Jimmy Connors Saved My Life: Part 1

Jimmy Connors saved my life: how could that be? Jimmy Connors saved my life. With a snarl and a grunt and a backhand and a squeaky pair of shoes, he saved me--from, what? Predictability. Mediocrity. Irony. Unhappiness. Connors saved me by legitimizing a sissy sport and making me a part of it. He saved me because he showed me how to turn thought into action. He saved me because he simultaneously let me lose my head and keep it when those around me were losing theirs. He saved me because he was, as the saintly Arthur Ashe put it, "my favorite asshole." He saved me because he inspired me to play better tennis and apply that intensity to love and work. He saved me because he didn't care about anyone but himself, because at heart he's a greedy, narcissistic, paranoid, tenacious, predatory, sensate creature--qualities that triggered my own visceral desires and lofty ambitions. Why did I need Connors to succeed? After all, long before Connors entered my life, I was raised with specifically American and Jewish notions of exceptionalism. From birth, my older brother Ken and I were photographed and celebrated as extensively as the Kennedys. We were the stars...