Andre Agassi's Redemption
Watching
Katie Couric interview Andre Agassi on 60
Minutes this past Sunday was painful. Agassi
recently revealed his past drug use in his new
book, Open. His admission raises the question
once more for me about when and how does
someone find redemption in their life.
I have vivid memories of Agassi as a player. He always seemed to be living on the edge, pining for people’s attention through his unorthodox play, dress, even appearance. He was a fighter on the court. Now we know that he was fighting internal demons, too.
It was striking just how Agassi answered Couric’s intensely personal questions that probed and picked at his lifestyle, mental health, and drug use. But throughout Agassi never once blinked; he directly answered Couric’s questions, never seeking refuge to hide. What emerged over the course of the conversation was the sense that here is an individual who has taken the time to closely examine his life and account for his actions.
We’ve all seen someone in Agassi’s shoes sweat and stumble during such an interview and steer away from the knotty issues. Watch former presidential candidate John Edwards discuss his personal and political affairs and you’ll know what I mean. There is an intrinsic skittishness in someone like Edwards. With Agassi, on the other hand, you could feel him actually lean into each question, not run away from or dodge them. He seemed to gently surmise the essence of each question and then handle it with profound care. His engagement didn’t seem to be about selling a new book or manipulating some public relations gig; instead, he seems to be someone who is coming to terms with his life and making a choice about how to live it out.
During the interview Couric asked Agassi to respond to comments made by some of his fellow competitors and now friends – such as Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer, and Martina Navitrilova; each one was highly critical of him, damning in their criticism. Here, Couric wouldn’t let up, even smiling while recounting their statements, as if the interview were about some inanimate object, and not about the very person sitting just a few feet away. Agassi looked Couric straight in the eye as she read the comments, his eyes slowly welling up with tears. He said that he understood their concerns and would have to live with them.
But what do we understand? I have come to see that Agassi had a miserable childhood, which is no excuse but at least some explanation. He worked his way into becoming a top-ranked player, generating significant personal wealth. He used drugs, and lied about it to tennis officials. Now he is seeking to come clean via a new book he did not need to write.
Some people might ask why I am choosing to focus on a former tennis player who abused drugs and now asks for people’s support and compassion. I do so because I worry that in our society we can be mightily harsh about others, even trite, to the point that we are unwilling to see and hear someone else’s pain. It is too easy to judge, deplore, and dismiss Agassi as just another celebrity or jock in trouble; but before we wash our hands clean of any prolonged engagement on such matters, there is a need to discern what we believe is happening. Are we too jaded that we cannot find any redeeming qualities in someone else who discovers their own frailties, missteps, and misdeeds, and who seeks to right their course – who may genuinely be seeking to account for them own actions?
One’s redemption is not something for us to determine; each person must look within their heart and come to their own judgment. Agassi seems to have found that. Now, when the moment is right, I want to find room in my own heart for compassion.
Watching
Katie Couric interview Andre Agassi on 60
Minutes this past Sunday was painful. Agassi
recently revealed his past drug use in his new
book, Open. His admission raises the question
once more for me about when and how does
someone find redemption in their life.I have vivid memories of Agassi as a player. He always seemed to be living on the edge, pining for people’s attention through his unorthodox play, dress, even appearance. He was a fighter on the court. Now we know that he was fighting internal demons, too.
It was striking just how Agassi answered Couric’s intensely personal questions that probed and picked at his lifestyle, mental health, and drug use. But throughout Agassi never once blinked; he directly answered Couric’s questions, never seeking refuge to hide. What emerged over the course of the conversation was the sense that here is an individual who has taken the time to closely examine his life and account for his actions.
We’ve all seen someone in Agassi’s shoes sweat and stumble during such an interview and steer away from the knotty issues. Watch former presidential candidate John Edwards discuss his personal and political affairs and you’ll know what I mean. There is an intrinsic skittishness in someone like Edwards. With Agassi, on the other hand, you could feel him actually lean into each question, not run away from or dodge them. He seemed to gently surmise the essence of each question and then handle it with profound care. His engagement didn’t seem to be about selling a new book or manipulating some public relations gig; instead, he seems to be someone who is coming to terms with his life and making a choice about how to live it out.
During the interview Couric asked Agassi to respond to comments made by some of his fellow competitors and now friends – such as Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer, and Martina Navitrilova; each one was highly critical of him, damning in their criticism. Here, Couric wouldn’t let up, even smiling while recounting their statements, as if the interview were about some inanimate object, and not about the very person sitting just a few feet away. Agassi looked Couric straight in the eye as she read the comments, his eyes slowly welling up with tears. He said that he understood their concerns and would have to live with them.
But what do we understand? I have come to see that Agassi had a miserable childhood, which is no excuse but at least some explanation. He worked his way into becoming a top-ranked player, generating significant personal wealth. He used drugs, and lied about it to tennis officials. Now he is seeking to come clean via a new book he did not need to write.
Some people might ask why I am choosing to focus on a former tennis player who abused drugs and now asks for people’s support and compassion. I do so because I worry that in our society we can be mightily harsh about others, even trite, to the point that we are unwilling to see and hear someone else’s pain. It is too easy to judge, deplore, and dismiss Agassi as just another celebrity or jock in trouble; but before we wash our hands clean of any prolonged engagement on such matters, there is a need to discern what we believe is happening. Are we too jaded that we cannot find any redeeming qualities in someone else who discovers their own frailties, missteps, and misdeeds, and who seeks to right their course – who may genuinely be seeking to account for them own actions?
One’s redemption is not something for us to determine; each person must look within their heart and come to their own judgment. Agassi seems to have found that. Now, when the moment is right, I want to find room in my own heart for compassion.