Andre Agassi Quotes

Remember this. Hold on to this. This is the only perfection there is, the perfection of helping others. This is the only thing we can do that has any lasting meaning. This is why we're here. To make each other feel safe.

Now that I've won a slam, I know something very few people on earth are permitted to know. A win doesn't feel as good as a loss feels bad, and the good feeling doesn't last long as the bad. Not even close.

What you feel doesn’t matter in the end; it’s what you do that makes you brave.

There’s a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired..

There are many ways of getting strong, sometimes talking is the best way.

It's no accident, I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it's all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It's our choice.

Even if it’s not your ideal life, you can always choose it. No matter what your life is, choosing it changes everything.

Life will throw everything but the kitchen sink in your path, and then it will throw the kitchen sink. It's your job to avoid the obstacles. If you let them stop you or distract you, you're not doing your job, and failing to do your job will cause regrets that paralyze you more than a bad back.

What makes something special is not just what you have to gain, but what you feel there is to lose.

To be inspired - that's the secret.

Hate brings me to my knees, love gets me on my feet.

How lovely it is to dream while you are awake.

Big dreams, are so damn tiring.

This is why we’re here. To fight through the pain and, when possible, to relieve the pain of others. So simple. So hard to see.

Older people make this mistake all the time with younger people, treating them as a finished product when in fact they are in process.

Few of us are granted the grace to know ourselves, and until we do, maybe the best we can do is be consistent.

Only boxers can understand the loneliness of tennis players - and yet boxers have their corner men and managers. Even a boxer's opponent provides a kind of companionship, someone he can grapple with and grunt at. In tennis you stand face-to-face with the enemy, trade blows with him, but never touch him or talk to him, or anyone else. The rules forbid a tennis player from even talking to his coach while on the court. People sometimes mention the track-and-field runner as a comparably lonely figure, but I have to laugh. At least the runner can feel and smell his opponents. They're inches away. In tennis you're on an island. Of all the games men and women play, tennis is the closest to solitary confinement....

Tennis is the loneliest sport

I tell the players: You'll hear a lot of applause in your life, fellas, but none will mean more to you than that applause-from your peers. I hope each of you hears that at the end.

Freed from the thoughts of winning, I instantly play better. I stop thinking, start feeling. My shots become a half-second quicker, my decisions become the product of instinct rather than logic.

I've been cheered by thousands, booed by thousands, but nothing feels as bad as the booing inside your own head during those ten minutes before you fall asleep.

I slide to my knees and say, "Please let this be over." Then, I'm not ready for it to be over.

No matter what your life is, choosing it changes everything.

If you don’t practice you don’t deserve to win.

Control what you can control.

A win doesn’t feel as good as a loss feels bad, and the good feeling doesn’t last as long as the bad. Not even close.

You know everything you need to know about people when you see their faces at the moments of your greatest triumph.

When you chase perfection, when you make perfection the ultimate goal, do you know what you’re doing? You’re chasing something that doesn’t exist. You’re making everyone around you miserable. You’re making yourself miserable. Perfection? There’s about five times a year you wake up perfect, when you can’t lose to anybody, but it’s not those five times a year that make a tennis player. Or a human being, for that matter. It’s the other times. It’s all about your head, man. -Brad Gilbert

I can’t promise you that you won’t be tired, he says. But please know this. There’s a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That’s where you’re going to know yourself. On the other side of tired.

great things begin at the end of the comfort zone. It is all about exploring the bleeding edge in your own time or with someone who will not judge you for it being beyond your comfort zone

How beautiful to dream. But dreams, I tell Gil, in one of our quiet moments are so damned tiring. He laughs. I can't promise you that you won't be tired, he says. But please know this. There's a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That's where you're going to know yourself. On the other side of tired.

Walking to the net, I'm certain that I've lost to the better man, the Everest of the next generation. I pity the young players who will have to contend with him. I feel for the man who is fated to play Agassi to his Sampras. Though I don't mention Pete by name, I have him uppermost in my mind when I tell reporters: It's real simple. Most people have weaknesses. Federer has none.

Gil’s philosophy in all things is to seek the pain, woo the pain, recognize that pain is life. If you’re heartbroken, Gil says, don’t hide from it. Wallow in it. We hurt, he says, so let’s hurt.

My father says that if I hit 2,500 balls each day, I’ll hit 17,500 balls each week, and at the end of one year I’ll have hit nearly one million balls. He believes in math. Numbers, he says, don’t lie. A child who hits one million balls each year will be unbeatable.

we must all care for one another—this is our task in life. But also we must care for ourselves, which means we must be careful in our decisions, careful in our relationships, careful in our statements. We must manage our lives carefully, in order to avoid becoming victims.

How lovely it is to dream while you are awake. Dream while you’re awake, Andre. Anybody can dream while they’re asleep, but you need to dream all the time, and say our dreams out loud, and believe in them.

... в коридорите на болниците разбираме какво означава животът.

You don’t have to be the best in the world every time you go out there. You just have to be better than one guy.

Soon the pain felt wonderful, almost sweet, because it was the kind that you can tell precedes relief. But maybe all pain is like that.

Andre, I won't ever try to change you, because I've never tried to change anybody. If I could change somebody, I'd change myself. But I know I can give you structure and a blueprint to achieve what you want. There's a difference between a plow horse and a racehorse. You don;t treat them the same. You hear all this talk about treating people equally, and I'm not sure equal means the same. As far as I'm concerned, you're a racehorse, and I'll always treat you accordingly. I'll be firm, but fair. I'll lead, never push. I'm not one of those people who expresses or articulates feelings very well, but from now on, just know this: It's on, man. It is on. You know what I'm saying? We're in a fight, and you can count on me until the last man is standing. Somewhere up there is a star with your name on it. I might not be able to help you find it, but I've got pretty strong shoulders, and you can stand on my shoulders while you're looking for that star. You hear? For as long as you want. Stand on my shoulders and reach, man. Reach.

I keep begging myself to stop, and I keep playing, and this gap, this contradiction between what I want to do and what I actually do, feels like the core of my life

We talk about things. We talk about nothing.

Quel che rende speciale qualcosa non è quel che si vince, ma quel che senti di poter perdere.

It's one of those showers that make you think you should write a check to several environmental groups – and maybe plant a tree.

He thinks it's his day, and when you think it's your day, it usually is.

Being Number Two Sucks.

Maybe I don't know yet how to be happy and play well at the same time.

I address the trophy and the warped reflection: All the pain and suffering you've caused me.

Also, now that I know roughly who I am, I want to close my eyes and hide from it.

some people are thermometers, some are thermostats. You’re a thermostat. You don’t register the temperature in a room, you change it.

We are like blocks of stone … blows of His chisel which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.

Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces—forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago. Decisions, especially bad ones, create their own kind of momentum, and momentum can be a bitch to stop, as every athlete knows.

Remember this. Hold on to this. This is the only perfection there is, the perfection of helping others. This is the only thing we can do that has any lasting value or meaning. This is why we’re here. To make each other feel safe.

Sex doesn't interfere with your tennis; it's staying out all night trying to find it that affects your tennis.

I've internalized my father- his impatience, his perfectionism, his rage. I no longer need my father to torture me. From this day on, I can do it all by myself.

No one ever asked me if I wanted to play tennis, let alone make it my life. My father decided long before I was born that I would be a professional tennis player.

I find it surreal, then perfectly normal. I'm struck by how fast the surreal becomes the norm. I marvel at how unexciting it is to be famous, how mundane famous people are. They're confused, uncertain, insecure, and often hate what they do. It's something we always hear - like that old adage that money can't buy happiness-but we never believe it until we see it ourselves. Seeing it in 1992 brings me a new measure of confidence.

Freed from thoughts of winning, I instantly play better. I stop thinking, stop feeling. My shots become a half-second quicker, my decisions become the product of instinct rather than logic.

Losing to Pete has caused me enormous pain, but in the long run it’s also made me more resilient. If I’d beaten Pete more often, or if he’d come along in a different generation, I’d have a better record, and I might go down as a better player, but I’d be less.

One cannot always tell what it is that keeps us shut in, confines us, seems to bury us, but still one feels certain barriers, certain gates, certain walls. Is all this imagination, fantasy? I do not think so. And then one asks: My God! Is it for long, is it for ever, is it for eternity? Do you know what frees one from this captivity? It is very deep serious affection. Being friends, being brothers, love, that is what opens the prison by supreme power, by some magic force. —Vincent van Gogh, letter to his brother, July 1880

Given all that lies beyond my control, I obsess about the few things I can control

Тенисът е самотна игра ... Няма къде да се скриеш, когато допуснеш грешка. Няма резервна скамейка, няма странична линия, няма неутрален ъгъл. На корта си сам и уязвим.

Колко е хубаво да имаш прекрасен сън наяве.

Spero di non arrivare mai al punto di pensare che alcune migliaia di dollari, in fondo, non sono poi molti soldi.

Ho attraversato una grande estate, poi ho perso quella partita. Mi ha spezzato il cuore. Non mi sono mai sentito così solo sul campo o più deluso dal gioco.

Il sesso non interferisce con il tuo livello di gioco; è stare fuori tutta la notte per riuscire ad ottenerlo che rovina il gioco!

That’s where you’re going to know yourself. On the other side of tired.

Figuring out your butterflies, deciphering what they say about the status of your mind and body, is the first step to making them work for you.

I had moments of my actions and words not reflecting who it is I am - if that defines a punk, then yes, absolutely.

Hitting a ball dead perfect - the only peace.

He says nothing. Not because he disagrees, or disapproves, but because he’s crying. Faintly I hear my father sniffling and wiping away tears, and I know he’s proud, just incapable of expressing it. I can’t fault the man for not knowing how to say what’s in his heart. It’s the family curse.

Feeling depressed after a loss is one thing, but feeling depressed about nothing, about life in general, is another thing altogether. The minds of the everlasting gods are not changed suddenly

This is the only perfection there is, the perfection of helping others. This is the only thing we can do that has any lasting value or meaning. This is why we’re here. To make each other feel safe.

I go to New York City, the Tournament of Champions, a significant milestone because it’s a clash of the top players in the world. Once more I square off against Chang, who’s developed a bad habit since we last met. Every time he beats someone, he points to the sky. He thanks God—credits God—for the win, which offends me. That God should take sides in a tennis match, that God should side against me, that God should be in Chang’s box, feels ludicrous and insulting. I beat Chang and savor every blasphemous stroke.

Andre, he says, some people are thermometers, some are thermostats. You’re a thermostat. You don’t register the temperature in a room, you change it. So be confident, be yourself, take charge. Show her your essential self.

We’re in a fight, and you can count on me until the last man is standing. Somewhere up there is a star with your name on it. I might not be able to help you find it, but I’ve got pretty strong shoulders, and you can stand on my shoulders while you’re looking for that star. You hear? For as long as you want. Stand on my shoulders and reach, man. Reach.

As we were talking about our families, we got to talking about parenting teenagers and he [Andre Agassi] said something that really stuck with me: "We raise our children for about fourteen years, and then we just mitigate risk." We only have a dozen or so years to instill in our children the core values we hope will guide them through the rest of their lives. After that, our influence wanes and their independence blossoms. We never really ever stop parenting, but our years of intense influence eventually fade . . .

I've been let in on a dirty little secret: winning changes nothing. Now that I've won a slam, I know something that very few people on earth are permitted to know. A win doesn't feel as good as a loss feels bad, and the good feeling doesn't last as long as the bad. Not even close.

Qué lindo es sonar despierto, he says. How lovely it is to dream while you are awake. Dream while you are awake, Andre. Anybody can dream while they're asleep, but you need to dream all the time, and say your dreams out loud, and believe in them. In other words, when in the final of a slam, I must dream. I must play to win.

Ho la sensazione di essere stato messo a parte di un piccolo, ignobile segreto – vincere non cambia niente. Adesso che ho vinto uno slam, so qualcosa che a pochissimi al mondo è concesso sapere. Una vittoria non è così piacevole quant’è dolorosa una sconfitta. E ciò che provi dopo aver vinto non dura altrettanto a lungo. Nemmeno lontanamente.

Fu davvero una grande cosa per me, perché il tennis è uno sport così solitario ed essere in grado di giocare per qualcun altro, per qualcos'altro, per qualcosa più grande di te ma comunque in relazione con te, è un grande senso di soddisfazione... e per me giocare per il mio Paese e, ancor più importante, giocare per realizzare ciò che mio padre aveva sperato e che non era riuscito a realizzare nella sua esperienza olimpica... sentivo che stavo giocando per qualcosa più grande di me e l'avere lui lì era parte di questo.

The tennis bag is a lot like your heart—you have to know what’s in it at all times.

I can’t dwell on tomorrow any more than I can dwell on yesterday.

It might not be the right way to end our journey, but it's the best way possible

Pressure is how you know everything’s working,

every journey is important, and that no journey is impossible.

When I do something perfect, I enjoy a split second of sanity and calm.

Не проумявам удоволствието, което майка ми намира в реденето на пъзели. Целият този разпарчетосан хаос, цялата бъркотия, кат това може да успокоява?

Ciò che rende speciale qualcosa non è quel che si vince, ma quel che senti di poter perdere.

The most animated talks we have are about…things

There is a star up there with your name on it...reach man, reach.

...we start the year on the other side of the world, at the Australian Open, and then just chase the sun.

There’s a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That’s where you’re going to know yourself. On the other side of tired.

I play and keep playing because I choose to play. Even if it’s not your ideal life, you can always choose it. No matter what your life is, choosing it changes everything.

Andre, he says, some people are thermometers, some are thermostats. You’re a thermostat. You don’t register the temperature in a room, you change it. So be confident, be yourself, take charge.

Tennis is the sport in which you talk to yourself. No athletes talk to themselves like tennis players. Pitchers, golfers, goalkeepers, they mutter to themselves, of course, but tennis players talk to themselves—and answer. In the heat of a match, tennis players look like lunatics in a public square, ranting and swearing and conducting Lincoln-Douglas debates with their alter egos. Why? Because tennis is so damned lonely. Only boxers can understand the loneliness of tennis players—and yet boxers have their corner men and managers. Even a boxer’s opponent provides a kind of companionship, someone he can grapple with and grunt at. In tennis you stand face-to-face with the enemy, trade blows with him, but never touch him or talk to him, or anyone else. The rules forbid a tennis player from even talking to his coach while on the court. People sometimes mention the track-and-field runner as a comparably lonely figure, but I have to laugh. At least the runner can feel and smell his opponents. They’re inches away. In tennis you’re on an island. Of all the games men and women play, tennis is the closest to solitary confinement, which inevitably leads to self-talk, and for me the self-talk starts here in the afternoon shower. This is when I begin to say things to myself, crazy things, over and over, until I believe them. For instance, that a quasi-cripple can compete at the U.S. Open. That a thirty-six-year-old man can beat an opponent just entering his prime. I’ve won 869 matches in my career, fifth on the all-time list, and many were won during the afternoon shower.

An engineer can’t design a successful structure without first carefully accounting for the forces of opposition (say, wind resistance or gravity). So engineers always attempt to solve problems by first identifying the obstacles to success. Now, studying behavior change, I began to understand the power and promise of applying this same strategy. It’s the very strategy that turned Andre Agassi’s tennis career around by helping him refocus on his opponents’ weaknesses.

Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it’s all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It’s our choice.

Ti alleni, viaggi e sgobbi per prepararti. Vinci per una settimana, quattro match di fila. (o due, settimane,sei match, se si tratta di uno slam). Poi perdi quell'ultimo incontro e il tuo nome non è sul trofeo, il tuo nome non è agli atti. Hai perso una sola volta, ma sei il perdente." da Open La mia storia

Be like gravity, man, just like motherfucking gravity. When you chase perfection, when you make perfection the ultimate goal, do you know what you’re doing? You’re chasing something that doesn’t exist. You’re making everyone around you miserable. You’re making yourself miserable. Perfection? There’s about five times a year you wake up perfect, when you can’t lose to anybody, but it’s not those five times a year that make a tennis player. Or a human being, for that matter. It’s the other times. It’s all about your head, man. With your talent, if you’re fifty percent game-wise, but ninety-five percent head-wise, you’re going to win. But if you’re ninety-five percent game-wise and fifty percent head-wise, you’re going to lose, lose, lose.

When you know that you just took the other guy’s best punch, and you’re still standing, and the other guy knows it, you will rip the heart right out of him. In tennis, he says, same rule. Attack the other man’s strength. If the man is a server, take away his serve. If he’s a power player, overpower him. If he has a big forehand, takes pride in his forehand, go after his forehand until he hates his forehand.

Тенисът неслучайно използва изрази, които описват и житейски ситуации. Преимущество, подаване, грешка, нарушение, пробив, нула, основните елементи в тениса са основни елементи и в живота, защото всеки мач е всъщност животът, представен в миниатюра. Дори структурата на тенис срещата, начинът, по който отделните елементи се вместват един в друг като кукли матрьошки, прилича на подредбата на дните ни. Точките се превръщат в геймове, геймовете се превръщат в сетове, които се превръщат в турнири, а елементите са така обвързани един с друг, че всяка точка може да се окаже повратна.

Tonight: I remind myself that it will require iron discipline to cope with these forces, and whatever else comes my way. Back pain, bad shots, foul weather, self-loathing. It’s a form of worry, this reminder, but also a meditation. One thing I’ve learned in twenty-nine years of playing tennis: Life will throw everything but the kitchen sink in your path, and then it will throw the kitchen sink. It’s your job to avoid the obstacles. If you let them stop you or distract you, you’re not doing your job, and failing to do your job will cause regrets that paralyze you more than a bad back.

It’s no accident, I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it’s all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It’s our choice. But

The worse I do in school, the more I rebel. I drink, I smoke pot, I act like an ass. I’m dimly aware of the inverse ratio between my grades and my rebellion, but I don’t dwell on it. I prefer Nick’s theory. He says I don’t do well in school because I have a hard-on for the world. It might be the only thing he’s ever said about me that’s halfway accurate. (He typically describes me as a cocky showboater who seeks the limelight. Even my father knows me better than that.) My general demeanor does feel like a hard-on—violent, involuntary, unstoppable—and so I accept it as I accept the many changes in my body.

The finish line at the end of a career is no different from the finish line at the end of a match. The objective is to get within reach of that finish line, because then it gives off a magnetic force. When you’re close, you can feel that force pulling you, and you can use that force to get across. But just before you come within range, or just after, you feel another force, equally strong, pushing you away. It’s inexplicable, mystical, these twin forces, these contradictory energies, but they both exist. I know, because I’ve spent much of my life seeking the one, fighting the other, and sometimes I’ve been stuck, suspended, bounced like a tennis ball between the two.

The day after I turn pro, Philly gets a call from Nike. They want to meet with me about an endorsement deal. Philly and I meet the Nike man in Newport beach, at a restaurant called the Rusty Pelican. His name is Ian Hamilton. I call him Mr. Hamilton, but he says I should call him Ian. He smiles in a way that makes me trust him instantly. Philly, however, remains wary. Boys, Ian says, I think Andre has a very bright future. Thank you. I'd like Nike to be a part of that future, to be a partner in that future. Thank you. I'd like to offer you a two-year contract. Thank you. During which time Nike will provide all your gear, and pay you $20,ooo. For both years? For eacvh year. Ah. Philly jumps in. What would Andre have to do in exchange for this money? Ian looks confused. Well, he says, Andre would have to do what Andre has been doing, son. Keep being Andre. And wear Nike stuff.

He doesn’t know the value of letting the other guy lose.

And yet. Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces—forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago. Decisions, especially bad ones, create their own kind of momentum,

After years of hearing my father rant at my flaws, one loss has caused me to take up his rant. I’ve internalized my father—his impatience, his perfectionism, his rage—until his voice doesn’t just feel like my own, it is my own. I no longer need my father to torture me. From this day on, I can do it all by myself.

tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence,

Weak legs command, Gil says. Strong legs obey.

Brooke asks why I didn't just quit. Because it's the Summer of Revenge.

This is the only perfection there is, the perfection of helping others. This is the only thing we can do that had any lasting value or meaning. This is why we’re here. To make each other feel safe.

But if tennis is life, then what follows tennis must be the unknowable void. The thought makes me cold.

When they hand me the trophy I think about vomiting into it

Many of you, I'm sure, don't like your jobs. But imagine if someone told you right now that your story about me would be your last. After this, you'll never be able to write another word for as long as you live. How would you feel?

If only I could play soccer instead of tennis. I don’t like sports, but if I must play a sport to please my father, I’d much rather play soccer. I get to play three times a week at school, and I love running the soccer field with the wind in my hair, calling for the ball, knowing the world won’t end if I don’t score. The fate of my father, of my family, of planet earth, doesn’t rest on my shoulders. If my team doesn’t win, it will be the whole team’s fault, and no one will yell in my ear. Team sports, I decide, are the way to go.

In the middle of the tournament I turn eighteen. The tournament director rolls a cake out to center court, and everyone sings. I’ve never liked birthdays. No one ever took note of my birthday when I was growing up. But this feels different. I’m legal, everyone keeps saying. In the eyes of the law, you’re a grown-up. Then the law is an ass.

But my eyelids are heavy. I fight to keep them open, fight as always the loss of control, which feels like the ultimate loss of choice.

I find peace in his claim that perfectionism is voluntary. Perfectionism is something I chose, and it’s ruining me, and I can choose something else. I must choose something else.

everyone on my team says I’m destined to kick him off the top of that vaunted mountain. I tell them that tennis has nothing to do with destiny. Destiny has better things to do than count ATP points.

I stand and feel an overpowering urge to forgive, because I realize that my father can’t help himself, that he never could help himself, any more than he could understand himself. My father is what he is, and always will be, and though he can’t help himself, though he can’t tell the difference between loving me and loving tennis, it’s love all the same. Few of us are granted the grace to know ourselves, and until we do, maybe the best we can do is be consistent. My father is nothing if not consistent.

Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces—forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago. Decisions, especially bad ones, create their own kind of momentum, and momentum can be a bitch to stop, as every athlete knows. Even when we vow to change, even when we sorrow and atone for our mistakes, the momentum of our past keeps carrying us down the wrong road. Momentum rules the world. Momentum says: Hold on, not so fast, I’m still running things here. As a friend likes to say, quoting an old Greek poem: The minds of the everlasting gods are not changed suddenly.

Transformation is change from one thing to another, but I started as nothing. I didn’t transform, I formed. When I broke into tennis, I was like most kids: I didn’t know who I was, and I rebelled at being told by older people. I think older people make this mistake all the time with younger people, treating them as finished products when in fact they’re in process. It’s like judging a match before it’s over, and I’ve come from behind too often, and had too many opponents come roaring back against me, to think that’s a good idea.

Life is a tennis match between polar opposites. Winning and losing, love and hate, open and closed. It helps to recognize that painful fact early. Then recognize the polar opposites within yourself, and if you can’t embrace them, or reconcile them, at least accept them and move on.

Maybe they’re confused because I don’t tell them the full story, don’t explain my full motivation. I can’t, since I’m only slowly becoming aware of it myself. I play and keep playing because I choose to play. Even if it’s not your ideal life, you can always choose it. No matter what your life is, choosing it changes everything.

Controle aquilo que você pode controlar.

Dicono che mi voglio distinguere. In realtà - come il taglio da moicano - sto cercando di nascondermi. Dicono che cerco di cambiare il tennis. In realtà sto tentando di evitare che il tennis cambi me. Mi definiscono un ribelle, ma non ci tengo ad essere un ribelle, sto solo cercando di portare avanti una normale, quotidiana ribellione adolescenziale. Distinzioni sottili, ma importanti. In sostanza, non faccio altro che essere me stesso e poichè non so chi sono, i miei tentativi di scoprirlo sono maldestri e fatti a casaccio - e, ovviamente, contraddittori.

I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it’s all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It’s our choice.

I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature. Even the structure of tennis, the way the pieces fit inside one another like Russian nesting dolls, mimics the structure of our days. Points become games become sets become tournaments, and it’s all so tightly connected that any point can become the turning point. It reminds me of the way seconds become minutes become hours, and any hour can be our finest. Or darkest. It’s our choice. But if tennis is life, then what follows tennis must be the unknowable void. The thought makes me cold.

What'd you do that for? I know it's a killer shot, but every shot doesn't have to be killer. Sometimes the best shot is a holding shot, an OK shot, a shot that gives the other guy a chance to miss. Let the other guy play ... I find peace in his claim that perfectionism is voluntary. Perfectionism is something I chose, and it's ruining me, and I can choose something else. I must choose something else. Noe one has ever said this to me.

After dinner Mandela stands and gives a stirring talk. His theme: we must all care for one another - this is our task in life. But also we must care for ourselves, which means we must be careful in our decisions, careful in our relationships, careful in our statements. We must manage our lives carefully, in order to avoid becoming victims. I feel as if he's speaking directly to me, as if he's aware that I've been careless with my talent and my health.

I stand and feel an overpowering urge to forgive, because I realize that my father can't help himself, that he never could help himself, any more than he could understand himself. My father is what he is, and always will be, and though he can't help himself, though he can't tell the difference between loving me and loving tennis, it's love all the same. Few of us are granted the grace to know ourselves, and until we do, maybe the best we can do is be consistent. My father is nothing if not consistent

Qué lindo es soñar despierto, he says. How lovely it is to dream while you are awake. Dream while you're awake, Andrew. Anybody can dream while they're asleep, but you need to dream all the time, and say your dreams out loud, and believe in them. In other words, when in the final of a slam, I must dream. I must play to win.

Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces - forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago. Decisions, especially bad ones, create their own kind of momentum, and momentum can be a bitch to stop, as every athlete knows. Even when we vow to change, even when we sorrow and atone for our mistakes, the momentum of our past keeps carrying us down the wrong road. Momentum rules the world.

A ball feels different off every player's racket-there are minute but concrete subtleties of force and spin. Now, hitting with her (Steffi Graf), I feel her subtleties. It's like touching her, though we're forty feet apart. Every forehand is foreplay.

There is nuance now, subtext, body language, and pheromones.

Standing at the bathroom mirror, toweling off, I stare at my face. Red eyes, gray stubble—a face totally different from the one with which I started. But also different from the one I saw last year in this same mirror. Whoever I might be, I’m not the boy who started this odyssey, and I’m not even the man who announced three months ago that the odyssey was coming to an end. I’m like a tennis racket on which I’ve replaced the grip four times and the strings seven times—is it accurate to call it the same racket?

ver trabajar a un artesano me calma, me ancla en la tierra, me inspira. Me recuerda la extraordinaria importancia que en este mundo tiene el trabajo bien hecho.

WARMING UP BEFORE THE MATCH, I pray. Not for a win, but for my hairpiece to stay on.

A pochi di noi è concessa la grazia di conoscere se stessi, e finché non ci riusciamo, la cosa migliore che possiamo fare è essere coerenti.

You can't ask my father anything directly. So I file it away with all the other things I don't know about my parents - permanently missing pieces in the jigsaw puzzle that is me.

Life will throw everything but the kitchen sink in your path, and then it will throw the kitchen sink. It’s your job to avoid the obstacles. If you let them stop you or distract you, you’re not doing your job, and failing to do your job will cause regrets that paralyze you more than a bad back.

I just don’t trust surgeons. I trust very few people, and I especially dislike the notion of trusting one perfect stranger, surrendering all control to one person whom I’ve only just met.

Voittamisen riemu on pienempi kuin häviämisen tuska, eikä hyvä tunne kestä yhtä kauaa kuin paha, ei läheskään.

Life will throw everything but the kitchen sink in your path, and then it will throw the kitchen sink.

I hate tennis.

My father says he doesn't like hawks because they swoop down on mice and other defenseless desert creatures. He can't stand the thought of something strong preying on something weak.

Andre, I won’t ever try to change you, because I’ve never tried to change anybody. If I could change somebody, I’d change myself. But I know I can give you structure and a blueprint to achieve what you want. There’s a difference between a plow horse and a racehorse. You don’t treat them the same. You hear all this talk about treating people equally, and I’m not sure equal means the same. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a racehorse, and I’ll always treat you accordingly. I’ll be firm, but fair. I’ll lead, never push. I’m not one of those people who expresses or articulates feelings very well, but from now on, just know this: It’s on, man. It is on. You know what I’m saying? We’re in a fight, and you can count on me until the last man is standing. Somewhere up there is a star with your name on it. I might not be able to help you find it, but I’ve got pretty strong shoulders, and you can stand on my shoulders while you’re looking for that star. You hear? For as long as you want. Stand on my shoulders and reach, man. Reach.

For me, that's the definition of being rich: it doesn't cross your mind to mention it to your best friend. And money is such a given you don't care how you come by it.

I stand and feel an overpowering urge to forgive, because I realize that my father can't help himself, that he never could help himself, any more than he could understand himself.

Frankie's chief virtue in my book is the way he talks about his kids.

Now that I’ve won a slam, I know something that very few people on earth are permitted to know. A win doesn’t feel as good as a loss feels bad, and the good feeling doesn’t last as long as the bad. Not even close.

Mi hanno chiesto spesso com'è questa vita da tennista, e non ho trovato mai la parola giusta per descriverla. Ma adesso mi sta venendo in mente. È, soprattutto, uno straziante, eccitante, orribile, sorprendente vortice. Esercita perfino una leggera forza centrifuga, che combatto da trent'anni. Adesso, sdraiato sul dorso sotto l'Arthur Ashe Stadium, tenendo per mano un avversario sconfitto e in attesa che qualcuno venga ad aiutarci, faccio l'unica cosa possibile. Smetto di opperre resistenza. Chiudo gli occhi e rimango a guardare.

I wish I could emulate his spectacular lack of inspiration, and his peculiar lack of need for inspiration.

And yet. Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces—forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago.

Le spun oamenilor că nu mă uit la programe sportive. Nu-mi plac. Cum adică? Adică, nu-mi place sportul. Ei râd. Adică nu-mi place niciun sport în afară de tenis? Nu, tenisul îl urăsc mai mult decât pe toate celelalte. Da, da, sigur că e o glumă. Nu ai cum să urăști tenisul. Ba da.

„Mă simt ca o rachetă de tenis la care ai schimbat grip-ul de patru ori și acordajul de șapte ori: putem să mai spunem că e ACEEAȘI rachetă de tenis? Undeva în ochii ăștia, în oglindă, îl mai pot zări, foarte vag, pe băiatul care nu a vrut niciodată să joace tenis, pe băiatul care voia să renunțe la tot, care a și renunțat de atâtea ori. Îl văd pe acel băiat blonduț care detesta tenisul și mă întreb ce ar zice el despre acest bărbat chel, care încă urăște tenisul, dar încă joacă? Ar fi șocat? Amuzat? Mândru? Dă Doamne să se termine totul odată. Doar că nu sunt pregătit să se termine totul

Chiar și structura tenisului – modul în care piesele se potrivesc unele într-altele, ca păpușile rusești – mimează tiparele vieții de zi cu zi. Punctele devin game-uri, care devin seturi, care devin turnee, totul fiind atât de interconectzat încât orice punct poate deveni punctul de cotitură al vieții tale. Secvența asta îmi amintește de modul în care secundele devin minute, care devin ore, iar fiecare oră poate fi cea mai minunată din viața noastră. Sau cea mai întunecată. E doar alegerea noastră. Dar dacă tenisul mimează viața, atunci ceea ce urmează după tenis este un vid necunoscut, un hău.

I know there are few children in the world who could have seen that ball, let alone hit it. But I take no pride in my reflexes, and I get no credit. It’s what I’m supposed to do. Every hit is expected, every miss a crisis.

Because you hate losing. And divorce is one tough loss.

Mandela said once in an interview: No matter where you are in life, there is always more journey ahead. And I think of one of Mandela’s favorite quotes, from the poem Invictus, which sustained him during those moments when he thought his journey had been cut short: I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

I don’t want to give voice to my problems, for fear of rousing them, making them pounce.

we must all care for one another—this is our task in life. But also we must care for ourselves, which means we must be careful in our decisions, careful in our relationships, careful in our statements. We must manage our lives carefully, in order to avoid becoming victims. I feel as if he’s speaking directly to me, as if he’s aware that I’ve been careless with my talent and my health.

and failing to do your job will cause regrets that paralyze you more than a bad back.

He tells me that for the past few years my mind has been a swamp- stagnant, fetid, seeping in every direction. Now it's time for my mind to be a river- raging, channeled, and therefore pure. p280

Gil likes to yell at me when I'm working out, but it's nothing like my father's yelling. Gil yells love. If I'm trying to set a new personal best, if I'm preparing to lift more than I've ever lifted, he stands in the background and yells, Come on, Andre! Let's go! Big Thunder! His yelling makes my heart club against my ribs. Then, for an added dash of inspiration, he'll sometimes tell me to step aside, and he'll lift his personal best- 550 lbs. It's an awesome sight to see a man put up that much iron above his chest, and it always make me think that anything is possible. How beautiful to dream. But dreams, I tell Gill, in one of our quiet moments, are so dam tiring. He laughs. I can't promise you that you won't be tired, he says. But please know this. There's a lot of good waiting for you on the other side of tired. Get yourself tired, Andre. That's where you're going to know yourself. On the other side of tired. p155

Me pregunto qué podría llegar a hacer en el tenis si tuviera acceso a esa rabia y fuera capaz de orientarla hacia el otro lado de la red. En cambio, lo que hago es dirigirla toda contra mí mismo.

Dice que él no tiene ninguna respuesta. Lo que ocurre, sencillamente, es que ha leído la Biblia muchas veces, del derecho y del revés, y que le gusta compartir con otras personas sus observaciones.

¿Te das cuenta, verdad, de que Dios no se parece en nada a tu padre? Eso lo sabes, ¿verdad? Estoy a punto de llevar el coche al arcén. Dios, dice, es lo contrario de tu padre. Dios no está siempre enfadado contigo. Dios no te grita al oído, no te mortifica con tus imperfecciones. Esa voz que oyes continuamente, esa voz airada… Ése no es Dios. Ése sigue siendo tu padre.

Pero, ¿y si resulta que estoy jugando lo mejor que sé, si me preocupo, si quiero ganar, y aun así no soy el mejor del mundo? Eso, dímelo tú. ¿Y si no lo eres? Creo que preferiría morir. Me apoyo en la barandilla y sollozo. J. P. tiene la decencia, la sabiduría de no decir ni hacer nada. Sabe que no hay nada que decir, salvo esperar a que se extinga el fuego.

Ya encontrarás una solución, me dice J. P. ¿Cómo? ¿Qué solución? No lo sé. Pero la encontrarás. Ésta es una crisis momentánea, Andre. Una de tantas. Y, tan seguro como que estamos aquí sentados, vendrán otras. Grandes, pequeñas y de todas las gamas intermedias. Enfréntate a esta crisis como una práctica para las crisis futuras.

he conocido a Gil, que está haciendo lo que se supone que hacen los padres: convertirme en una persona más fuerte.

Si buscas consejos, lo siento. Si buscas un amigo, tal vez sí pueda ayudarte.

Y me maravilla lo poco emocionante que es ser famoso, lo prosaica que es la gente famosa. Se trata de personas confundidas, inseguras, y que con frecuencia no soportan lo que hacen. Siempre se comenta –lo mismo que ese viejo dicho según el cual el dinero no da la felicidad– pero nunca lo creemos hasta que lo vemos con nuestros propios ojos.

I tell myself: Remember this. Hold on to this. This is the only perfection there is, the perfection of helping others. This is the only thing we can do that has any lasting value or meaning. This is why we’re here. To make each other feel safe.

I’m flattered by the imitators, embarrassed, thoroughly confused. I can’t imagine all these people trying to be like Andre Agassi, since I don’t want to be Andre Agassi.

Pride is bad, stress is good. I don't want to feel confident. I want to feel rage. Endless, all consuming rage.

Life will throw everything but the kitchen sink in your path, and then it will throw the kitchen sink. It’s your job to avoid the obstacles. If you let them stop you or distract you, you’re not doing your job, and failing to do your job will cause regrets that

In an interview after Wimbledon in 1992, former world number one tennis player Andre Agassi said that he learned something that only few people are aware of: the joy of victory isn’t nearly as strong as the despair you experience in defeat, and those happy feelings after winning are fleeting compared with how long you suffer from a crushing defeat.

He's telling himself, I was so close. I was there. The finish line! He's living in the past, and I'm in the present. He's thinking. I'm feeling. Don't thing, Andre. Hit harder.

He's telling himself, I was so close. I was there. The finish line! He's living in the past, and I'm in the present. He's thinking. I'm feeling. Don't think, Andre. Hit harder.

Only boxers can understand the loneliness of tennis players - and yet boxers have their corner men and managers. Even a boxer's opponent provides a kind of companionship, someone he can grapple with and grunt at. In tennis you stand face-to-face with the enemy, trade blows with him, but never touch him or talk to him, or anyone else

la mitad de las veces me ocurre a mí. Aunque ocupo una de las diez primeras posiciones del ranking mundial, hay días en que parezco un aficionado.

It's no accident, I think, that tennis uses the language of life. Advantage, service, fault, break, love, the basic elements of tennis are those of everyday existence, because every match is a life in miniature.

The label finally decided I needed media training after I did an interview with the CBS Early Show at the Arthur Ashe Kids’ Day, a concert that kicks off the U.S. Open every year in August. I have to admit that I did not know who Arthur Ashe was. Now I know he was one of the greatest tennis players in the world and the first African American man to win Wimbledon. When he came out as HIV positive in 1992, he created an impact that lasted long beyond his death a year later. But back then, I just showed up and sang where people told me to. 98 Degrees was going to perform, so I was excited to sing with Nick again. I barely knew who any of the tennis players were, even Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi. During the interview before the concert, the tennis players and us singers stood off-stage, and we were each asked what it meant to be there to celebrate Arthur Ashe’s impact. “I’m just so proud to be here and to give back,” I said, and then turned to Andre Agassi. “This is such a great event you put on.” Andre’s eyes widened in a look of “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Everyone, including the news crew, realized I thought Andre was Arthur Ashe. The late Arthur Ashe.

When you chase perfection, when you make perfection the ultimate goal, do you know what you're doing? You're chasing something that doesn't exist. You're making everyone around you miserable. You're making yourself miserable. Perfection? There's about five times a year you wake up perfect, when you can't lose to anybody, but it's not those five times a year that make a tennis player. Or a human being, for that matter. It's the other times. It's all about your head, man.

but nothing feels as bad as the booing inside your own head during those ten minutes before you fall asleep.

People, I think, don't understand the pain of losing in a final. You practice and travel and grind to get ready. You win for one week, four matches in a row. (Or, at a slam, two weeks, six matches.) Then you lose that final match and your name isn't on the trophy, your name isn't in the record books. You lost only once, but you're a loser.

My father likes to shoot the hawks with his rifle. Our house is blanketed with his victims, dead birds that cover the roof as thickly as tennis balls cover the court. My father says he doesn’t like hawks because they swoop down on mice and other defenseless desert creatures. He can’t stand the thought of something strong preying on something weak. (This also holds true when he goes fishing: whatever he catches, he kisses its scaly head and throws it back.) Of course he has no qualms about preying on me, no trouble watching me gasp for air on his hook. He doesn’t see the contradiction. He doesn’t care about contradictions. He doesn’t realize that I’m the most defenseless creature in this godforsaken desert. If he did realize, I wonder, would he treat me differently?

The essence of good discipline is respect. Respect for authority and respect for others. Respect for self and respect for rules. It is an attitude that begins at home, Is reinforced at school, And is applied throughout life.

People see my self-exploration as self-expression.

Also, several sportswriters muse about my transformation, and that word rankles. I think it misses the mark. Transformation is change from one thing to another, but I started as nothing. I didn’t transform, I formed. When I broke into tennis, I was like most kids: I didn’t know who I was, and I rebelled at being told by older people. I think older people make this mistake all the time with younger people, treating them as finished products when in fact they’re in process. It’s like judging a match before it’s over, and I’ve come from behind too often, and had too many opponents come roaring back against me, to think that’s a good idea.

nothing feels as bad as the booing inside your own head during those ten minutes before you fall asleep.

If he grows up to be half the man you are, he’ll be phenomenally successful, and if I can be half the father you’ve been to me, I’ll have surpassed my own standards.