Andre Agassi was my first tennis favorite. I was at a friend’s house and wandered into the living room where the television was on – this long blond haired 17 year old kid was so graceful and beautiful and perfect at his sport. Just hit the ball at the right instant with an easy swing – instinctive, one with the ball. A long low forehand that touched the line as it sailed out of reach.
That he turned out to have a unique turn of mind and phrase and life, that he was willing to share it all with us, as he morphed into many different selves. That made it all even better.
But that initial instant of grace – reminded me so much of Mohammed Ali and Oscar Robertson, my only sports heroes to that time – so beautiful in their movement and power and mathematical elegance. No extra movement, yet nothing left undone.