Just like us

When I saw Andre Agassi, tennis great, in the media about his new autobiography, Open, I didn’t give it a second thought. I am a tennis fan. I grew up playing the sport, and still do. I was even an admirer of his phenomenal return game and performance towards the end of his career. Yet even with scandal-creating glimpses of Agassi dabbling in crystal meth, I was not racing to the bookstore to snag a copy.

I have a bizarre habit of not being interested in anything at the same time that most people are interested. My seriously delayed embrace of Harry Potter and Weeds are just two shining examples of my quirky ways.

So it was both shocking and completely predictable that I was handed a copy of Open, and was truly engrossed. It was certainly entertaining but more than that, it was raw, and painfully honest. Even if it turns out to be a fake, it was REAL. And for that, Agassi has earned my appreciation and respect.

Let me explain.

For those of you who are familiar with the contents of the book, or who could see it in Agassi’s eyes and demeanor throughout his tennis career, he writes about his tortured relationship with tennis.

Much like Michael Jackson, his wife Steffi Graf, and what seem to be many other greats, he had an obsessive father who was ruthless about discipline, training, and pressure to achieve. The cruel irony being that this preparation enabled their greatness. They were conflicted with the fame associated with their abilities and yet they could not imagine a world without engaging those talents. Nor could the world for that matter.

As we relive Agassi’s life to date, he tells us about how Jimmy Connors was basically a huge prick (surprise surprise), how he (Agassi) wore a hairpiece for the better part of his career, and that he had a long and adorable crush on Steffi Graf. Familiar maxims also pass by: Money can’t buy you love. Or happiness. “Fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be”. Blah Blah. We have heard it many times. But still, the grass is greener on the other side. Easy for someone to say who can hang with the cast of Friends, eat at the best restaurants, and rub elbows with Nelson Mandela!

But if you are to wade past all of that, I see in Agassi’s narrative, a common human struggle (or at least for me). Misunderstood by others, and ourselves, we seek and yearn for something we cannot articulate, something elusive but that we know is there. We succeed and fail, are joyous and then miserable. We experience the repetitive, relentless cycle and feel a dull pain for something more.

A normal person might read what I wrote, and think on my interpretation of Agassi’s book and think: damn that is depressing.

Luckily, since we have established that I am quirky, I actually see something different.

Yes, life is a constant, and often lonely struggle. But we ALL share in common, the struggle and the journey.

Open helped reaffirm that I’m not the only one. And neither are you.

above photo from - http://knopfdoubleday.com/agassi/

He Had that Something...

I am a fan of MJ. I would not consider myself a die-hard fan but I am a fan. Since my younger years, his music moved me and his movements and sense of rhythm were awe-inspiring. At that age, we just called that: cool.

Though I mourned the loss of a great like Michael Jackson. I didn’t think I would be that emotionally affected like the scores of fans that were devastated enough to wail in such sorrow and anguish.

Yet I became surprisingly overwhelmed by a sense of something that I can’t completely articulate upon seeing this icon known as Michael Jackson be remembered, honored, cherished, loved in the very public memorial service in Los Angeles that was re-broadcasted on BET. Maya Angelou said it best through her words read aloud by Queen Latifah.

Yes, it was a lot of hype.

Yes, the same press that spent years harassing, ridiculing, and chastising MJ was in some ways yet again, capitalizing... But this time on his death.

Yes, over the years, that same media and a likely reality, exposed a darker side of Michael Jackson in his questionable decisions, and his relationship with children. I don’t think anyone can deny that he was troubled in many very apparent ways.

But watching his video clips, pictures, reflections of him by his admirers, friends and family, made it clear that no one can deny his genius, his magic.

What is this “magic,” that special something? I had a very knowing sensation in me as I was watching Michael’s growth from young to older during the broadcast. It is the same feeling that I get when I experience other brilliant dancers, musicians, athletes, and artists. It is the glimpse of God in them that gives me this feeling. I know God is an extremely loaded word but here I mean: a higher consciousness, something of God or however you want to phrase it. Basically, I mean something special, which logic and the mind cannot easily explain away. Something that, if you quiet your mind……………………..you will recognize without realizing.

Micheal had that something that cannot be explained. In his songs, dance, words, eyes, body, being. And if you think of it that way, it is really easy to understand how we as humans responded to him. Some of us worshipped him like an idol. Why? Because we saw that something in him and we worshipped that something. Some of us deemed him creepy, a pedophile, screwed up, cheesy, over-hyped, ugly. Why? Because we could not see, we did not recognize, or were too afraid to see that something in him. There is no wrong or right in that. Really, it is what it is. It has happened time immemorial to individuals that burst into our world living by something other than the status quo. For better or for worse.

In my case, I felt something very heartening in accepting the feeling that I told you I could not articulate. I still can’t do that something justice. But I can tell you that it was beautiful and I whole heartedly agree that something indescribably amazing has passed on with MJ. It is my hope that I will see that greatness manifest itself in another beautiful form in this lifetime. So our children can be inspired and fall in love with that something again. I have no doubt that we will.