, I have no idea and I doubt it, but I did not have to make that decision.
Some of you are thinking: hey Papa Bear, it's classist for you to think this is disgusting (maybe racist too, as they were of different races). Oh, I thought of that too... one of my initial thoughts were, "everybody's got a type". While I don't know much about evaluating the relative attractiveness of men, some women prefer a grungier look. And his style was straight out of Derelicte (Zoolander reference). Maybe I was a little too disturbed by the image, but I thought it was noteworthy and as I mentioned, it continues to weigh on me a month later. Maybe the part that got me was the possibility that this guy who does not groom himself, has no home, makes no effort still does much better with women than I do, or maybe I was just totally totally grossed out. He is homeless, but he might have had a place to stay that night. Hey, it's New York.
2) Subway Business
I figured I would tell you a second homeless person story, just so you get the full gamut of New York life. Again, I was just an observer, but the story struck a chord within me and I hope it does the same for you.
About a year ago, I was riding the subway to get from work to home, which is about a ten minute ride, and a man gets on the train with me. There are many other people on the train, but it is not crowded. The man sprawls out and makes a two person seat his own. I remember wondering whether the man was homeless, given that he was haggard with an unkempt blondish-brown beard and was wearing very ragged military garb. And while his elbows were leaning on his knees, he was poised and he could have just been exhibiting the common symptoms of a long day of hard work... or he could have been hunkering down for the night and establishing his rest stop. (I was standing opposite him, leaning on the subway door, probably because we've been told not to lean on the doors in both English and Spanish and I'm a rebel in both English and Spanish.) For the purposes of the story, I'll call the guy The Vet because of his clothes, not based on any additional information.
At the next stop, another man comes in who is far more haggard than the man sitting down and he quickly establishes his homelessness presence by beginning his routine requesting change (this guy was totally out of it, so his routine was weak.) As the homeless guy was passing, the Vet takes a dollar out of his pocket and puts it into the homeless guy's cup. I vaguely remember the Vet wishing the man luck, but that could be memory's natural hyperbole. This should resolve the question about whether the Vet is homeless, right? As the train pulls into the next station, another man enters the car and he also appears unnaturally weathered by life. This man goes straight into his financial request without any routine. But I will call him The Talker.
Right away, the Talker confronts the Vet and asks him for money. Rather than deny him outright, the Vet explains that he can't give out money because he just gave another homeless man a dollar. The Talker does a quick double take and re-asks the Vet if he could also have a dollar considering the Vet gave the other man a dollar. The Vet responds that he was out of money because he too "works the trains." The Talker becomes intrigued (as do I). The Vet responds to the unasked question, and I'll paraphrase "this morning, a woman opened up her wallet to me and just gave me everything in it. It was $73 and I shared it with whoever asked. Now, I'm out." The Talker befuddled, responds "if it were me, I would keep it." The Vet explains, "I had to share it cause if I didn't, I would use it on my vices."
Let that sink in. "I had to share it cause if I didn't, I would use it on my vices."
The Talker continues to question the Vet, but I could not hear all of their conversation because of the roar of the trains, but I did get to see the Talker display his interest in the Vet's tale by swinging back and forth on a pole; it was more of a sway, then a dance, but it was certainly elaborate.
Then... I heard the following,
The Talker: "where do you stay?"
The Vet: "St. [gargled] Place. The people are good over there."
The Talker: "I'm there too."
The Vet: "You probably know my wife, Margaret, dirty blonde hair..." [Not sure it was Margaret, but it was something like Margaret.]
The Talker interrupts: "Sure I know her, she's so nice."
The Vet: "Yeah, she's friendly. She's actually working this train two cars down."
The Talker is baffled, probably putting the sorted pieces together as quickly as I am, that this guy is giving away his money, while his wife is collecting money, but ignores it.
The Talker: "Cool. I'll say hi to her when I work my way over there."
The Vet: "Yeah, we really have to spread out more because some of these trains are too crowded with us and others lines don't have any of us working."
It was at this point, that I had to leave the train, even though I was riveted by the conversation and fascinated by the social dynamics of the situation. I wanted to stay on or at least give the guy a $20 to see what he would do, but alas I did not. I played my part and I heard the tale and then I moved on affected, but unaltered. I have not seen either of those two guys since then, so I can make lots of assumptions about what happened to them, but I suppose the most logical assumption would be that he took his own advice and spread to a train line with less competition. So, that too is New York.
3) The Villain
My third and final New York tale for the day is a sordid one, and in this story, I am not a fly on the wall, but rather I am the villain. I was about 13 years old and had lived half of my life in Queens and the second half of my life on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. For those of you who don't know, NYC was salvaged by the 90's (I give a lot of credit to former Mayor Rudy Giuliani, even if you don't.) By 1993 the Upper West Side (at least the part near me) was part strong growth potential with Central Park and Lincoln Center and part deserted wasteland, which was everything else. But, since then, (and even today,) that portion of the Upper West Side was a place known for Bohemian middle class families who appreciate the finer Bohemian things. And one of the staples of the community is a grocery store that totally fits in with the neighborhood and possibly, (along with the aforementioned landmarks,) helped shape the neighborhood. That place is Fairway.
The prices are much better than those anywhere nearby and the quality of the food is good, but there is something sinister to Fairway. There is an undertone of cut-throated competitiveness. Even walking by the place during peak hours can put a person on edge. It is filled with people who want their high quality low-priced food so badly they would kill for it. Case in point: ME.
3) The Villain: Take 2
So, again, I am 13 years old and it is the first time I entered Fairway in years. I am with an uncle of mine who appreciates Fairway as much as anyone and once he entered the store ran towards the fish counter in the back of the store. I was more tentative. I was an awkward 13 year old and the unnecessary pressure of this atmosphere made me even more timid. So, people were cutting me left and right. I would not be exaggerating if I told you within one minute of being in that wretched haven, 20 people bumped into me hard, with reckless abandon and without remorse.
I tried to avoid people on my way to the back, but that did not work. By the time, I got there, my nerves were totally on edge, but still I tried to find a spot out of harm's way (and out of anyone's way.) There was no such spot. So, people pushed me and pulled me and bumped me, until my uncle was finally at the front of the line reading his rather large order.
I turned around and my turn knocked an old lady down.
The lady looked at me with disgust, but surprisingly nobody else missed a beat. Bystanders stepped over her with supernatural dexterity and unparalleled determination. As the lady worked her way back up to try to cut me in the fish line, (which I was not even on,) only one thought ran through my head...
"And stay down!"
I did not say it, but I definitely thought it. She was spry and was on her feet in no time, before I could fight my way through five inches worth of people to get to her. Obviously she was much more upset about having to wait an extra 30 seconds on line, then the fact that she was knocked down. She lost that battle with me and that pissed her off even more at herself (and me). I, on the other hand, for a moment, remembered that I was not actually in a human jungle and announced to my uncle, "I'll wait outside."
So that's Fairway- the top quality product, but you have to fight tooth and nail for anything, but that's New York.
As an epilogue to that story, my cousin, the son of that uncle wrote a short story for school as if he was the person who knocked the old lady down. I believe his story was more graphic, but mine happened to me. But, it's Fairway and it would not surprise if this sort of thing happened every week or if he just liked the story and used it. But, that's New York too, people take everything from you here.
So, what have we learned from this blog post?
A) I weave myself into all of my stories.
B) NY is filled with homeless people.
C) Segments of the homeless populace live full lives whether it's making out with girls at bars or having a wife and a panhandling business plan.
D) NY can make you cold and unfeeling.
E) NY is very concerned with the state of itself. Philadelphia and Boston have inferiority complexes. They think: "See we are better than NY at [insert something here.]"
But NY does not care about those cities, and instead looks at a mirror and thinks, "I guess I could use a Walmart, but would it make me look fat?"
Alas, I'm probably going to live here for the rest of my life or at least until I move out of here.
Don't get me wrong. I love NY, my parents are here, my grandfather is here, my aunts and uncles and cousins are here, most of my friends are here, my life is here, but I got to get out of this town. If only I could live on a farm (without any of those pesky animals or plants)... in the middle of Manhattan. Despite these tales of woe, the depravity, the vermin, the assorted odors, the lack of space, the over-crowding, the noise pollution, the pollution pollution, the crazies and some really bad things, it's the best goshdarn town in the whole world.
Hope you enjoyed our tour of my homeland,
The Papa Bear (ME)
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Image Everything
About a year ago, I bought my first camera. It was a canon. About 2 months ago, I lost that camera and bought a new camera. It was a canon. I asked the people at the counter at the Best Buy for which product was best, but really, I watch a tremendous amount of TV and I am an advertisers dream. I buy products I've heard of. I buy products I remember - I'd heard of kodak and I know some other companies that make cameras, but don't specialize in them, so I opted for the one whose slogan I remembered from 10 years ago.
Image is everything.
About 4 months ago, I quoted the same slogan in my best man toast at my brother's wedding. Image is everything. As far as I can tell, it worked with my theme, it worked for my brother and it connected with the audience.
Why did I remember this? Because as far as I can tell, Agassi did to Canon what Jordan did to Nike. He took a solid company and by virtue of one celebrity's image transformed it into a dominant company in the industry. He was that powerful a sports figure, even though he only played tennis, not one of the big 4 sports in the United States and not even soccer. Frankly, tennis does not have close to the financial impact that golf does, as suggested by the yearly salaries of Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson. And it does not have the same mass appeal that driving fast does in the United States or abroad. He played tennis.
We all know from his recent retirement that Agassi has done a lot of good important philanthropic work over the past 15 years. We all know that he was married to Brooke Shields and after they got divorced he wed tennis overlord Steffie Graff. We all know that he started off as a "rebel" with incredible tennis skill and then went through a slump, and just when the last of his supporters was beginning to think his career had winded down, he transformed into the hardest working gritty tennis player around and made a legendary resurgence. We all know that he had a storied rivalry with fellow U.S. tennis superstar and his seeming opposite Pete Sampras. But, what we did not know could fill a frighteningly large book.
So, he wrote it. People talk about the drugs and the hair and the depression and the lifts and the tennis-hatred, but they are missing the point... the drugs. Okay, so they are not missing the point. But, to be fair, it kind of all makes sense- mostly. Here's a guy who hates tennis, so he defies it. He keeps hating tennis, so he turns to drugs. He hates the attention, but he coddles it by marrying a star. He is incredibly insecure, so he embraces youth conventions. It does not make total sense, but it's not far-fetched either.
Do I believe it? Absolutely. It's pretty self-incriminating and self-deprecating without being funny at all. The better question is why did he tell it and the better question is what reaction did he expect?
Let's start with the better question. Does Agassi need the money? It's possible that years of living like a rock star on an athlete's salary (which was not a salary and was sizeable plus endorsements) for so many years has left him without funds to amply support his growing family. But, Graff made some loot too. Is it possible that his charitable works, in particular his Vegas school project has tapped him dry? Doubtful, but possible. Is it possible that it is an elaborate ploy to make more money, with which he can contribute to his charities? Yes. But, there had to be an easier way.
So, while the money probably contributed to his decision, the fact that he could have made the same amount of money from going around the country giving speeches, it was probably not the prime mover. There are a myriad of possibilities, but in my head, I have narrowed down my search into three main categories: inspiration, catharsis and vanity.
I'd like to rule out inspiration because while he may have inspired drug addicts, he simultaneously may have lost a tremendous amount of fans who are disillusioned by the drug use. He is no longer the story about what you can achieve if you work hard, his is the story about what you can achieve if you don't care. And even though I will discuss that Agassi had drastically underestimated the impact of his revelations, he is not stupid and he must have understood that the narrative would change. He must have understood that not only would his name be associated with tennis legend, Gen X hero, comeback story, celebrity prince, but he would also be crystal meth user. Parents don't tell your kids the tale of Andre Agassi, it's no Grimm's Fairy Tale, cause this is real and scary. So, while the thought of inspiring young drug addicts probably entered his head, he probably did not write this book primarily for them.
I'd like to rule out catharsis too because he basically made his death bed confessions in the prime of his life while he is seemingly happily married and enjoying his family and his place in the world, but I can't do that. I would have to know more about him or at least read the book to figure out how much of what he did was for his own spiritual gratification. They say the truth shall set you free. And while, sometimes that is more than true, sometimes the truth can get you thrown in jail (by the way, I am not taking a position about whether or not there is a criminal culpability here, despite my legal knowledge because I do not know where he committed these actions and while the statute of limitations surely passed, there are potential tolling based on extra-jurisdictional exceptions (i.e. when you are outside of a state, the clock on the statute of limitations may temporarily stop.) And, I'm not going to make this into a political policy decision about whether we should lighten the criminality of drug-use, which can alternately be characterized as a personal weakness, an addiction, a disease, a symptom of a disease, etc.) Moreover, the truth can imprison others. That is why when a person commits a single marital indiscretion, they are often counseled by their spouse's loved ones not to reveal their error. Agassi was cheating on us... with drugs. Maybe he shouldn't have told us. (I take no position on this issue either.) And while the truth shall set you free, ignorance is bliss.
So again, I can't really speak to how cathartic the experience was for the man, not only sharing his intimate flaws with his loved ones, but sharing it with the whole world. So, I will discount the theory not based on my understanding, but based on convenience because it does not serve my purposes.
So, that only leaves one possibility. Vanity. How can it be vain for a person to confess his insecurities about his baldness, his height, his hard-drug use when his image is at its apex and it will obviously diminish from these stories. Vanity. Agassi has a complex relationship with the media and with his celebrity. He often shuns it, but he often nurtures it. Agassi like many celebrities does not want to be hounded about his daily bowel movements, but nor does he want to be irrelevant or a relic. Ad Agassi is famously good at adapting his celebrity from his choice of partners, to his stylistic flair to his extravagant hairstyles and even to his level of effort on the tennis court. And now, Agassi has adapted.
He adapted from his youth to his adulthood with his change of hairstyle. He adapted from his immaturity to his maturity with his change of wife (no disrespect to Shields, but that marriage from my limited understanding seemed like a bit of a PR stunt). And now, he's adapting from old to new celebrity by moving from the 90's maverick to the 00's reality star. People want to see the foibles of their new celebrities and Agassi is willing be the much maligned Jon or Kate to be relevant. He is willing to be Puck to be important. He is willing to be the vilified Richard Hatch and bare it all to be the celebrity Survivor (how about those dated references). So, Agassi, who was about to settle into a relatively quiet life in Nevada made a comeback... yet again.
Well, this brings us to our second question- what did he expect? Sure, Martina Navratilova's reaction that Agassi is like Clemens is not only bizarre, but also inaccurate. Crystal meth is by my understanding, not a performance enhancing drug like steroids or speed or cocaine. Those drugs allow you to train harder, build muscle mass, or in the case of Lawrence Taylor frighten the adversary into the fetal position. From my understanding, a drug like crystal meth is more along the lines of heroin (from watching Breaking Bad,) which gives you the added ability to pass out while pissing yourself. Not so heroic now, are you Andre? But, now instead of heroism or achievement making you a celebrity, becoming a celebrity makes you a hero and the act of becoming a celebrity is the achievement. Agassi gets it. He was a hero back in the day by defying the man and still winning. Then, he became an adult hero by showing up to work every day, working hard and triumphing over the odds and over the younger crowd. Now, he is becoming the newer kind of hero because he is staying famous and he will soil his name however he has to make it so. But, I digress.
Okay, so he could not have expected people to compare him to Clemens (it's also funny that comparing an athlete to one of the greatest pitchers of all time is an insult). And though she tried to make the issue about lying, lying to a sporting body is hardly a high crime. Moreover, most people tell white lies all the time. It is more than likely that closeted athletes are even until this day lying to the general public about their sexual exploits for fear of the truth's unfortunate reprisals. So, Martina, was it because it was an official response, was it because of the nature of the lie or was it because of something I'm missing. An official response theory makes some sense because when caught we want people to fall on their swords. But, that is not what happens. In fact, in probably near half the criminal cases in the country, people begin by pleading not guilty, then if they are placed into a tight corner, they change their plea. That is not what happened here. Here, he pled not guilty, he was exonerated and then he confessed (possibly out of feeling guilty or remorse (unless it was out of gloating, but that does not seem to be the case)). While, it is not as honorable as never having committed the crime and not even as honorable as falling on his sword (which would probably have resulted in a suspension, a slap on the wrist and/or rehab/testing out of concern for Agassi's well being), it is more honorable than getting away with it (and not feeling remorse) or changing your story when you have no choice. However you feel about it, he could have handled it in a worse way, so he's not evil for his lying. As discussed above, the nature of the lie was about a drug that was harmful to himself and not particularly harmful to others (unless you consider the wider effects of drugs in our culture) and did not help him in tennis. So, I must be missing something.
But, what about Federer or Nadal or Safin? Could he have expected that there would be calls that he should give back his money and his titles? Yes. He didn't, but he should have considered a legitimate possibility. These are intensely competitive people in a field where Agassi was glorified for almost everything he did. They are trying to protect the integrity of a sport that is dogged by shocking scandals and a filthy lint-filled, puss-infected underbelly, which most casual fans remain blissfully ignorant of (including throwing games, gambling, mafia involvement to say the least.) Tennis is like the boxing of sports (that did not come out right.) Sure, they are overreacting, but it's not unexpected that some people would overreact.
What is more surprising is Agassi's rebuttal, which Katie Couric's softball questions laid bare. It's unclear whether it was Agassi's expectation or his hope, but Agassi asked for compassion. That's not how compassion works. It's not delivered upon request. If he had fallen on his sword in full remorse, there would have been a large group of people who leant out their hands. Instead, he kept stressing that it was a "recreational drug" like it's a drug you might use while playing tennis. He said, have compassion for me cause I had problems. He wanted sympathy. He wanted the world to feel sorry for him. I understand, Andre, you had a rough childhood, you worked really hard, you hated your job and you were in an unhappy marriage. We all get it. Most people have some if not all of these problems and still most people avoid crystal meth. People make mistakes and other people are more than willing to forgive those mistakes, but don't ask me for compassion. You're akin to the homeless guy that asks you for money and tries to make you feel bad that you didn't give it. It's my compassion and I get to dole it out as I please. I worked hard for this compassion.
But, the truth is, the guy was my brother's idol growing up and while I was a Michael Chang man in tennis (and preferred Pete Sampras,) my brother's adoration had a profound impact on me. I admired his life change ten years ago and I now acknowledge that his change is all the greater in that he also secretly gave up drugs to make his first comeback. And this is hard for me to say because I'm incredibly self-righteous and judgmental, (just ask anyone that knows me,) I also acknowledge that I'm incredibly flawed and make countless mistakes for which I could use forgiveness, so I am in no position to judge. Thus, while I might not give Agassi all the compassion he is looking for, I do give him some spare compassion.
After all, he is the one that brought me and my camera together. And in the last year or so, I have taken something like 3000 pictures, so that I can document my own life and my own faults. And I put my life on facebook and blogs without a thousandth of the candidness that Agassi probably did. But, to be fair, I'm heeding Agassi's immortal advice and I'm crafting my own image. So, thank you Andre Agassi and for what it's worth, I don't think they should strip you of your winnings or your titles, but I do think this has done a substantial amount to strip you of your dignity. And from what I gathered so far, this book is really another unbelievable return.
Don't call it a comeback,
The Papa Bear
Image is everything.
About 4 months ago, I quoted the same slogan in my best man toast at my brother's wedding. Image is everything. As far as I can tell, it worked with my theme, it worked for my brother and it connected with the audience.
Why did I remember this? Because as far as I can tell, Agassi did to Canon what Jordan did to Nike. He took a solid company and by virtue of one celebrity's image transformed it into a dominant company in the industry. He was that powerful a sports figure, even though he only played tennis, not one of the big 4 sports in the United States and not even soccer. Frankly, tennis does not have close to the financial impact that golf does, as suggested by the yearly salaries of Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson. And it does not have the same mass appeal that driving fast does in the United States or abroad. He played tennis.
We all know from his recent retirement that Agassi has done a lot of good important philanthropic work over the past 15 years. We all know that he was married to Brooke Shields and after they got divorced he wed tennis overlord Steffie Graff. We all know that he started off as a "rebel" with incredible tennis skill and then went through a slump, and just when the last of his supporters was beginning to think his career had winded down, he transformed into the hardest working gritty tennis player around and made a legendary resurgence. We all know that he had a storied rivalry with fellow U.S. tennis superstar and his seeming opposite Pete Sampras. But, what we did not know could fill a frighteningly large book.
So, he wrote it. People talk about the drugs and the hair and the depression and the lifts and the tennis-hatred, but they are missing the point... the drugs. Okay, so they are not missing the point. But, to be fair, it kind of all makes sense- mostly. Here's a guy who hates tennis, so he defies it. He keeps hating tennis, so he turns to drugs. He hates the attention, but he coddles it by marrying a star. He is incredibly insecure, so he embraces youth conventions. It does not make total sense, but it's not far-fetched either.
Do I believe it? Absolutely. It's pretty self-incriminating and self-deprecating without being funny at all. The better question is why did he tell it and the better question is what reaction did he expect?
Let's start with the better question. Does Agassi need the money? It's possible that years of living like a rock star on an athlete's salary (which was not a salary and was sizeable plus endorsements) for so many years has left him without funds to amply support his growing family. But, Graff made some loot too. Is it possible that his charitable works, in particular his Vegas school project has tapped him dry? Doubtful, but possible. Is it possible that it is an elaborate ploy to make more money, with which he can contribute to his charities? Yes. But, there had to be an easier way.
So, while the money probably contributed to his decision, the fact that he could have made the same amount of money from going around the country giving speeches, it was probably not the prime mover. There are a myriad of possibilities, but in my head, I have narrowed down my search into three main categories: inspiration, catharsis and vanity.
I'd like to rule out inspiration because while he may have inspired drug addicts, he simultaneously may have lost a tremendous amount of fans who are disillusioned by the drug use. He is no longer the story about what you can achieve if you work hard, his is the story about what you can achieve if you don't care. And even though I will discuss that Agassi had drastically underestimated the impact of his revelations, he is not stupid and he must have understood that the narrative would change. He must have understood that not only would his name be associated with tennis legend, Gen X hero, comeback story, celebrity prince, but he would also be crystal meth user. Parents don't tell your kids the tale of Andre Agassi, it's no Grimm's Fairy Tale, cause this is real and scary. So, while the thought of inspiring young drug addicts probably entered his head, he probably did not write this book primarily for them.
I'd like to rule out catharsis too because he basically made his death bed confessions in the prime of his life while he is seemingly happily married and enjoying his family and his place in the world, but I can't do that. I would have to know more about him or at least read the book to figure out how much of what he did was for his own spiritual gratification. They say the truth shall set you free. And while, sometimes that is more than true, sometimes the truth can get you thrown in jail (by the way, I am not taking a position about whether or not there is a criminal culpability here, despite my legal knowledge because I do not know where he committed these actions and while the statute of limitations surely passed, there are potential tolling based on extra-jurisdictional exceptions (i.e. when you are outside of a state, the clock on the statute of limitations may temporarily stop.) And, I'm not going to make this into a political policy decision about whether we should lighten the criminality of drug-use, which can alternately be characterized as a personal weakness, an addiction, a disease, a symptom of a disease, etc.) Moreover, the truth can imprison others. That is why when a person commits a single marital indiscretion, they are often counseled by their spouse's loved ones not to reveal their error. Agassi was cheating on us... with drugs. Maybe he shouldn't have told us. (I take no position on this issue either.) And while the truth shall set you free, ignorance is bliss.
So again, I can't really speak to how cathartic the experience was for the man, not only sharing his intimate flaws with his loved ones, but sharing it with the whole world. So, I will discount the theory not based on my understanding, but based on convenience because it does not serve my purposes.
So, that only leaves one possibility. Vanity. How can it be vain for a person to confess his insecurities about his baldness, his height, his hard-drug use when his image is at its apex and it will obviously diminish from these stories. Vanity. Agassi has a complex relationship with the media and with his celebrity. He often shuns it, but he often nurtures it. Agassi like many celebrities does not want to be hounded about his daily bowel movements, but nor does he want to be irrelevant or a relic. Ad Agassi is famously good at adapting his celebrity from his choice of partners, to his stylistic flair to his extravagant hairstyles and even to his level of effort on the tennis court. And now, Agassi has adapted.
He adapted from his youth to his adulthood with his change of hairstyle. He adapted from his immaturity to his maturity with his change of wife (no disrespect to Shields, but that marriage from my limited understanding seemed like a bit of a PR stunt). And now, he's adapting from old to new celebrity by moving from the 90's maverick to the 00's reality star. People want to see the foibles of their new celebrities and Agassi is willing be the much maligned Jon or Kate to be relevant. He is willing to be Puck to be important. He is willing to be the vilified Richard Hatch and bare it all to be the celebrity Survivor (how about those dated references). So, Agassi, who was about to settle into a relatively quiet life in Nevada made a comeback... yet again.
Well, this brings us to our second question- what did he expect? Sure, Martina Navratilova's reaction that Agassi is like Clemens is not only bizarre, but also inaccurate. Crystal meth is by my understanding, not a performance enhancing drug like steroids or speed or cocaine. Those drugs allow you to train harder, build muscle mass, or in the case of Lawrence Taylor frighten the adversary into the fetal position. From my understanding, a drug like crystal meth is more along the lines of heroin (from watching Breaking Bad,) which gives you the added ability to pass out while pissing yourself. Not so heroic now, are you Andre? But, now instead of heroism or achievement making you a celebrity, becoming a celebrity makes you a hero and the act of becoming a celebrity is the achievement. Agassi gets it. He was a hero back in the day by defying the man and still winning. Then, he became an adult hero by showing up to work every day, working hard and triumphing over the odds and over the younger crowd. Now, he is becoming the newer kind of hero because he is staying famous and he will soil his name however he has to make it so. But, I digress.
Okay, so he could not have expected people to compare him to Clemens (it's also funny that comparing an athlete to one of the greatest pitchers of all time is an insult). And though she tried to make the issue about lying, lying to a sporting body is hardly a high crime. Moreover, most people tell white lies all the time. It is more than likely that closeted athletes are even until this day lying to the general public about their sexual exploits for fear of the truth's unfortunate reprisals. So, Martina, was it because it was an official response, was it because of the nature of the lie or was it because of something I'm missing. An official response theory makes some sense because when caught we want people to fall on their swords. But, that is not what happens. In fact, in probably near half the criminal cases in the country, people begin by pleading not guilty, then if they are placed into a tight corner, they change their plea. That is not what happened here. Here, he pled not guilty, he was exonerated and then he confessed (possibly out of feeling guilty or remorse (unless it was out of gloating, but that does not seem to be the case)). While, it is not as honorable as never having committed the crime and not even as honorable as falling on his sword (which would probably have resulted in a suspension, a slap on the wrist and/or rehab/testing out of concern for Agassi's well being), it is more honorable than getting away with it (and not feeling remorse) or changing your story when you have no choice. However you feel about it, he could have handled it in a worse way, so he's not evil for his lying. As discussed above, the nature of the lie was about a drug that was harmful to himself and not particularly harmful to others (unless you consider the wider effects of drugs in our culture) and did not help him in tennis. So, I must be missing something.
But, what about Federer or Nadal or Safin? Could he have expected that there would be calls that he should give back his money and his titles? Yes. He didn't, but he should have considered a legitimate possibility. These are intensely competitive people in a field where Agassi was glorified for almost everything he did. They are trying to protect the integrity of a sport that is dogged by shocking scandals and a filthy lint-filled, puss-infected underbelly, which most casual fans remain blissfully ignorant of (including throwing games, gambling, mafia involvement to say the least.) Tennis is like the boxing of sports (that did not come out right.) Sure, they are overreacting, but it's not unexpected that some people would overreact.
What is more surprising is Agassi's rebuttal, which Katie Couric's softball questions laid bare. It's unclear whether it was Agassi's expectation or his hope, but Agassi asked for compassion. That's not how compassion works. It's not delivered upon request. If he had fallen on his sword in full remorse, there would have been a large group of people who leant out their hands. Instead, he kept stressing that it was a "recreational drug" like it's a drug you might use while playing tennis. He said, have compassion for me cause I had problems. He wanted sympathy. He wanted the world to feel sorry for him. I understand, Andre, you had a rough childhood, you worked really hard, you hated your job and you were in an unhappy marriage. We all get it. Most people have some if not all of these problems and still most people avoid crystal meth. People make mistakes and other people are more than willing to forgive those mistakes, but don't ask me for compassion. You're akin to the homeless guy that asks you for money and tries to make you feel bad that you didn't give it. It's my compassion and I get to dole it out as I please. I worked hard for this compassion.
But, the truth is, the guy was my brother's idol growing up and while I was a Michael Chang man in tennis (and preferred Pete Sampras,) my brother's adoration had a profound impact on me. I admired his life change ten years ago and I now acknowledge that his change is all the greater in that he also secretly gave up drugs to make his first comeback. And this is hard for me to say because I'm incredibly self-righteous and judgmental, (just ask anyone that knows me,) I also acknowledge that I'm incredibly flawed and make countless mistakes for which I could use forgiveness, so I am in no position to judge. Thus, while I might not give Agassi all the compassion he is looking for, I do give him some spare compassion.
After all, he is the one that brought me and my camera together. And in the last year or so, I have taken something like 3000 pictures, so that I can document my own life and my own faults. And I put my life on facebook and blogs without a thousandth of the candidness that Agassi probably did. But, to be fair, I'm heeding Agassi's immortal advice and I'm crafting my own image. So, thank you Andre Agassi and for what it's worth, I don't think they should strip you of your winnings or your titles, but I do think this has done a substantial amount to strip you of your dignity. And from what I gathered so far, this book is really another unbelievable return.
Don't call it a comeback,
The Papa Bear
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