Dinner with Andre
Written by Jason Keidel, Sunday November 22 2009
Andre Agassi dined on life of lies. He wore a ponytail from a pony, told you image was everything while he stapled a rug to his dome and married a model he didn’t love. Then, knowing he was miserable, spent some money on some meth.
You can’t believe his mendacity!
Haven’t we learned anything from the Mitchell Report? A lie within a lie, baseball commissioned a Red Sox employee to catch cheaters, while instead he saw it as a blessing to bag those Damn Yankees. Isn’t it odd to you that Manny and Papi were omitted from his witch-hunt?
Like a whale emerging for a gulp of air, Agassi was drowning in secrets. His book and subsequent interviews are not new concepts, but perhaps part of the nouveau solution for celebrities. Confession can serve as a form of spiritual laxative, and this is clearly working for him merely by dint of his obvious relief. He has been eloquent, candid, self-deprecating and downright funny. We want our heroes to be heroic, and he damn well is.
With the dawn of Dr. Drew, stars reveal their stripes to the world, wrenching themselves from the sycophants who tell them everything is okay when everything suggests that it isn’t. You go to a priest, he goes to Katie Couric. Whatever works, right?
To paraphrase Hunter Thompson, I have taken nearly every drug known to man since 1544 A.D. And I can tell you that meth did nothing to enhance Andre’s tennis performance. Indeed, drugs provide the sensation of conquest while we really look and act like fools. Agassi slipped to No. 141 in the world rankings when he used crystal meth (1997). If that isn’t proof, then you cannot be convinced. You don’t hear a peep from his peers, who actually played him. They know.
So many are screaming at Agassi when they should be clapping. He messed up and he went on 60 Minutes to tell you about it. No Clinton finger-waving, no Ollie North amnesia, no Simpson squeezing his large hands into wilted, black bloody gloves; Andre came clean about a time when he was dirty.
But Martina Navratilova is angry. She wants Agassi to forfeit some trophies. Stuck in eternal testosterone envy, Navratilova came to America from a country (Czechoslovakia) renowned for doping. Does she really want us to wedge into her closet? Ever see her stand next to Chris Evert?
She is emblematic of people who have never been addicted. They see drug use through a righteous prism, a result of weakness more than illness. Agassi was depressed and hit the pipe, where you hit the buffet or the blackjack table or the massage parlor or…hence the genius of Original Sin and glass houses. Are you ready to run to Charlie Gibson with your gaffes?
Would it be better if Andre drank too much? Equally destructive, the only difference between a bottle and a pipe is one has been blessed and taxed by Uncle Sam. 10% of Americans are alcoholics. One man’s drug dealer resides in the tavern, the other's on the corner. Stop the sanctimony.
Tags:
Leave a comment
Not So Fast! To publish your comment, you have to login
Not Registered? Register now as it only take 20 seconds!
Click here to browse
0 comments