On the Other Side of Tired: A Book’s Return and a Life Revisited Thank you, Andre Agassi!

I love to ask questions about books. What is your favorite? Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction? Do you have a favorite writer? Are you partial to a "real" book or Kindle? Do you use the library or shop Amazon? And do you re-read certain books? Why or why not?

One of my favorite books—and probably my favorite sports read—is a work of nonfiction; it is Open by American tennis player Andre Agassi. His autobiography captivated my attention and imagination because, at one point in my life, I was madly in love with tennis. I was both a player and a fan. Reading his stories and recalling those memories transported me back to an era I followed closely. I knew the players, the rivalries, the highs and lows, the victories and defeats—both on and off the court. Agassi’s chronicle left me with only one reaction: What a life!

I bought my copy of Open shortly after it was published in 2009. My dear friend Bill and I went to hear Agassi speak about the book in Palo Alto on a Friday right after school. Bill and I both taught in the Religious Studies department. He coached boys’ and girls’ tennis, and at that time I was coaching cross country. Part of what makes my friendship with Bill so special is his sheer passion for tennis and his remarkable knowledge of the game. Time and again I sought his technical analysis, recall of specific points, and insight into the mental challenges of the sport. The only complication was that I had to be sure he already knew the outcome of a match before bringing it up. Why? He watched many of them on tape delay. Teaching and coaching keeps you busy.

with Bill at Indian Wells Center Court, 2009

To hear Agassi speak with that same depth—only magnified by lived experience—was unforgettable. He brought the pages of Open to life, blending candor, humor, and vulnerability in a way that made the afternoon feel both intimate and electric. It remains one of those shared moments that, even years later, still spark gratitude and a smile. We reminisce about this experience often (I am so bummed we did not take a picture with Agassi!!!)

I integrated Open into my curriculum as much as I could. However, Agassi retired in 2006. In spite of his eight grand slam titles and former number one ranking, his star power had naturally faded. Still, I found an ideal audience for his lessons and insights in a group of parents who enrolled in an evening section of Sports and Spirituality. One mom was so eager to read more that she asked to borrow my copy. I loved the book so much that I was happy to pass it along to anyone willing to listen and learn.

At Wimbledon 2022

The class ended. Her son graduated. I moved to another school. And somewhere in all that transition, the book was lost in the shuffle.

I asked a colleague to follow up with the parent about getting my book back. It never happened. I eventually purchased another copy, but it wasn’t the same. My original had been signed. It featured a nameplate. It carried my tabs, highlights, and handwritten notes. I had done more than simply read that book—I lived with it. I uncovered analogies about life and love. I challenged the author's claims and marveled at his experiences. I made connections to spiritual truths and found meaning in the memories. That exact copy was a witness to those treasures. 

From time to time, I would think of my book and get upset. I have been told that if you lend something to someone, you should not expect to get it back. Seems like a lousy proposition to me, but I understand the guardrails and their purpose. I had no other choice but to let it go.

In the passing years, I have not re-read this book. However, I think this is a worthy proposition. Why? It's not that the book changes but we do. Life happens. We have new experiences—chosen and unchosen, welcome and unwelcome, gifted and graced as well as tragic and solemn. I think even a book like Open could speak to life—and my life—in new ways.

Last week, I returned from lunch to find a bag on my desk. Inside was the very copy of Open that I lent out six years prior. Inside the book was a very thoughtful note that said 

My sincere apologies for not returning your book in a timely manner. Clearly this is a beloved book given all the tabs and notes. I found it recently so I am sending my son to ensure this amazing book is reunited with its owner. Happy New Year!

I couldn't help but wonder what the universe might be telling me. I decided to take a look at what spoke to me in the past. The first passage I highlighted made me smile. Agassi writes

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 every day 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.

The theologian Ron Rolheiser believes that "God speaks to every element in the language it can understand." It wasn't my first language, but I speak the language of tennis proficiently. No accent. Somewhere in that love affair, God was speaking to me. 

I revisited my tabs and margin notes and found myself asking: why read fiction when real life can be this compelling? The climb back to world No. 1. His father betting on him as a boy against Jim Brown. A detour to Springsteen’s Reunion Tour in Paris during the French Open. Meeting Nelson Mandela with Brooke Shields. Falling in love with Steffi Graf—his wife and the mother of his two children. Those stories are still compelling...and incredible. I had to wonder how and why some stories come to us. And I questioned, what could I do to make others happen. Is that even possible?

That view of Open is too short-sighted. Agassi spent three years writing the book, and at the launch event he emphasized that he had to tell this story. It wasn’t surprising to hear that he wanted to make sense of his own life, but I was struck by his insistence on telling the truth behind what fans thought they knew. He admits, for example, that he hated tennis. Through writing Open, he came to terms with his father, his failures, his divorces, his injuries, and ultimately his identity beyond winning. He sought to offer hope through honesty — and even the cover image quietly proclaims that message.

So why here? Why now? What was the universe trying to tell me about my very own copy of Open finding its way back to me. Next to this classic photo is a quote that I highlighted. It says 

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.

It's safe to say in the 16 years since I have read Open, yes, I have changed. But in under two months time, my entire world has been turned upside down as my mom has battling Stage 3 ovarian cancer. This terrible disease came on so incredibly fast and my mom, my family and I are all dealing with its demands, her frailty and struggles. She is tired of being sick. I don't know that I have ever felt this tired either. This journey isn't a short one, nor is it an easy one. I don't go at it alone but I take comfort in what this message offers for me, even if just for today. I need to read it...or this case, re-read it.

And for the record, I love Kindle. That being said, a story like this would never happen through that platform now would it....

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