Metamorphosis Complete

NEW YORK, Aug. 26 -- Few could name the obscure Bahamian whom Andre Agassi was scheduled to play that day. All they wanted -- the autograph-seeking kids, the swooning teenage girls and the legions of weekend hackers -- was to see the greatest sensation in tennis. So they packed a Charlotte tennis club for the United States' 1993 Davis Cup tie with the Bahamas, only to find that Agassi had skipped out on his match and compounded the insult by buzzing the venue in his private jet as he roared out of town.

That was Agassi at age 23: a brash hellion at the peak of his game but still evolving, to put it kindly, as a person. A multimillionaire with a Lamborghini, Ferrari and fleet of Cadillacs, he hardly cared about the one-match suspension that followed or the fans he disappointed. Agassi was more concerned at the time with thumbing his nose at the Davis Cup rulebook, which required him to play his final singles match even though the United States had clinched the victory the day before. He told U.S. Coach Tom Gorman as much, and he told his teammates to look up in the sky for his spectacular parting shot.

Monday night at Arthur Ashe Stadium, Agassi, now 36, will pack a venue again -- not quite the player he was at 23 but a fully evolved man -- to compete in the final tournament of his career, the 2006 U.S. Open.

The end likely will come swiftly, given his arduous draw. But whether he bows out to Andréi Pavel in the first round or plays on, Agassi will bow to all four grandstands afterward, as has been his custom these last years. It's his way of acknowledging that he understands playing tennis for a living is a privilege, not an entitlement to be squandered.

It will matter little to those assembled whether Agassi can replicate his magical performance of last year, when he reached the U.S. Open's final before succumbing to the majestic Roger Federer, or whether he's hobbled by the damaged sciatic nerve that renders his game as painful to watch as it is to play. It will be a love-fest each time Agassi steps onto court in the days to come.

The hosannas are warranted. Agassi is one of only five men to complete a career Grand Slam, winning all four major titles, and he revolutionized the game with his rebellious look and blistering ball-striking.

But the measure of the man doesn't lie in his shot-making any more than it does the length of his hair. It lies in the evolution of the person, who retooled himself with the same resolve that a champion-in-the-making reworks a weak serve.

And his ability to do just that -- under a spotlight that magnified both the brilliance and blunders of his career -- is what makes Agassi so easy to cheer. His renewal and redemption suggest the possibility of our own.

"Andre has changed more as a human being than any athlete I've ever seen or been around," says former champion Jim Courier, 36, a rival since childhood. "He has made this 180-degree shift from someone who was very self-centered and very myopic to a statesman of the game and the caretaker of tennis. Andre has always been an icon, but he shifted gears from this rebellious image to everything that's right about tennis. He's a family man, fully engaged with the game. He has respect for the game; he gives respect back. He has come such a long way as a man that the tennis has been but a part of his journey."

At 17, however, Agassi's most striking quality was a knack for drawing attention to himself. He was Anna Kournikova before she was, triggering a media frenzy solely because of his look -- from his unruly mane of hair down to the hot-pink stretch pants topped by denim shorts -- before he had won anything of consequence. Fans went wild, while peers chafed at his arrogance and excess.

Patrick McEnroe, four years Agassi's senior and never quite his on-court equal, remembers seething over Agassi's lack of respect for the game while getting clobbered at his hands, 6-1, 6-4 at the Canadian Open years ago.

"He was beating the crap out of me, and he sort of started toying around in the match," McEnroe recalls. "I remember getting really upset and saying at one of the changeovers, 'This isn't cool! Just beat me! This is professional. Don't mess around.' He sort of took that to heart and came up later and apologized."

After boycotting Wimbledon three straight years in protest of its staid atmosphere, Agassi bowed to its conventions and donned all-whites for the privilege of contesting its crown. He won the title in 1992, confirming that he was a player of substance despite antics that indicated otherwise. And he collapsed on the grass and wept after the achievement, which included victories over three-time champions Boris Becker and John McEnroe topped by a five-set final against the hard-serving Goran Ivanisevic.

Agassi added U.S. and Australian open titles in the next three years only to see his No. 1 ranking plunge to 141st after injuring his wrist in 1997 and trying to recast himself to suit the Hollywood lifestyle of his first wife, actress Brooke Shields. During that stretch, in which he was forced to play Challenger events in second- and third-tier markets, his transformation began.

Says Patrick McEnroe: "I think part of his awakening was, in some ways, him finally realizing what a gift he had. I think he really tried to get into the Hollywood thing; he really loved his first wife and tried to become a different person. Then he realized, 'I'm a tennis player.' I think he looked in the mirror and saw that he had taken his talent for granted and said, 'I'm never going to let this happen again' -- not only as a tennis player but as a person."

With the help of trainer Gil Reyes, Agassi set about rebuilding himself. A former strength coach at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, Reyes never cracked a whip but deftly steered his protege to the answers he sought. When Agassi asked about nutrition, Reyes brought him a stack of books on the topic.

"Three or four days later, they were read," Reyes recalls, "and Andre said, 'Okay, Gil, I've been thinking: Here's what we need to do.' "

Thus began their journey to reclaim his place atop the sport. This time, Agassi focused on what was essential and pared back everything that wasn't. It was manifested in his look, with nondescript tennis whites supplanting his flashy garb. And it was manifested in the efficiency of his game, refined to keep points as short as possible with shrewdly placed serves, crisp service returns and groundstrokes as unrelenting as a metronome. Off the court he channeled the spoils of his fame to the charitable foundation he founded in 1994, which has raised more than $50 million for needy children in his hometown of Las Vegas.

Agassi was back on top within two years, with a career Grand Slam in hand by virtue of his victory at the 1999 French Open.

"The day I won in Paris was the day that I knew I would never have another regret the rest of my career," Agassi said in announcing his retirement plans earlier this year.

This weekend, on the eve of that retirement, the only regret among those who shared his growing pains is that a career that has already defied the odds can't go on longer.

"I don't think there's anyone that's meant more [to tennis] in the last 20 years," Patrick McEnroe said last week. "He grew up as sort of a kid that obviously had great talent, but didn't really have an understanding of the history of the sport and the traditions and what it means. He's really become the ultimate spokesperson for the game. The players respect him like nobody else. I think everyone in the game does."

None more so than Gorman, the former Davis Cup captain who, when pressed, recalls the frustration he felt when Agassi refused to play that meaningless match so many years ago but can't summon a trace of residual anger. Gorman recalls only the privilege of coaching Agassi, whom he describes as "the rock" of the squad and the most charismatic player he has ever seen.

"I always said nobody was going to retire him -- that he was going to retire himself," Gorman says. "There will not be another Andre Agassi. No way. He's a classic."