When the game’s premier historians reflect on the 2006 US Open and the people who made that tournament an extraordinary and exhilarating adventure showcasing the best that tennis has to offer, they singled out a pair of champions who ultimately carried the fortnight and established themselves unequivocally as towering champions. Roger Federer garnered his third singles title in succession that year, overcoming Andy Roddick in a hard-fought, well-played final, that was settled in four sets. Maria Sharapova celebrated the single finest major of her career, upending Justine Henin for the women’s title with a convincing straight-sets triumph over the diminutive-yet-large-hearted Belgian. They were indisputably the headline performers and the worthiest of champions that year.
Yet that US Open belonged just as much to Andre Agassi as the two eventual winners; in many ways he loomed larger than the champions. Agassi had announced well in advance of the event that his 21st consecutive US Open would be the appropriate time and place to conclude his career, and who could argue with that choice? Agassi had first played his country’s Grand Slam tournament in 1986 as a 16-year-old who exposed his layers of vulnerability. In both 1994, as an unseeded player, and again in 1999, as the favorite, Agassi had ruled at the US Open by playing hard court tennis of the highest order, returning serve as only he could, and offering a total commitment to being ultra-aggressive. He made up his mind that no one was going to beat him, and, even more importantly, he vowed that he was not going to defeat himself.
By 2006, though, his body was severely beaten-up and he never really thought he had a serious chance to be the last man standing. Agassi simply wanted to make his presence known, and to throw his heart and soul into winning a few more matches at the major that meant more than any other in his estimation. He was determined to bow out of the game in style, to give the fans — and himself — one last chance to connect, and then to say goodbye on his own terms. That was what it was all about for Agassi in 2006; he was there to be a central player and to give the audiences in Arthur Ashe Stadium at least a glimpse of what he had once been.
Agassi fended off a stiff challenge from Andrei Pavel in the first round, setting up a second-round appointment against Marcos Baghdatis. Baghdatis had been in the final of the Australian Open at the start of that season, giving Federer a scare before losing in four sets. He was seeded 8th at Flushing Meadows, and the charismatic Cypriot was as comfortable on a large stage as his much more illustrious opponent. He relished playing big matches against renowned adversaries, demonstrating that point in his loss to Federer at the Australian Open and again at Wimbledon, when he was beaten by Rafael Nadal in the semifinals. Even when he was outclassed by these towering competitors, Baghdatis did not shy away from the challenge.
And so it was when he took on Agassi in New York. Both players knew they could push each other to their outer limits, both physically and emotionally, and that is just the way their contest played out. The rallies throughout this riveting five-set skirmish were astonishing, as both players found their range at different times and imaginatively opened up the court, time and again. It was the kind of tennis that left the fans frenzied. Agassi took the first two sets with greater consistency and aggression, but Baghdatis struck back boldly to take the third set.
Nevertheless, Agassi — who was forced to take a cortisone shot before the match to treat his ailing back — built a commanding 4-0 lead in the fourth. The match looked as good as over. The crowd of more than 23,000 in Ashe Stadium sensed he was going to quickly close out the account, since being down two breaks in the fourth put Baghdatis in a considerable bind.
But the depth of the deficit allowed Baghdatis to start hitting freely and enabled him to play an irresistibly fearless brand of tennis. He took six of the next seven games to level the match at two sets all. At 21, the Cypriot was 15 years younger than Agassi. A fifth set seemed almost entirely in his favor.
And yet, Agassi was buoyed tremendously by the fervent support he received from his fans. The final set had it all: Agassi was aching and nearly crippled at times by his burdensome back. Baghdatis was cramping. The crowd was as exhausted as the two combatants. The set was locked at 5-5 when a courageous Agassi somehow fought off four break points with steely resolve. He then broke in the following game to complete a spectacular 6-4, 6-4, 3-6, 5-7, 7-5 triumph.
It was Agassi’s last win ever at the Open, and, of course, the final match victory of his career. It was an achievement that would linger exceedingly long in his mind, a reflection of how much he had evolved over time. So euphoric was Agassi when it was over that he said. “My head was ringing when I came in the tunnel afterwards.”
He knew, however, that he was playing on borrowed time and his body would not put up with much more tennis after this draining skirmish. In the third round, he was beaten in four sets by Benjamin Becker. But that loss would not erase the memory of his mind-boggling victory over Baghdatis.
Agassi’s last hurrah made his farewell in New York all the more remarkable and thoroughly worthwhile. After his loss to Becker, he was showered with appreciation from his fellow players in the locker room. They admired Andre Agassi immensely for the breadth and depth of his career, for his spirit and originality, and for the number of times he reinvented himself from his teens into his thirties. And they fully appreciated how much the US Open and Agassi were made for each other.
As he put it, “The US Open is the place that has given me the most over the years, that has touched me in a way that I haven’t experienced anywhere else. When I walked in the locker room afterwards, they [the players] were all standing and applauding me. I tell you, the greatest applause that any person will ever receive in their life is that which comes from their peers. We’re people that succeed, in some cases, at the demise of the other. To have them applaud you is the ultimate compliment.”
