Filed Under » Andre Agassi

While playing at a charity tennis event in Florida today, Andre Agassi turned some good-natured, back-and-forth ribbing between fellow players awkward and a bit nasty when he informed the crowd that Steffi Graf — his doubles opponent and wife — doesn't do oral nearly as much as she did before they had kids.

Graf, who was mic'd up along with Agassi, Jim Courier and Monica Seles at a tennis event to raise money for Chile, made an innocent joke about Agassi being bald. Her husband met the line with a cold glare and then spit out: "This from a woman who hasn't given head in three years. Maybe if you put out, it would shock my system into growing hair again — ever think about that, bitch?"

As Courier and Seles awkwardly looked at each other, a stunned Graf tried to laugh off her husband's charge by saying: "Wow. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today, huh?"

Shot back Agassi: "Any side of the bed that you're in is the wrong side, because it means I'm not getting any."

A now visibly angry Graf ripped her next serve at Agassi's head, causing him to jump out of the way and then tell the crowd: "In Steffi's defense, it's not like she was ever that good at giving head anyway. Her big nose always got in the way."

It's the second charity event at which Agassi has made a scene in a week, the first coming when he called Pete Sampras a bad tipper at a charity event for Haiti, and he has now issued another apology.

"I was trying to joke around and my joke fell flat," said Agassi. "I apologized to Steffi and I'm sure we could both move past this if she would just go down on me. But as I said before, that's extremely unlikely."

Cut from the final edit of "Open" by Andre Aggasi:

The 1990 French Open final I thought, well — hoped — was the low point. Terrified my hairpiece would fall off — it stuck to my head with nothing more than bobby pins — I had played the final tentative, not wanting to move too much so I wouldn't be embarrassed in front of the world. I lost to Andres Gomez. But it really felt like a win.

My secret had not been exposed. My image was still intact.

And with a new hairpiece on my head, I coasted through the next few years free and easy as Andre Agassi: tennis rebel.

But then came Brooke Shields.

I had met her a few times over the years at charity events. Very nice. Very beautiful, too. And I could tell she thought I was cute. She always made flirty comments about my long hair.

Fast forward to late 1996, set up through mutual acquaintances, we decide to go out on a date. Dinner. A little hole-in-the-wall Thai place on the Upper East Side. I was expecting nothing more than a nice meal and good conversation. But it went well. Very well.

Our entrees hadn't even arrived yet and she tells me she wants me to come back to her hotel room. Now. Umm … check, please! It's Brooke Shields! I'm out of there.

We start going at it in the cab. We are all over each other. This beautiful woman — a supermodel — wants me. And bad. About a block before we pull up to her hotel, Brooke starts rubbing my crotch through my pants.

The cab pulls up to the building. As I get out and start walking inside with her, I realize something's wrong. Down there. Something was loose in my briefs. It felt like a sock. Did it get stuck in there during laundry? Why did I only feel it just now?

Who cares. My mind is only barely working on that … I'm focusing on the fact that I'm about to hook up with Brooke Shields!

We get inside her apartment, inside her bedroom — and she undresses for me. Amazing. Then she sits me on the bed, takes off my shirt … my shoes … my socks … my pants … and kneels down on the floor between my legs. Wow. I see where this is going. And I like it.

As she grabs at my underwear to slip them off, it suddenly dawns on me … OH MY GOD! That's not a sock in my briefs! My merkin came loose!

I PANIC! What would she think? Women always expected my hair to be thick and lustrous EVERYWHERE. Even down there. It was just part of the package of my image, you know? I don't want them to be disappointed. So that's why I always wore a long merkin, some eight inches in length, dyed different colors, often with ribbons tied into it, and spiked just above my penis. I had to. I had to wear that merkin. I naturally had short, tight, black curls. And short pubic hair simply was not the image of '80s and '90s Andre Agassi.

I grab Brooke's hand. "No!" I blurt out. "What? You don't want this?" "No. I do. Believe me I do. It's just … I'm self-conscious." "Oh, Andre. I'm sure you're plenty big. And I don't care about that anyway. Do you want me to turn out the light?"

I nod. Maybe that would save me. Although she may still find something down there, loose, roughly the size of a beaver pelt. A very hairy beaver. Then what? She might be terrified in the dark. But I can't pass this up. It's Brooke Shields.

She begins. And it's amazing. So amazing I completely forget about my loose merkin. She finishes, comes into bed and we have sex. Then we collapse into each other, naked. We are exhausted. We sleep.

I suddenly awake. It's the middle of the night. Oh, no! My merkin! I reach down. It's not there! But … but … where could it be? I have to find it! I can't have Brooke wake up and see me bald down there or a huge merkin somewhere in the covers.

And then I see it. It's pretty hard to miss. Because it's on top of Brooke's head. Like a hat. During her opening act, it must have flown off and landed on her head. That means I then had sex with someone who was wearing my own merkin on her head. And I didn't even know it.

Unbelievable. What a night.

That's when I vow to shave my head. I can't keep living this lie. Too many close calls.

I slowly reach over and lift my merkin off of Brooke's head. Her eyes open. She grabs my hand. "No, baby. Keep it. I like it. It makes me feel close to you."

Whoa. So kinky. So hot. I know then that I'm going to marry this woman.

# # #

Tennis legend Pete Sampras rocked his sport today with reports that he drank a Crystal Pepsi in 1991 just months after bursting onto the scene with a championship in the US Open.

"I am absolutely shocked by this news," said longtime rival Andre Agassi. "He was always such a straight-laced guy. An experimental soda? Consumed by Pete Sampras? That doesn't sound like the Pete I knew."

Jim Courier, also a former Sampras peer, said he knew his rival was going through some tough times back in the early '90s — but had no idea he did something so extreme and out of character.

"He had won a major and was dealing with all that fame for the first time," says Courier. "I remember he changed for a time. He ate at a few ethnic restaurants. Chain ethnic restaurants, like Pizza Hut. But not straight, homestyle American food, at least. Most of all, I recall him saying interesting things once or twice. Which was so strange."

Michael Chang even recalls a conversation with Sampras in 1991 at the French Open in which Sampras asked him if he had ever tried non-traditional colas like Dr. Pepper or Crystal Pepsi.

"I said that I had and that I regretted it because they weren't really that good," says Chang. "Especially Crystal Pepsi. That stuff was crap. But I thought he was just curious. I had no idea Pete Sampras would ever even consider drinking a clear cola."

The Sampras' reports come on the heels of a report that Andre Agassi will reveal in his upcoming book, "Open," that he did crystal meth in 1997. But that story has quickly been pushed aside due to the public's shock about the actions of the ultra-bland tennis icon.

According to book editor Gregory Knipe, Sampras first admitted to drinking Crystal Pepsi in his 2008 book "A Champion's Mind." Only no one noticed until now.

"Yeah, the book didn't sell too well," said Knipe. "That Crystal Pepsi paragraph was actually the juiciest part in the whole 320 pages. People find that interesting? Really? Because I didn't, and I edited the friggin' thing."