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#411 Tortured Into Greatness- The Life of Andre Agassi

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  • Living With An Imposed Identity
    • Andre Agassi lived decades feeling like a stranger to himself because tennis was chosen for him, not by him.
    • His core conflict is acting against his desires, creating lifelong identity confusion. Transcript: Speaker 1 I open my eyes and I don’t know where I am or who I am. Not all that unusual. I’ve spent half my life not knowing. Still, this feels different. This confusion is more frightening, more total. I look up. I’m lying on the floor beside the bed. I remember now. I moved from the bed to the floor in the middle of the night. I do that most nights. Better for my back. I count to three, then start the long, difficult process of standing. With a cough, a groan, I roll onto my side, then curl into the fetal position, then flip over onto my stomach. I’m a young man, relatively speaking, 36, but I wake as if I’m 96. After three decades of sprinting, stopping on a dime, jumping high, and landing hard, my body no longer feels like my body, especially in the morning. Consequently, my mind doesn’t feel like my mind. Upon opening my eyes, I’m a stranger to myself. I run quickly through the basic facts. My name is Andre Agassi. My wife’s name is Steffi Graf. We have two children, a son and a daughter, five and three. We live in Las Vegas, Nevada, but currently reside in a suite at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York City because I’m playing in the 2006 U.S. Open, my last U.S. Open. In fact, my last tournament ever. I play tennis for a living, even though I hate tennis. Hate it with a dark and secret passion, and always have. As this last piece of identity falls into place, I slide to my knees, and in a whisper, I say, please let this be over. Then I say, I’m not ready for it to be over. Hate brings me to my knees. Love gets me on my feet. Gil, my trainer, my friend, my surrogate father, explains it this way. Your body is saying that it doesn’t want to do this anymore. My body has been saying that for a long time, I tell Gil, almost as long as I’ve been saying it. My body doesn’t want to retire. My body has already retired. My body has moved to Florida and bought a condo. So I’ve been negotiating with my body, asking it to come out of retirement for a few hours here and a few hours there. Much of this negotiation revolves around a cortisone shot that temporarily dulls the pain. Before the shot works, however, it causes its own torments. I got one yesterday so I could play tonight. It was the third shot this year, the 13th of my career, and by far the most alarming. The burning sensation made me bite my lip. Then came the pressure. The tiny space in my spine where the nerves are housed began to feel vacuum packed. The pressure built until I thought my back would burst. Pressure is how you know everything’s working, the doctor said. Words to live by, Doc. I limp out to the living room of our suite. My son Jaden and my daughter Jazz see me and scream, Daddy, Daddy. They jump up and down and want to leap on me. They stop just before leaping because they know Daddy is delicate these days. Daddy will shatter if you touch him too hard. Jaden asks if today is the day. Yes. You’re playing? Yes. And then after today you retire? Not if I win, son. If I win tonight, I keep playing. He hopes daddy loses. Hopes daddy experiences the disappointment that surpasses all others. He doesn’t understand. And how will I ever be able to explain it to him? The pain of losing. The pain of playing. It has taken me nearly 30 years to understand it myself. To solve the calculus of my own psyche. I sit quietly at the table, looking around the suite. It’s like every other hotel suite I’ve ever had, only more so. Clean, chic, comfortable. It’s lovely, but it’s still just another version of what I call not home. The non-place that we exist as athletes. I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I stare at my face. 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? Somewhere in those eyes, however, I can still vaguely see the boy who didn’t want to play tennis in the first place. The boy who wanted to quit. The boy who did quit many times. See that golden-haired boy who hated tennis, and I wonder how he would view this bald man who still hates tennis and yet still plays. Would he be shocked, amused? Would he be proud? Please let this be over. I’m not ready for it to be over. That is an excerpt from the book that I’m gonna talk to you about today, which is Open, the autobiography of Andre Agassi. (Time 0:00:00)
  • Self-Talk As Mental Training
    • Agassi uses self-talk as a competitive tool, repeating mantras to control focus and courage.
    • He treats phrases like “Control what you can control” as behavioral programming. Transcript: Speaker 1 So he talks about tennis is the sport in which you talk to yourself. 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 debates with their alter egos. Why? Because tennis is so damn lonely. The amount of founders that have told me that they talk to themselves out loud, they answer themselves, they’re constantly negotiating with their own psyche I’ve lost count of. And then they also talk about how it’s so damn lonely. And one of the interesting byproducts of all this self-talk and talking to yourself is actually you come up with a lot of good ideas this way. And for Agassi, it was no different. For him, a lot of this self-talk also happens in the shower. He says 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 the most important sentence of this paragraph. This is when I began to say things to myself, crazy things over and over until I believe them. I have won 869 matches in my career, fifth on the all-time list, and many were won during the afternoon shower. And he tells us parts of the conversation he’s having with himself, and I think a lot of this is just excellent advice. I give myself strict orders. Take it one point at a time. Make your opponent work for everything. No matter what happens, hold your head up. And for God’s sake, enjoy it, or at least try to enjoy moments of it, even the pain, even the losing, if that’s what’s in store for you. I close my eyes and say, control what you can control. Control what you can control. (Time 0:05:32)
  • A Father Who Enforced Greatness
    • Andre’s father forced rigorous, daily practice and preached hitting a million balls a year as a path to dominance.
    • That relentless regimen came with yelling, violence, and zero choice for young Andre. Transcript: Speaker 1 My father yells everything twice, sometimes three times, sometimes 10. Harder, he says, harder. Every ball I send across the net joins the thousands that already cover the court. Not hundreds, thousands. My father says that if I hit 2,500 balls each day, I’ll hit 17 balls each week, and at the end of one year, I’ll have hit nearly 1 million balls. He believes in math. Numbers, he says, don’t lie. A child who hits 1 million balls each year will be unbeatable. He’s yelling directly into my ear, day and night, yelling in my ear. He turns around, sees me watching. What the hell are you looking at? Keep hitting, keep hitting. My shoulder aches. I can’t hit another ball. I hit another three. I can’t go on another minute. I go on another ten. He glares. What the fuck are you doing? Stop thinking. No fucking thinking. Thinking, my father believes, is the source of all bad things because thinking is the opposite of doing. I often think about how I can stop thinking. I wonder if my father yells at me to stop thinking because he knows I’m a thinker by nature. And so let me pause right there. I think that’s one of the benefits of reading this book. Andre is obviously a very introspective person and it takes him decades of deep introspection to figure out who he is. And that takes him more than three and a half decades of life. And part of the reason it’s taken him so long, even though he has very high levels of introspection, is because he had to suppress who he was and what he wanted his life to be because of this Domineering father that tortured him into greatness. My father looks at this as a backyard tennis court. I look at it like a prison. 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. Violent by nature, my father is forever preparing for battle. He shadow boxes constantly. He keeps an axe handle in his car. He leaves the house with a handful of salt and pepper in each pocket in case he’s in a street fight and needs to blind someone. And this is such a perfect line to describe somebody like this. Of course, some of his most vicious battles are with himself. So Andre’s constantly telling the stories about the violent nature of his father, probably why one of the reasons why he refused or maybe couldn’t resist his father. And even though he hated what he was doing, felt the need and the deep need to please his father. It’s obvious how confusing this is for Andre as a young boy. He has this deep love for his father, but he’s deeply, deeply scared of him. And you would be scared of him too. Here’s an example. They’re in a car. He gets into a shouting match with another driver. My father stops his car, steps out, orders the man out of his. Because my father is wielding an axe, the man refuses. My father whips the axe into the man’s headlights and taillights, sending sprays of glass everywhere. Another time, my father reaches across me and points his handgun at another driver. He holds the gun level with my nose. I stare straight ahead. I do not move. Such moments and many more come to mind whenever I think about telling my father that I don’t want to play tennis. Besides loving my father and wanting to please him, I don’t want to upset him. I don’t dare. Bad stuff happens when my father is upset. If he says I’m going to play tennis, if he says I’m going to be number one in the world, that is my destiny. All I can do is nod and obey. (Time 0:09:05)
  • Turning Pro As No Choice
    • At 16 Andre accepted prize money and turned pro after his father insisted there were no other options.
    • Cashing that check felt like stepping into a dark, irreversible forest of lost possibilities. Transcript: Speaker 1 It to me. Sure enough, at the Nationals, my father gives me a pill. Hold out your hand, he says. This will help you. Take it. He puts a pill in my palm, tiny, white, and round. Andre’s dad has this vision of how his son’s life’s going to be, and he doesn’t care. He couldn’t care less what his own son’s vision is. And Andre says, having no choice, having no say about what I do or who I am makes me crazy. And so he sends Andre away to this, basically this tennis boarding school. And so Andre describes this school. When we’re not drilling, we’re studying the psychology of tennis. We take classes on mental toughness, positive thinking, and visualization. We’re taught to close our eyes and pictures ourselves winning Wimbledon, hoisting the trophy above our heads. This is when he starts to rebel. No one seems to notice my antics. I’ve mutilated my hair, grown my nails. I’ve pierced my body, broken rules, busted curfew, picked fistfights, thrown tantrums, cut classes, even slipped into the girls’ barracks after hours. I’ve consumed gallons of whiskey. I chew tobacco and smoke weed. What new sin can I commit to show the world I’m unhappy and I want to go home? Yet, as you can imagine, if he’s been forced to pick up a tennis racket when he’s four, forced to hit a million balls a year, now is sent off to this completely rigorous tennis boot camp, A decade in, he’s really good. And even though he hates what he’s doing, he likes being great at what he does. I’m 15 years old and I’m beating grown men. I’m beating them senseless. I’m churning my way through the ranks. Everywhere I walk, people are pointing at me, whispering, there he is. That’s the kid I was telling you about, the prodigy. It’s the prettiest word I’ve ever heard applied to me. And so he’s playing all these tournaments. He’s winning them or he’s getting to the final and they offer him money. And so far up until this point, he hasn’t accepted any of the money because the minute he takes a dollar for playing tennis, he’s no longer an amateur and he’s got to turn pro. And so he’s offered this check of $1,100 at this tournament. He calls his dad to figure out what to do. I phone my father back in Vegas and ask him what I should do. My father says, what the hell do you mean? Take the money. If I take the money, there’s no turning back. I’m pro. So what? If I cash this check pops, that’s it. He acts as if we had a bad connection. You’ve dropped out of school. You have an eighth grade education. What are your choices? What the hell else are you going to do? Be a doctor? None of this comes as news to me, but I hate the way he puts it. I tell the tournament director, I’ll take the money. As the words leave my mouth, I feel a shelf of possibilities fall away. I don’t know what those possibilities might be, but that’s the point. I never will know. The man hands me a check, and as I walk out of his office, I feel I’m starting down a long, long road, one that seems to lead into a dark, ominous forest. (Time 0:20:36)
  • Winning Isn’t A Cure
    • Success didn’t heal Andre’s inner conflict; losses wounded him far more than wins healed him.
    • He realized winning never erased the deeper emptiness created by his past. Transcript: Speaker 1 This is really a story of redemption. He has this crazy father, this terrible childhood where he has no control, no autonomy, no choice about what happens to him at all. He somehow gets to be the number one tennis player in the world. Then he’s going to have this crazy fall to the point where he’s smoking meth, falls so low that he has to start from the very bottom. He starts playing like local tournaments at tennis courts and parks and at community colleges and has to fight his way all the way back, which he does. And all along the way, as you’re following this life story, he’s sharing and then analyzing what the hell is going on in his head. So again, when you read one of the benefits of reading biographies and autobiographies, these are life stories. But you’re not thinking about that person. You’re thinking about you. You’re thinking, oh, I know exactly how that feels. Or, oh, I don’t want to be like that. And as fascinating as you see this push and pull between euphoria and terror. They’re being proud of himself because he’s really skilled at what he does. To being completely depressed in an agony, emotional agony, especially with losing. Something that Andre Agassi has in common with a lot of the great entrepreneurs is they hate losing more than they love winning. And there’s so many times, like there’s one time when he loses in a tournament, he goes to this park and he says, I found myself surrounded by a group of homeless men. I dump out my tennis bag. I pull out all the rackets. Each of them is worth hundreds of dollars. And I pass them around. He’s handing out his tennis rackets to a bunch of homeless guys in a park. Here, help yourselves. I sure as hell won’t be needing them. (Time 0:23:41)
  • Rebellion Became A Brand
    • During rebellions Andre cultivated a distinctive look and persona that polarized fans and media.
    • His rebellion unintentionally turned him into a highly marketable, differentiated brand. Transcript: Speaker 1 I’ve had it. I cannot do this anymore. And he has a great line about this. He says, whatever rage I have, I turn it on myself. And so he’s rebelling this entire time. He’s got a mohawk. He’s dyeing his hair. He’s got these earrings. He’s wearing these crazy outfits. He’s yelling at himself. He’s cursing at himself. In some cases, in many cases, he gets kicked out of tournaments because of all the profanity that he’s yelling. But the unexpected commercial or business benefit of this is he is a singular property. He has turned himself into a completely differentiated property. He doesn’t look or dress or act like any other players. And as a result of this, the fans start imitating him. And then his sponsors are able to move a lot of product. This happens throughout the story. And it’s not something he was doing intentionally. I noticed something on their faces of the fans too. The way they watch me and ask for my autograph. The way they scream as I enter an arena. This makes me uncomfortable, but it also satisfies something deep inside me. Some hidden craving I didn’t know was there. I’m shy, but I like attention. I cringe when fans start dressing like me, but I also dig it. I’m flattered by the imitators, embarrassed, thoroughly confused. (Time 0:25:09)
  • Have Someone To Organize Your Head
    • Find a trusted confidant to organize thoughts and counter the inner critic.
    • Andre relied on JP and later others to help him process emotions and decisions. Transcript: Speaker 1 And so one thing that Charlie Munger says, I think is really important. He says, you know, anybody engaged in difficult work needs somebody they can organize their thoughts with. That person should be somebody, you know, you like and admire and trust. Some people do this to friends, coaches, therapists, some turn to religion. And so Andre considers him a Christian, but he never felt that he was close to God. He couldn’t find the right church. And one day he stumbles into this church with a pastor who doesn’t want to be called a pastor, this guy named JP. JP is going to be one of Andre’s lifelong friends, somebody that will travel the world with Andre and somebody Andre will talk to and call when he has difficult times in his life. And this is the first time he meets him. He insists that we call him JP. He says he wants his church to feel unlike a church. He wants it to feel like a home where friends gather. He doesn’t have any answers, he says. He just happens to have read the Bible a few dozen times, front to back, and has some observations to share. JP’s church is the first one where I felt truly close to God. And so they spend a lot of time together. They have these long conversations. Andre usually feels better after he talks to somebody. He says it must be bizarre to have strangers think they know me and love me beyond reason, while others think they know me and resent me beyond reason, all while I’m a relative stranger To myself. What makes it perverse, I tell him, is that it all revolves around tennis and I hate tennis. He has this conversation so many times in the book and every time the person says, yeah, okay, but you don’t actually hate tennis. And he says, yes, yes, I do. I talk about my father. I tell JP about the yelling, the pressure, the rage, the abandonment. JP gets a funny look on his face. You do realize, don’t you, that God isn’t anything like your father? You know that, don’t you? God, he says, is the opposite of your father. God isn’t mad at you all the time. God isn’t yelling in your ear, harping on your imperfections. The voice you hear all the time, that angry voice, that’s not God. That’s still your father. I turn to him. Do me a favor and say that again. He does, word for word. Say it once more. He does. I thank him. (Time 0:27:36)
  • Trainer As Surrogate Father
    • Gil, Andre’s trainer, became a surrogate father and safe place where conversation counted as training.
    • Being with Gil made Andre feel, for the first time, that his life belonged to him. Transcript: Speaker 1 And even at this point in his career, Andre’s making a ton of money. He’s famous. He’s winning a lot of tournaments. And he goes over to Gil’s house on Christmas Eve. And Gil can’t understand it. It’s like, wouldn’t you be happier at a party? Why aren’t you? You’re young. Why aren’t you hanging out with your friends? And Andre says something that’s very revealing here that it finally clicked for me what he’s doing. I tell him my life has never for once day belonged to me. My life has always belonged to someone else. First, my father, then Nick. Nick is the guy that ran the tennis academy in Florida and always, always tennis. Even my body wasn’t my own until I met you because he’s his trainer who is doing the one thing that fathers are supposed to do, making me stronger. So being here, Gil, with you and your family, I feel for the first time in my life that I’m where I belong. And that’s when you realize what Andre’s doing. He’s looking for a father. He wants a father. And Gil plays that role of protector. (Time 0:30:41)
  • Simplify Goals And Lower Risk
    • Simplify goals: break big objectives into small, countable units like 21 sets to win a slam.
    • Focus on consistency over perfection and exploit opponents’ weaknesses. Transcript: Speaker 1 And so he’s one of the most entertaining characters in the book. They invite him to dinner and they’re going to ask Brad to be Andre’s manager. And they’re asking him, he’s like, hey, what do you think of Andre’s game? And he goes, you want to know what I think of his game? That’s right. You want me to be honest? Please. Brutally honest? Don’t hold back. It’s not rocket science, he says. If I were you with your skills, your talent, your return and footwork, I’d dominate. But you lost the fire you had when you were 16. That kid taking the ball early, being aggressive. What the hell happened to that kid? Brad says my overall problem, the problem that threatens to end my career prematurely, the problem that feels like my father’s legacy, is perfectionism. You always try to be perfect, he says, and you always fall short. And it fucks with your head. Your confidence is shot. And perfectionism is the reason. You try to hit a winner on every ball when you, this is so good, when just being steady, consistent, meat and potatoes would be enough to win 90% of the time. Stop thinking about yourself and your own game, and remember that the guy on the other side of the net has weaknesses. Attack his weaknesses. 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. Instead of you succeeding, make him fail. Better yet, let him fail. By trying for a perfect shot with every ball, you’re stacking the odds against yourself. You don’t need to assume so much risk. Fuck that. Just keep the ball moving back and forth. Nice and easy. Solid. 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 yourself miserable. Perfection? There’s about five times a year when 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 50% game-wise, but 95% head-wise, you’re going to win. But if you’re 95% game-wise and 50% head-wise, you’re going to lose, lose, lose. Put it this way. It takes 21 sets to win a slam. That’s all. You just need to win 21 sets. Seven matches, best of five. That’s 21. Simplify. Simplify. Every time you win a set, say to yourself, that’s one down. That’s one in my pocket. (Time 0:37:02)
  • From Champion To Rock Bottom
    • At his low point Andre sank into drug use, missing matches and plummeting to world No.141.
    • Rock bottom felt cozy yet immobilizing, offering rest from the pressure to perform. Transcript: Speaker 1 You can think about his career this way. Peak dominance is from like 1990 to 1995, thereabouts. Sharp decline is going to happen the end of 96 to 97. Rock bottom is going to be 97. And then he’s got this legendary comeback in 98, 99. And during this fall, this is where he loses motivation. He has no self-control. He’s got a bunch of injuries. He starts doing drugs. He stops training seriously he’s depressed and he goes all the way from number one all the way down to 141 and he starts to have to play these challenger tournaments which literally unheard Of there was no former number one in the world playing these challenger tournaments that he starts again at the very very bottom and one of the sources this uncontrollable anger it reminds You a lot of his father so he’s in he’s playing in the tournament his opponent just broke his serve and he says i cannot let go of my sudden anger i look up at the sky and fantasize about flying Away since i can’t fly away at least this tennis ball can fly away be free little ball i whack it high above the stands and out of the stadium automatic warning the umpire says into the microphone, Code violation, warning, abuse of ball. Fuck you. I say he calls over the ref. He tells the ref that Augusty said, fuck you. The referee approached and says, did you say that? Yes. Then this match is over. Fine. Fuck you too. And he just starts to lose and lose and lose and get more depressed. Rock, and this is what he says. This is very fascinating. Rock bottom can be very cozy because at least you’re at rest. You know you’re not going anywhere for a while. (Time 0:49:04)
  • Start Over Completely To Rebuild
    • Commit to radical change when you see self-destruction: overhaul body, mind, and routine from square one.
    • Use repetition and mantras to anchor new habits and maintain commitment. Transcript: Speaker 1 And this is why Brad is one of the most important characters in this book. Brad has seen enough. He’s not going to stick around and let Andre destroy himself. Andre, we’ve got a big decision to make, and we’re going to make it before we leave this room tonight. What’s up? What do you mean? We’re not continuing like this. You’re better than this. At least you used to be better. You either need to quit or start over, but you can’t go on embarrassing yourself like this. What? Let me finish. You have game left. At least I think you do. You can still win. Good things can still happen, but you need a full overhaul. You need to go back to the beginning. You need to pull out everything and regroup. I’m talking square one. You need to get your body right, get your mind right, and then start at the bottom. I say nothing. I stare out the window. I hate tennis more than ever, but I hate myself more. I tell myself, so what if you hate tennis? Who cares? All those people out there, all the millions who hate what they do for a living, they do it anyway. So you hate tennis. Hate it all you want. You still need to respect it and yourself. I say, okay, Brad, I’m not ready for it to be over. I’m all in. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. And so Andre makes the decision. He buys in. He wants to change. Remember, he said, I hate myself. I hate what I’m doing to myself. Time to change, Andre. You can’t go on like this. Change, change, change. I say this word to myself several times a day, every day while buttering my morning toast, while brushing my teeth. Less a warning than a soothing chant. (Time 0:52:56)
  • Locker-Room Truth That Sparked A Win
    • Brad’s locker-room tirade snapped Andre from panic to action during a French Open final comeback.
    • That intervention helped Andre win a major and feel gratitude for his whole journey. Transcript: Speaker 1 He’s in the final of the French Open. He’s clawed his way back all the way from out of the top 100, and he finds himself currently losing. There’s a rain delay. So he goes back to the locker room. And again, I think this goes back to that quote by Brad Jacobs, like so much of success is keeping your head in a good place. This also ties together something you and I have been talking about, which is the importance of having people around you that want the best for you that will tell you the truth. And so Brad comes into the locker room with Andre and Andre says he’s too good, Brad. He’s just too good. I can’t beat him. This fucker is 6’5”, serving bombs, missing. He’s hurting me with his serve. He’s hurting me with his backhand. I can’t get back in the point on his serve. I don’t have this. Brad stares. Then he starts screaming. Brad never raises his voice to anybody. You tell me he’s too good? How the fuck would you know? You can’t judge how he’s playing. You’re so confused out there. So blind with panic. I’m surprised you can even see him. Too good. You’re making him look good. Just start letting go. If you’re going to lose, at least lose on your own terms. Hit the fucking ball. And if you’re not sure where to hit it, here’s an idea. Just hit it to the same place he hits it. If he hits a backhand cross court, you hit a backhand cross court. Just hit yours a little better. You don’t have to be better than the whole fucking world, remember? You just have to be better than one other guy. Just hit. Just fucking hit. If we’re going to lose today, fine. I can live with it, but let’s lose on our terms. The last 13 days, I’ve seen you lay it on the line. I’ve seen you rip it under pressure. Mame, guys. So please stop feeling sorry for yourself and stop telling me he’s too good. And for the love of God, stop trying to be perfect. Just hit the ball. Hit the ball. Do you hear me, Andre? See the ball? Hit the ball. Make this guy deal with you. Make him feel you out there. If you’re going down, okay, go down. But go down with blazing. Always, always, always go down with both guns blazing. He opens a locker and slams it shut. The door flaps and clangs. The referee appears. We’re back on court, gentlemen. Fast forward to the end of this match. Championship point. Half the crowd is yelling my name. The other half is yelling to be quiet. I hit another sizzling first serve, and when Medevev steps to the side and takes a chicken wing swing, I’m the second person to know that I’ve won the French Open. Brad is the first. Medevev is third. The ball lands well beyond the baseline. Watching it fall is one of the greatest joys of my life. I raise my arms and my racket falls on the clay. I’m sobbing. I’m rubbing my head. I’m terrified by how good this feels. Winning isn’t supposed to feel this good. Winning is never supposed to matter this much. But it does. It does. I can’t help it. I’m overjoyed. Without all the ups and downs, even the misery, this wouldn’t be possible. I even reserve some gratitude for myself, for all the good and bad choices that led me here. (Time 0:57:51)