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Far more than a superb memoir about the highest levels of professional tennis, Open is the engrossing story of a remarkable life. Andre Agassi had his life mapped out for him before he left the crib. But as he reveals in this searching autobiography, off the court he was often unhappy and confused, unfulfilled by his great achievements in a sport he had come to resent. Agassi writes candidly about his early success and his uncomfortable relationship with fame, his marriage to Brooke Shields, his growing interest in philanthropy, and—described in haunting, point-by-point detail—the highs and lows of his celebrated career. Honest in a way that such books seldom are. An uncommonly well-written sports memoir.

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EUR 7, Il bar delle grandi speranze Italian Edition. EUR 6, L'arte della vittoria: Autobiografia del fondatore della Nike Italian Edition. Phil Knight. EUR 9, La versione di Fenoglio I casi del maresciallo Fenoglio Vol. Gianrico Carofiglio. Un capitano Italian Edition. Francesco Totti. EUR 10, Still, this feels different. This confusion is more frightening. More total. I look up. I remember now.

I moved from the bed to the floor in the middle of the night. I do that most nights. Better for my back.


Too many hours on a soft mattress causes agony. I count to three, then start the long, difficult process of standing. With a cough, a groan, I roll onto my side, then curl into the fetal position, then flip over onto my stomach. Now I wait, and wait, for the blood to start pumping. But I wake as if ninety-six. After three decades of sprinting, stopping on a dime, jumping high and landing hard, my body no longer feels like my body, especially in the morning.

I run quickly through the basic facts. My name is Andre Agassi. We have two children, a son and daughter, five and three. My last U.

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In fact my last tournament ever. I play tennis for a living, even though I hate tennis, hate it with a dark and secret passion, and always have. As this last piece of identity falls into place, I slide to my knees and in a whisper I say: Please let this be over. Now, from the next room, I hear Stefanie and the children.

My overwhelming desire to see and touch them, plus a powerful craving for caffeine, gives me the inspiration I need to hoist myself up, to go vertical. Hate brings me to my knees, love gets me on my feet. I glance at the bedside clock. Seven thirty.

Stefanie let me sleep in. The fatigue of these final days has been severe.

Apart from the physical strain, there is the exhausting torrent of emotions set loose by my pending retirement. Now, rising from the center of the fatigue comes the first wave of pain. I grab my back. It grabs me. I feel as if someone snuck in during the night and attached one of those anti-theft steering wheel locks to my spine.

How can I play in the U. Open with the Club on my spine? Will the last match of my career be a forfeit? I was born with spondylolisthesis, meaning a bottom vertebra that parted from the other vertebrae, struck out on its own, rebelled. When the nerves protest their cramped quarters, when they send out distress signals, a pain runs up and down my leg that makes me suck in my breath and speak in tongues.

At such moments the only relief is to lie down and wait. Sometimes, however, the moment arrives in the middle of a match. Then the only remedy is to alter my game—swing differently, run differently, do everything differently.

Told to change, my muscles join the spinal rebellion, and soon my whole body is at war with itself. Gil, my trainer, my friend, my surrogate father, explains it this way: My body has been saying that for a long time, I tell Gil. Since January, however, my body has been shouting it. My body has moved to Florida and bought a condo and white Sansabelts. Much of this negotiation revolves around a cortisone shot that temporarily dulls the pain.

Before the shot works, however, it causes its own torments. I got one yesterday, so I could play tonight. It was the third shot this year, the thirteenth of my career, and by far the most alarming.

The doctor, not my regular doctor, told me brusquely to assume the position. I stretched out on his table, face down, and his nurse yanked down my shorts. The doctor said he needed to get his seven-inch needle as close to the inflamed nerves as possible. His attempts to circumvent them, to break the Club, sent me through the roof. First he inserted the needle. Then he positioned a big machine over my back to see how close the needle was to the nerves.

He needed to get that needle almost flush against the nerves, he said, without actually touching. If it were to touch the nerves, even if it were to only nick the nerves, the pain would ruin me for the tournament. It could also be life- changing. In and out and around, he maneuvered the needle, until my eyes filled with water. Finally he hit the spot.

In went the cortisone. The burning sensation made me bite my lip. Then came the pressure. I felt infused, embalmed. The tiny space in my spine where the nerves are housed began to feel vacuum packed. The pressure built until I thought my back would burst. Words to live by, Doc. Soon the pain felt wonderful, almost sweet, because it was the kind that you can tell precedes relief. But maybe all pain is like that. I limp out to the living room of our suite. My son, Jaden, and my daughter, Jaz, see me and scream.

Daddy, Daddy! They jump up and down and want to leap on me.

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I stop and brace myself, stand before them like a mime imitating a tree in winter. They stop just before leaping, because they know Daddy is delicate these days, Daddy will shatter if they touch him too hard.

I pat their faces and kiss their cheeks and join them at the breakfast table. Jaden asks if today is the day. And then after today are you retire? A new word he and his younger sister have learned. When they say it, they always leave off the last letter. Not if I win, son. If I win tonight, I keep playing. But if you lose— we can have a dog?

To the children, retire equals puppy. Stefanie and I have promised them that when I stop training, when we stop traveling the world, we can buy a puppy. Yes, buddy, when I lose, we will buy a dog. He smiles. He hopes Daddy loses, hopes Daddy experiences the disappointment that surpasses all others. Going to see the bones.

I look at Stefanie. I think of my twisted vertebrae. I think of my skeleton on display at the museum with all the other dinosaurs.

Tennis-aurus Rex. Jaz interrupts my thoughts. She hands me her muffin. She needs me to pick out the blueberries before she eats it. Our morning ritual. Each blueberry must be surgically removed, which requires precision, concentration. Stick the knife in, move it around, get it right up to the blueberry without touching. The time is drawing near. Andre Agassi. EUR 9, Open French Edition. EUR 14, Open Dutch Edition.

La nostra storia. Un capitano.

Open: An Autobiography (English Edition) eBook: Andre Agassi: Kindle Store

Francesco Totti. EUR 10, Visualizza tutta la Descrizione prodotto. Dettagli prodotto Formato: Formato Kindle Dimensioni file: HarperCollins 7 novembre Venduto da: Amazon Media EU S. Inglese ASIN: Abilitato X-Ray: Quali altri articoli acquistano i clienti, dopo aver visualizzato questo articolo?

La mia storia Saggi. John Carlin. EUR 8, Per gruppi clienti e interessi. Collezione Editoriale. Ti ringraziamo per la tua valutazione. Condividi i tuoi pensieri con altri clienti.

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Scrivi una recensione cliente. Leggi altre recensioni che citano molto bello lingua originale ottimo libro molto interessante bel libro formato kindle bellissimo libro appassionati di tennis appassionato di tennis libro molto ben scritto great book versione in italiano andre agassi fino alla fine grande campione inglese e quindi versione in inglese formato cartaceo letto tutto di un fiato.

Formato Kindle Acquisto verificato. Una parabola di caduta e rinascita meravigliosamente narrata. Un libro coinvolgente, che ha la sua forza in una struttura narrativa a prova di bomba in cui si incastra la vita di un protagonista che, come si suol dire, ha una storia da raccontare. Non solo per amanti del gioco anche se una passione per il tennis anni '90 aiuta.

Una persona l'ha trovato utile. Probably because I love tennis and I'm playing it, probably because it is really well written, probably thanks to Kindle's WordWise function. Grazie ad amazon per avermi fatto leggere in inglese, ho speso bene il mio tempo e i miei soldi, anche se all'inizio ero convinto che sarebbero stati soldi buttati.

Andre is not making you a fan of tennis intentionally, but somehow he is. Nothing is conquered without sacrifices and all your energies involved. Un libro da leggere e da far leggere agli adolescenti. Splendido libro e non solo per gli appassionati di tennis. Apre uno squarcio sulla vita di uno sportivo professionista, le tante sofferenze e il prezzo duro da pagare per arrivare ad esprimersi a livelli di eccellenza sportiva, le soddisfazioni ma anche le delusioni che portano comunque alla maturazione dell'uomo che lo spingono, lui che aveva abbandonato la scuola per dedicarsi a diventare un tennista professionista, a creare una fondazione per far studiare e dare un futuro a bambini e ragazzi che altrimenti sarebbero finiti sulla strada.

Letto molto tempo dopo l' uscita. Ero molto incuriosita ma contemporaneamente diffidavo un po'. Non so nulla di tennis, ma ho apprezzato fino in fondo questa autobiografia, dove dominano i dubbi e i grandi ideali. Leggibile tranquillamente in lingua originale anche per livello intermedio come me. Molto interessante la storia di Agassi Alle volte sembra un po' troppo romanzata E' scritto in un inglese abbastanza semplice e godibile.

Si legge velocemente. Sul Kindle nessun problema. Vedi tutte le recensioni. Visualizzare altre recensioni di questo articolo?

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