Andre Agassi: The Life Story Behind Tennis' Rebel Star

Andre Agassi was the most famous tennis player in the world who did not want to play tennis. That is the strange truth at the heart of his story, and it is what makes him different from every other champion of his time. He was forced onto the court as a small child by a father who dreamed of a champion son, and he grew up hating the game that made him rich and famous, and he spent years rebelling against it with long hair, bright clothes, earrings, and a refusal to play by the rules. And then, after losing almost everything, he came back, he fell in love with the game on his own terms, and he became one of the greatest players who ever lived, a man who won all four Grand Slam tournaments, an Olympic gold medal, and the respect of the whole sport.

His story is not a simple story of talent and hard work. It is a story of a boy who was pushed too hard, a young man who ran away from his own gift, a star who fell to the bottom of the rankings and into drug use, and a grown man who rebuilt himself, piece by piece, until he was standing at the top of the world again, this time as a person he could be proud of. It is a story about fathers and sons, about fame and freedom, about the price of success, and about the second chance that comes to those who are willing to change.

This is the life of Andre Agassi, the rebel who became a champion, the champion who became a broken man, and the broken man who became, in the end, one of the most admired figures in all of sport.

Las Vegas: A Father, a Ball Machine, and a Boy Who Hated Tennis

Andre Kirk Agassi was born on 29 April 1970 in Las Vegas, Nevada, the youngest of four children born to Emmanuel Agassi, known as Mike, and Elizabeth Agassi. His father had been born in Iran, of Armenian and Assyrian heritage, and had been an Olympic boxer before coming to America, where he worked in a casino and dreamed of sporting glory for his children. Mike Agassi was a tough, driven man, and he believed that his youngest son had the talent to become a tennis champion, and he set out to make that happen, whatever it cost.

He built a tennis court in the back garden of the family home, and he built a ball machine that he called the dragon, a machine that fired balls at the young Andre faster and harder than any child could handle. He made Andre practise for hours every day, hitting thousands of balls, and he was strict and demanding, and he did not accept complaints. Andre was a small boy, and he was fast, and he had a gift for hitting the ball early, on the rise, taking time away from his opponents, but he did not love the game. He loved his father, and he wanted to please him, but the game itself felt like a prison to him, a thing that had been forced on him before he was old enough to choose.

He went to school, but his heart was not in it, and his tennis took him away from home for long periods. When he was thirteen, his father sent him to the Nick Bollettieri Tennis Academy in Florida, a famous school for young players, where the training was even harder and the discipline was even stricter. Andre was a long way from home, and he was unhappy, and he began to rebel in small ways, growing his hair long, wearing clothes that his coaches did not like, and refusing to do what he was told. The rebellion was the first sign of the man he would become: a person who needed to be free, and who would fight for that freedom, even if it cost him.

He turned professional in 1986, when he was sixteen years old, and he was an instant sensation, not only because of his game, but because of his image. He wore bright pink and orange clothes, he had long hair and an earring, he drove fast cars, and he talked like a rock star, not like a tennis player. The crowds loved him, the sponsors loved him, and the older players did not know what to make of him. He was, in the words of many people at the time, the future of tennis, and he was also a boy who had never chosen the life he was living.

The Image, the Money, and the Missing Wimbledon

In his first years as a professional, Agassi won tournaments and climbed the rankings, but he also made choices that shocked the tennis world. He refused to play at Wimbledon for three years, from 1988 to 1990, because he did not like the tournament’s strict dress code, which required players to wear white, and because he did not like the stuffy traditions of the All England Club. It was a bold and foolish decision at the same time, because Wimbledon is the greatest tournament in the game, and a young player who refuses to play there is telling the world that his image matters more than his career. Agassi knew that, and he did it anyway, because he was determined to be himself, even if it cost him.

He reached his first Grand Slam final at the French Open in 1990, and he lost, and he reached the final again in 1991, and he lost again, and he began to be known as a player who could not win the big matches. The press called him a showman who could not finish, and the criticism hurt him, because he was trying, in his own way, to be a champion, but he was also trying to be free, and the two things seemed to pull him in opposite directions. He had money, he had fame, and he had a famous girlfriend in the actress Brooke Shields, but he did not have the one thing he wanted most: a Grand Slam title, and the feeling that he had earned it on his own terms.

In 1992, he finally won Wimbledon, the tournament he had once refused to play, beating Goran Ivanisevic in the final in five sets. It was a victory that changed his life, because it proved that he could win the biggest prize in the game, and because it proved it on the grass courts that had once seemed so foreign to him. He wore white, he played with discipline, and he won, and the crowd at Wimbledon, which had once been unsure about him, cheered him as a champion. It was the first Grand Slam title of his career, and it was a sign that the rebel could also be a winner.

He won the US Open in 1994, beating Michael Stich in the final, and he reached the world number one ranking for the first time in 1995, after winning the Australian Open. He was at the top of the game, and he was rich and famous, and he seemed to have everything, but inside, he was unhappy. He still did not love tennis, and he still felt that his life had been chosen for him, not by him, and the unhappiness began to show in his game, and in his life, in ways that would soon become impossible to hide.

The Fall: Rank 141 and the Truth in Open

The years from 1996 to 1998 were the darkest of Agassi’s life. His game fell apart, his ranking fell to number 141 in the world, and he began to use crystal meth, a dangerous drug, a fact he later admitted in his autobiography, Open, published in 2009. He was lost, and he was angry, and he was playing tennis because he did not know what else to do, not because he wanted to. He lost matches to players he would once have beaten easily, and he looked, on the court, like a man who did not care anymore. The crowds that had once cheered him began to pity him, and the sponsors began to walk away, and the tennis world began to write him off as a wasted talent, a rebel who had burned too brightly and too fast.

He also went through a painful divorce from Brooke Shields, whom he had married in 1997, and the marriage ended in 1999, after only two years. He was 27 years old, and he had lost his ranking, his confidence, and his marriage, and he had to decide whether to keep going or to walk away from the game entirely. It was the lowest point of his life, and it was also, in a strange way, the turning point, because when a person has lost everything, they are finally free to choose what they want, without anyone else telling them what to do.

He chose to start again, and he started at the bottom. He played in small Challenger tournaments, the minor leagues of tennis, in front of tiny crowds, against players the world had never heard of, and he worked his way back up, one match at a time. He hired a new fitness trainer, Gil Reyes, a man who became his closest friend and his rock, and he began to train his body with a seriousness he had never shown before. He also began to think differently about tennis, not as a prison his father had built for him, but as a game he could choose to play, on his own terms, for his own reasons. It was a slow and painful process, but it was real, and it was his.

In 1999, the comeback became one of the great stories in the history of sport. He won the French Open, beating Andrei Medvedev in the final after losing the first two sets, and in doing so he completed the Career Grand Slam, winning all four major tournaments, a feat that only a handful of men in history have achieved. He also won the US Open that year, and he returned to the world number one ranking, and he did it all as a man who had been to the bottom and had climbed back up. It was not the comeback of a young star. It was the comeback of a grown man who had finally decided to live his own life.

The Comeback Champion and the Career Grand Slam

The French Open victory in 1999 was the most emotional win of Agassi’s career, because Paris was the tournament that had hurt him most, and because the final was a battle that he nearly lost. He was two sets down against Medvedev, and he looked beaten, but he fought back, set by set, and he won in five sets, and when the last point was won, he fell to the clay and cried. It was the moment when the rebel became a champion in the fullest sense, a man who had won on every surface, in every kind of tournament, and who had done it after losing everything. The Career Grand Slam put him in the company of the greatest players in history, and it was a prize that his rival, Pete Sampras, never won, a fact that made the achievement even sweeter for Agassi.

He won the US Open later that year, beating Todd Martin in the final, and he finished the year as the world number one, a remarkable turnaround from the man who had been ranked 141st only two years earlier. He was 29 years old, and he was playing the best tennis of his life, not because he was younger or faster, but because he was wiser, and because he finally understood why he was playing. He was playing for himself, and for the people he loved, and for the joy of the game, and that made all the difference. His game had changed too: he was fitter, he was stronger, and he hit the ball with a precision that came from years of practice and from a mind that was finally at peace.

In the years that followed, he won the Australian Open three more times, in 2000, 2001, and 2003, bringing his total of Grand Slam singles titles to eight, and he won an Olympic gold medal at the Atlanta Games in 1996, a prize that had come in the middle of his darkest years, and that he treasured because it was won for his country. He played on into his thirties, long after most players of his generation had retired, and he remained one of the best players in the world, because his game was built on timing and intelligence, not only on speed, and because his body, trained by Gil Reyes, held up far longer than anyone had expected.

He also became a different man off the court. He married Steffi Graf, the great German champion, in 2001, and the two of them, who had both been child stars pushed by demanding fathers, understood each other in a way that few other couples could. They had two children, Jaden and Jaz, and they built a quiet family life in Las Vegas, away from the spotlight, and Agassi became a devoted father, a man who wanted his children to have the childhood he had never had: a childhood with choices, and with freedom, and with love that did not depend on winning a tennis match.

The Foundation, the School, and Giving Back

In 1994, Agassi had started the Andre Agassi Foundation for Education, a charity to help children in Las Vegas, and in the years after his comeback, that work became the centre of his life. He built the Andre Agassi College Preparatory Academy, a charter school in Las Vegas for children from poor families, a school that gave them a safe place to learn, with good teachers, small classes, and high expectations. He gave millions of dollars of his own money to the school, and he spent time there himself, talking to the children, encouraging them, and showing them that a man who had been given much could give much back.

The school was personal for Agassi, because he had been a child who was pushed into a life he did not choose, and who had been denied a proper education because tennis took up all his time. He wanted the children at his school to have what he had not had: a real education, and a real choice about their futures. He has said that the school is the achievement he is proudest of, more than any Grand Slam title, and more than any ranking, because a title is won for yourself, but a school is built for others, and it goes on helping children long after the tennis has been forgotten.

He also became an advocate for education reform in America, speaking to politicians and to business leaders about the need for better schools, and using his fame to draw attention to children who had no fame of their own. It was a new kind of work for a man who had once been known only for his hair and his clothes, and it showed the world that Agassi had grown up, and that the rebel had become a leader, not on a tennis court, but in a community. He was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame in 2011, and the honour recognised not only his tennis, but his character, and the life he had built after the game.

The Last Matches and the Farewell at Flushing Meadows

Agassi played his last years with a body that was wearing out, and with a back that hurt him every day, but he kept playing because he loved the game, and because he wanted to finish on his own terms. He reached the US Open final in 2005, at the age of 35, losing to Roger Federer, a younger champion who was taking the game to a new level, and the run to that final was one of the most emotional of his career, because the New York crowds loved him, and because they knew they were watching the end of an era. He played long, hard matches, in the heat, against younger men, and he won them with heart and with intelligence, and the crowd cheered him as if he were their own son.

In 2006, he announced that the US Open would be his last tournament, and he played his final matches in front of crowds that gave him standing ovations before he had even hit a ball. He won two matches, and then he lost in the third round to Benjamin Becker, a young German player, in four sets, and when the match was over, he stood on the court and spoke to the crowd, thanking them, and thanking his family, and saying goodbye to the game that had shaped his whole life. He cried, and the crowd cried, and it was one of the most moving farewells in the history of tennis, because everyone in the stadium understood what the game had cost him, and what he had given back to it.

He retired with eight Grand Slam titles, an Olympic gold medal, and a place among the greatest players in the history of the sport, but he also retired with something rarer: a life that he had chosen for himself, a family that he loved, and a school that would help children for generations. He was no longer the rebel who hated tennis. He was a man who had made peace with the game, and with his father, and with himself, and that peace was the greatest victory of his career.

Open: The Book That Told the Truth

In 2009, Agassi published his autobiography, Open, written with the journalist J. R. Moehringer, and the book shocked the tennis world, because it told the truth in a way that few sports books ever do. Agassi wrote that he had hated tennis for most of his life, that he had used crystal meth, that he had lied to the tennis authorities about a failed drug test, and that he had worn a hairpiece during his early years as a professional. He wrote about his father, about his marriages, about his fears, and about his search for a life of his own, and he wrote it all with an honesty that was painful to read, and that was also deeply moving.

The book became a bestseller, and it changed the way people saw Agassi, because it showed them the man behind the image, a man who had suffered, and who had made terrible mistakes, and who had found a way to be honest about them. It also changed the way people saw tennis, because it showed the world what the life of a child star can cost, and how the pressure to win can break a young person, even when the whole world is cheering for them. Agassi did not write the book to make excuses. He wrote it to tell the truth, and to help other people who might be going through the same things, and that honesty took a courage that few athletes have ever shown.

Today, Open is regarded as one of the best sports books ever written, and it is read by people who have never watched a tennis match, because it is not really a book about tennis. It is a book about a boy who was pushed too hard, a man who lost his way, and a person who found his way back, and that is a story that belongs to everyone, not only to tennis fans. Agassi’s willingness to tell the truth, even when the truth was ugly, is the final proof that the rebel had become a man of integrity, and that the boy who hated tennis had become a man who could face himself.

My Take:

I think Andre Agassi is the most human champion I have ever read about, and I mean that as the highest praise I can give. Most champions tell a simple story: I worked hard, I won, and I am happy. Agassi tells a harder story: I was pushed, I hated the game, I rebelled, I fell, I used drugs, I lost everything, and then I rebuilt myself, and I am still learning. That honesty is rare, and it is brave, and it is why I think his book Open is the most important sports book I have ever read. It does not pretend that success is simple. It shows that success can be a prison, and that freedom has to be earned, not given.

The first thing that strikes me about Agassi is his father, and the ball machine called the dragon, because that image stays with me. A small boy, standing on a court in Las Vegas, with a machine firing balls at him faster than he can handle, and a father standing behind him, demanding more. I think about that boy, and I feel sad for him, because no child should have to live like that, and because the love of a father should not feel like a punishment. But I also think about the father, and I feel a kind of pity for him too, because he was a man who had come from Iran with nothing, and who believed, with all his heart, that his son’s talent was the family’s way out, and that pushing was the only way to make it happen. He was wrong, and his son paid the price, but I do not think he was cruel. I think he was afraid, and fear can make a parent do terrible things, even when they love their child.

What I admire most about Agassi is that he did not stay angry. He could have spent his whole life blaming his father, and many people would have understood if he had. Instead, he made peace with him, and he made peace with the game, and he made peace with himself, and that takes a strength that is harder to find than any tennis skill. Forgiveness is not easy, especially when the person who hurt you is your own father, and especially when the hurt lasted for twenty years. Agassi forgave, and he did it without pretending that the hurt had not happened, and that is the kind of forgiveness that is real. I think about that when I think about my own family, and about the people who have hurt me, and I wonder if I could do what he did. I am not sure I could, and that is why I admire him so much.

I also think about the fall, and about the ranking of 141, because that number tells a story that no other number in tennis can tell. A man who had been number one in the world, who had won Grand Slam titles, who had been on the cover of magazines, fell to 141, and played in small tournaments in front of tiny crowds, and worked his way back. That is not a story about talent. It is a story about humility. It takes humility to play in a Challenger tournament when you have played in Grand Slam finals. It takes humility to admit that you have lost your way, and to start again from the bottom. Most stars would rather quit than do that. Agassi did not quit. He started again, and he climbed back to number one, and that climb is, to me, the greatest achievement of his career, greater than any single title, because it was a climb that no one else could have made for him.

The drug use is the part of his story that is hardest to read about, and I want to talk about it honestly, because Agassi talked about it honestly. He used crystal meth, a dangerous drug, and he lied about it, and he could have been banned from the game. I do not excuse that, and I do not think Agassi excuses it either. But I do think about why he did it, and I think the answer is that he was a man who had never been allowed to choose his own life, and who was looking for a way to escape, even if the escape was destructive. That does not make it right, but it makes it understandable, and I think we should try to understand people before we judge them. Agassi judged himself, in his book, more harshly than any of us could, and he changed, and that is what matters most. A person is not defined by their worst mistake. They are defined by what they do after it.

The comeback in 1999 is the moment I love most in his career, because it was a comeback that no one expected, and because it was won on clay, in Paris, in the tournament that had hurt him most. He was two sets down in the final, and he looked beaten, and then he fought back, and he won, and he completed the Career Grand Slam, and he cried on the clay. I cried when I watched it too, because those tears were not about tennis. They were about a man who had been to the bottom and had come back, and who had proved, to himself more than to anyone else, that he was not finished. That is a moment that belongs to everyone who has ever fallen down and gotten back up, and I think that is why so many people love Agassi, even people who do not follow tennis.

I also love the story of his school, because I think it is the most important thing he ever did, more important than any title. He built a school for children in Las Vegas who had no chance, and he gave them a chance, and he did it because he knew what it was like to be a child with no choice. He wanted those children to have choices, and he wanted them to have an education, and he spent his own money and his own time to make it happen. I think that is the mark of a person who has truly grown up: that he uses his success not for himself, but for others, and that he measures his life not by what he won, but by what he gave. I wish more famous athletes would do what Agassi did, and I wish more rich people would do it too.

The marriage to Steffi Graf is another part of his story that moves me, because the two of them understood each other in a way that no one else could. They had both been child stars. They had both been pushed by demanding fathers. They had both been famous before they were old enough to understand fame. And they found each other, and they built a quiet life together, and they raised their children with the freedom they had never had. I think that is a beautiful thing, and I think it shows that two people who have been hurt in the same way can heal each other, if they are honest, and if they are kind. Agassi and Graf did that, and their family is a proof that love can be a second chance, just as tennis was a second chance for Agassi.

If I could speak to a young person who is being pushed too hard by a parent, I would tell them to read Open, and to know that they are not alone. I would tell them that it is alright to say that you do not love the thing you are good at, and that it is alright to want a life of your own. I would also tell them that running away is not the answer, and that drugs are not the answer, and that the answer is to find your own reason to do the thing you do, and to make it yours. Agassi found his reason, late, but he found it, and it saved him. I hope every young person finds their reason sooner than he did, and I hope their parents will let them.

I also think about the book itself, and about the courage it took to write it, because Agassi could have written a safe book, a book that praised everyone and hid the ugly parts, and it would have sold just as well. He did not do that. He told the truth about the drugs, about the lies, about the hairpiece, about the hate, and he did it knowing that people would judge him for it. That takes a kind of bravery that has nothing to do with tennis, and everything to do with character. I think the book will be read for a long time, not only by tennis fans, but by anyone who wants to understand what it means to be honest with yourself, and I think Agassi should be proud of it, even prouder than he is of his titles.

In the end, I think Andre Agassi’s story is about freedom, and about the long road to it. He was born into a life he did not choose, he rebelled against it, he fell because of it, and then he chose a new life, on his own terms, and he lived it well. He became a champion, a husband, a father, and a giver, and he did it all after losing everything. That is a story that gives me hope, because it tells me that no matter how lost a person is, they can find their way back, if they are honest, and if they are willing to work, and if they are willing to change. Agassi found his way back, and I am glad he told us how he did it.

I also want to say something about his game, because it is easy to forget, in all the drama of his life, how beautiful his tennis was. He hit the ball early, on the rise, taking time away from his opponents, and he returned serve better than almost anyone who ever played. His backhand was a work of art, and his ability to change direction on the ball was something that coaches still teach young players today. He was not the biggest, and he was not the strongest, but he was one of the smartest, and he played with a timing that made the game look easy. I hope young players will watch his old matches, not only for the story, but for the tennis, because the tennis was wonderful too.

One more thought stays with me, and it is about the hairpiece, because it seems like a small thing, and yet it tells a big story. Agassi wore a hairpiece in his early years because he was losing his hair and he was afraid of how he would look, and he worried about it so much that it affected his game. He wrote about it honestly in his book, and I think that honesty is moving, because it shows how much pressure young stars are under to look perfect, and how that pressure can poison even the simplest things. I think about all the young people who worry about how they look, and I want them to know that even the most famous man in tennis worried about the same thing, and that it is alright to be imperfect. Agassi was imperfect, and he was great, and those two things can live together.

And finally, I think about the word that gives his book its title, Open, and how perfect that word is for him. He spent his life trying to be open: open about his hate for tennis, open about his drugs, open about his mistakes, and open about his hope. He opened himself to the world, and the world opened itself to him, and that is why his story matters. I hope that anyone who reads this will take one lesson from Agassi: that honesty is hard, and that it hurts, but that it is the only way to be free. He was honest, and he became free, and I think that is the greatest victory of his life.

I also keep thinking about the young Agassi in his neon clothes, because that boy was not trying to be a rebel for the sake of it. He was trying to say, in the only way he knew how, that he was a person, not a machine, and that he wanted to be seen. The clothes were loud because his voice was not allowed to be loud. I think we should listen to young people when they dress loudly or act out, because they are often trying to tell us something, and Agassi was telling the world that he needed freedom. The world finally heard him, and he finally found it, and that is why his story ends in hope, not in anger.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why did Andre Agassi hate tennis as a child?

His father forced him to practise for hours every day from a young age, using a ball machine, and Agassi felt the game had been chosen for him rather than by him.

How far did Andre Agassi fall in the rankings?

His ranking fell to world No. 141 in 1997, during the darkest period of his career, before he rebuilt his game and returned to No. 1 in 1999.

Which Grand Slam titles did Andre Agassi win?

He won eight Grand Slam singles titles: four Australian Opens, two US Opens, one Wimbledon, and one French Open, completing the Career Grand Slam in 1999.

What did Andre Agassi admit in his book Open?

In his 2009 autobiography he admitted that he had hated tennis, used crystal meth, and lied about a failed drug test, among other honest revelations about his life.

Who is Andre Agassi married to?

He has been married to the German tennis champion Steffi Graf since 2001, and the couple have two children, Jaden and Jaz, and live in Las Vegas.

What school did Andre Agassi build?

He built the Andre Agassi College Preparatory Academy, a charter school in Las Vegas for children from low-income families, through his foundation for education.