When it was released, this autobiography by American tennis player Andre Agassi was scandalous for the insulated world of professional tennis--a sport in which cussing umpires is a serious offense. The scandal was that Agassi confesses to experimenting with meth, a hard amphetamine, during his pro career. Truth is he did it twice, mostly out of boredom on the spur of the moment. And while high, all he really did was clean his house. So controversy is not the real story--that's the advertising.

The book's gossipy nuggets are these: Agassi hated Jim Courier until retirement (now they're friends); he never liked Michael Chang, chafing at the way Chang repeatedly thanked God every time he won; he declares Jimmy Conners a major irredeemable asshole (a judgement corroborated by many others); and he thinks Sampras, his career-long rival, is robotic, focused solely on tennis to the exclusion of all else. Ironically, Agassi's first wife, Christie Brinkley, seems to think the same of Agassi--that he's guilty of tennis tunnel-vision. Agassi doesn't seem to notice this irony. Ultimately the high-profile couple separated because they had nothing in common and each of them was focused on their respective careers.
This was a fine book, a good tour through a tennis life, but Agassi's Open is further evidence that autobiographies by musicians and, more so, athletes, are often boring. These gifted people have a hyper-focused passion and goal--to be the best, and they rarely put in the time and get the perspective needed to examine and expand their story into an insightful dialectic ready for the bookshelves.