I recently finished reading Andre Agassi’s autobiography “Open” and I can’t stop thinking about it. To tell the truth, I bought this book a few years ago, four or five (or maybe even six-seven, as kids would joke). Somehow I postponed reading it expecting to find a recount of how one of the most legendary tennis players rose to a stardome and how great his ascent was.

What I found on the pages of this great book shocked me to the core. It wasn’t a feel-good story about a tennis legend, filled with inspirational quotes about loving your sport and chasing your dreams. It was the exact opposite of that. And that’s why it matters.

“Open” is the most honest sports autobiography I’ve ever read. Agassi doesn’t hide the ugly parts. He doesn’t pretend his success came from passion and natural talent. He tells you straight: “I hate tennis. I’ve always hated tennis.”

And then he tells you how he became one of the greatest players in history anyway.

If you’re a fencing parent wondering whether your child’s ambivalence about the sport means they should quit, read this book. If you’re a fencer who sometimes questions why you’re doing this, read this book. If you think success only comes to people who love every minute of training, read this book. If you think you must possess a special talent to become a great fencer, read this book. If you think you hit a plateau or, worse, your deterioration in results is a sign you should drop, read this book. 

Read this book because the truth Agassi tells is more valuable than a thousand motivational posters.

Not Glory – Grit

When I started to read the book, I expected to see a story about a kid who fell in love with tennis, dreamed of Wimbledon, and rode that passion all the way to slam after slam.

But the story was different. It was about a kid whose father forced him to hit thousands of balls per day using a homemade ball machine he called “the dragon.” It’s about a teenager sent to a tennis academy he hated, where he was miserable and desperate to escape. It’s about an adult who made it to the top of his sport while struggling with the fact that he fundamentally didn’t enjoy playing it.

And yet – and this is the part that matters – Agassi didn’t quit amidst all these challenges. He showed up, trained and competed. Failed time and again, shook it off and returned the next day. In the process he won 8 Grand Slams among his overall 60 career titles, and he won Olympic Games in 1996 Atlanta, holding number one world ranking for many times.

That’s grit that builds champions, and not the fairy tale version where passion carries you through. What “Open” shows is that it is a discipline that carries you through when passion is nowhere to be found.

The Training Nobody Talks About

The chapters about Agassi’s training are brutal, an infinite time more brutal than what most fencers do.

He describes the monotony, the physical pain and the mental exhaustion. There were many days when every cell in his body wanted to stop, but he kept going anyway. He talks about the injuries that should have ended his career but he pushed through and the real doubt that plagued him even at the height of his success.

What he doesn’t show is the movie-like ascent to the top, the training montage version where inspirational music plays while the athlete gets stronger and more confident. He talks about the real thing – grinding through practice sessions you hate because that’s what the work requires.

Every fencing parent who’s watched their kid drag themselves to practice after a long school day needs to read these chapters. Every fencer who’s questioned whether they’re tough enough, disciplined enough, committed enough – this is what commitment actually looks like.

You don’t have to have constant enthusiasm, sustainable for weeks, months and years. What you really need is to show up when you don’t want to.

The Father

Agassi’s father is a difficult figure in this book – obsessive, demanding, often crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. The tennis ball machine, called “the dragon”, that young Agassi was forced to hit against for hours every day becomes a symbol of the complicated relationship between parental ambition and a child’s agency.

I’m not going to lie – some parts made me deeply uncomfortable as both a coach and a parent. There are lines Agassi’s father crossed that shouldn’t be crossed.

But Agassi himself has a complex relationship with his father’s methods. He doesn’t present a simple narrative of abuse and trauma. He acknowledges the damage while also recognizing that his father’s relentless push created the foundation for his success. It’s complicated and messy, but nakedly honest.

For fencing parents, this is valuable reading not as a model to follow, but as a mirror to examine your own motivations. Are you pushing your child toward excellence or toward your own unfulfilled dreams? Where’s the line between supportive structure and harmful pressure?

Agassi doesn’t give you easy answers. But he makes you think about the questions and your own motives and desires.

The Relationship with the Sport

I think one of the most important things in the book is that Agassi’s hatred of tennis didn’t prevent him from achieving greatness at it. But it did make the journey much harder than it needed to be.

Late in his career, something shifted. Not that he suddenly loved tennis – he never claims that. But he found meaning in it beyond just winning. He found purpose in representing something larger than himself, in being a role model, in using his platform for good through his charitable foundation.

The lesson isn’t “you have to love your sport to succeed.” The lesson is “finding meaning in your sport makes the path more sustainable.”

Frankly for me this was the most difficult concept to grasp. Maybe this is a unique greatness of Agassi – to mega succeed in the sport he hated. Or maybe this is his way to mask his multiple frustrations as hatred but continue to go on regardless. I tend to think it’s the latter.

I think about our fencers all the time in this context. Some genuinely love fencing – they’d be at the club every day if they could, they watch Olympic fencing on YouTube, they geek out over tactics and technique.

Others? They’re good at it. They’re committed to getting better. They show up to practice. But ‘love’ might be too strong a word to describe their relationship with the sport.

And both paths can lead to success. Both types of fencers can achieve remarkable things.

The ones who love it might have an easier time with motivation. The ones who don’t love it might need to work harder to find meaning and purpose. But neither path is wrong. And in any case, there will always be days, weeks, months or even entire seasons when you’ll say ‘I hate fencing’ and yet continue.

The Mental Game

Agassi talks extensively about the mental side of tennis. The pressure of being a public figure. The weight of expectations. The mind games opponents play. The doubt that creeps in during crucial moments.

And crucially – he talks about how he learned to manage these mental challenges. Not through natural talent or innate mental toughness, but through deliberate work with a coach, through developing routines and strategies, through years of trial and error, through relying on his support system of people he loved and trusted.

This connects directly to what I wrote recently about mental warm-up. Agassi didn’t have magical mental resilience. He built it systematically over years, adjusting his ways as he went.

That’s probably the most encouraging message in the book for young athletes: mental toughness isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you develop through consistent practice, just like any other skill.

In any sport you have this mental pressure, and fencing is not immune to this. Young athletes face multiple challenges, from their internal need to justify parents’ and coaches’ trust and expectations, to their peer pressure with results, to their real pressure to qualify to the nationals, or travel team, or get accepted to college. We live in a culture of pressure and expectation and mental resilience is one of the most important traits in modern athletes and people. Learning to master it despite the adversity is a key to success.

Why Fencers Should Read This

If you’re a fencer reading this blog, here’s why “Open” matters for you:

It’s honest about the gap between public success and private struggle. Agassi won eight Grand Slam titles while often being miserable. Success doesn’t mean constant happiness or fulfillment. The euphoria after getting a medal has a short life span, which is okay and normal. The difference between long term achievement and short term glory lies in how you continue the next day, and then more. 

It shows that showing up matters more than feeling motivated. Agassi showed up for decades while hating what he was doing. You can show up to practice even when you don’t feel like it. That’s not weakness – that’s what separates people who achieve from people who don’t.

It demonstrates that finding meaning matters. When Agassi found purpose beyond just winning the burden became more bearable. What meaning can you find in your fencing beyond just results?

It shows that individual success is teamwork. From the very first page to the last one, Agassi constantly talks about his support network – parents, friends, coaches, wife and kids. It’s impossible to imagine any success without such support. As an athlete you need to recognize your need for such people, acknowledge and recognize their contributions. Without them you can’t reach anywhere.

It’s real about the relationship between parents and athletes. If your parents are pushing you hard, this book might help you understand their motivations (even if you don’t agree with their methods). If you’re pushing yourself hard, it might help you understand why.

Why Fencing Parents Should Read This

And if you’re a parent:

It shows what elite-level commitment actually looks like. The book shows the real version of what it means to reach the top and stay there for many years versus the glossy Instagram reels. While most fencers won’t face what Agassi went through, to reach any level of success requires determination. Are you prepared to support them through it? These are questions worth asking honestly.

It illustrates the long-term impact of parental pressure. Agassi’s complicated relationship with his father and with tennis itself is partly the result of how he was pushed as a child. Are you supporting your child’s goals or imposing your own? Are you attuned to your child’s needs, struggles and desires?

It demonstrates that success without joy is hollow. Agassi won everything there was to win in tennis. And for much of his career, it didn’t make him happy. What are you actually hoping your child gets from fencing?

It shows that finding purpose transforms the experience. When Agassi started using his platform for good – his charitable foundation, particularly his work in education – his relationship with tennis changed. Help your child find meaning in fencing beyond just winning.

Final Thoughts

“Open” isn’t a motivational book. It’s not going to pump you up with inspirational quotes about following your dreams and never giving up.

It’s better than that. It’s honest as it shows what the path to excellence actually looks like – the grinding, unglamorous, often joyless work that builds greatness.

It shows that you can achieve remarkable things even when you don’t love what you’re doing. That discipline matters more than passion. That showing up consistently beats feeling motivated occasionally.

But it also shows you the cost of that path. The psychological toll. The complicated relationships. The question of whether it was all worth it.

Again, while sacrifices that Agassi needed to make are not on the same scale for most fencers, we need to remember that our children pay their cost too – the weekends in competitions versus hanging out with friends, school breaks dedicated to fencing camps versus traveling with their family, and many more.

For fencers and fencing parents navigating the competitive journey, these are the real questions. Not “how do I win more?” but “what am I actually doing this for?” and “what impact is this having on me/my child?” and “how do I find meaning in the process, not just the results?”

Agassi doesn’t give you easy answers. But he gives you an honest accounting of one person’s journey to the top of their sport and what it cost to get there.

The real question is not whether you can achieve greatness. But what kind of greatness you actually want, and what you’re willing to sacrifice to get there. Because nothing will ever come without wanting it and willing to go the extra mile, the one that others will stop at because it’s where the fun stops and the real grit starts.

That’s what “Open” forces you to confront. And that’s why every serious fencer and fencing parent should read it.