"Derek Jeter took steroids." "Tiger Woods is a robot." "Shaquille O'Neal lost 200 pounds."
These are statements that would shock me more than the recent revelation that Andre Agassi used crystal meth. (Well, except for the one about Tiger. I bet that one's true.)
In an excerpt from his autobiography, which is to be released on Nov. 9 (reserve your copy now!), Agassi admits that he experimented with crystal meth back in 1997 and that he lied to the Association of Tennis Professionals Tour after failing a drug test and persuaded it to dismiss the case against him.
The backlash from the news was understandably harsh. The International Tennis Association said it was "surprised and disappointed." Roger Federer was embarrassed for the integrity of his sport. Martina Navratilova even went so far as the compare Agassi to Roger Clemens.
"Shocking," she told ESPN.com. "Not as much shock that he did it as shock he lied about it and didn't own up to it. He's up there with Roger Clemens, as far as I'm concerned. He owned up to it [in the book], but it doesn't help now."
What bothers me the most, though, is not that Agassi used the drug and lied about it — though in no way am I condoning those actions — but rather the way in which all of this information has come out.
Agassi said that he wanted to come clean and to help any others that might experience similar struggles. Excuse me for being cynical, but it doesn't seem that the incentive to release this information is quite that good-natured.
Tell-all books like this one are generally published with one motivating factor in mind: money. I don't know what Agassi's financial situation is these days; maybe he's blown all his tennis winnings and endorsement money or maybe his bank account is as big as ever. But you'd be hard-pressed to convince me that the prospect of a nice big payday was not the reason that Agassi finally decided to reveal the truth.
We've all seen this act before. After Pete Rose gambled away all his money (shocking, I know), he finally wrote an autobiography and admitted that he wagered on ball games in which he managed (Pete Rose bet on baseball?! Get out of here!). For 20 years, nothing could motivate Rose to admit his mistakes — not the pleas of his fans, not the decrees from the commissioner's office and not even the prospect of getting into the Hall of Fame.
But once he needed the cash, he suddenly felt compelled to clear his conscience.
Agassi's appears to be a similar case. Perhaps the whole story has been a burden to him over the past 12 years, perhaps he just wanted to get it off his chest and perhaps he thought he would be helping others by doing so.
But what exactly about this book is going to move people to live a clean life? Agassi suffered no ill consequences from his misdeeds; he lied to the Tour, got away with it and continued to play professional tennis as a fan favorite for another decade (oh, and he won five majors along the way).
Agassi doesn't seem as though he is admitting his mistakes and begging for forgiveness. Instead, it seems like he simply wants to brag about all that he's gotten away with in his career — and sell a few books while he's at it.
Rafael Nadal recently summarized the bizarre nature of these admissions and their timing quite well: "To me it seems terrible. Why is he saying this now that he has retired? It's a way of damaging the sport that makes no sense."
No, Rafa, it doesn't make any sense. But something tells me it will make quite a few dollars.
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David Heck is a senior majoring in philosophy. He can be reached at David.Heck@tufts.edu.
