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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."

Yes, Serena Williams just signed an endorsement contract with Tampax Tampons.

Here's the first ad of the campaign. Well, it's a draft. But I think it's effective.

Because I am terrified.

In fact, I am going to buy some Tampax tampons right now and I don't even have a vagina.

Serena Williams has released an official apology through her blog. You can read it here.

SportsPickle obtained a copy of the original draft of the apology, penned by Serena herself. The final statement is in bold.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Press Statement Amendment

Hey guys!!!

I want to amend my press statement of yesterdayin which I told you all to kiss my generous hindquarters, and want to make it clear as possible – I want to sincerely apologize FIRST to the lines woman because it's not cool to threaten violence against a blind, mentally disabled person;, Kim Clijsters,whose title obviously has an asterisk because she didn't really beat me, the USTA, and tennis fans everywhere for my inappropriate outburst. I'm a woman of great pride, strength,faith and integrity, and I admit when I'm wrong and if you don't accept this apology I will shove this note down your f—king throat!

I need to make it clear to all young people that I handled myself inappropriately and it's not the way to act — win or lose, good call or bad call (in this case, bad call; very, very bad call)in any sport, in any manner.

I like to lead by example. We all learn from experiences both good and bad. I will learn and grow from this, and be a better person as a result. I just hope that piece of crap line judge would improve, as well, or I will one day finish the job and kill her. Mark my words.

Xxxx punch punch punch,

S

PS – Down your throat until my fist comes out of your ass! Believe it!

The story of the US Open has been 17-year-old sensation Melanie Oudin, who has shocked the field by making it to the quarterfinals.

Who is this girl? Here are some facts about Melanie Oudin.

The young phenom advanced to the quarterfinals by defeating Elena Dementieva, Maria Sharapova and Nadia Petrova.Russian prime minister Vladimir Putin has reportedly mailed her radioactive poison.

Melanie Oudin was born September 23, 1991 in Marietta, Georgia. She is 5-foot-6 and weights 130 pounds. I just included that last bit there because 17 year-old girls love it when their weight is published for the whole world to see.

Oudin says her hero is Justine Henin because "she proved you don't have to be tall to win things." Poor Melanie. She is completely unaware that all of the good trophies are kept high up on shelves where she can't see them. Sad.

Oudin has a twin sister, Katherine, who attends public school, while Melanie is home schooled so she can focus on her tennis. Friends of the family know Katherine as the sister with lighter hair and braces, while Melanie is known as the one without a childhood who will have a lifetime of regrets.

Oudin's father, John, is of French descent. This is probably why Oudin often plays back at the baseline and doesn't advance to the net. Get it?! Because she is scared. IT'S A JOKE ABOUT FRENCH PEOPLE BEING PUSSIES! Man, good stuff there. Enjoy.

Oudin plays right-handed. And she has a two-handed backhand.

Oudin's favorite singer is Chris Brown. Really. So she must be a huge fan of two-handed backhands.

Her nickname is "The Oudini." She is so-dubbed because she is often able to escape tight situations in her matches. However, so far she has been unable to escape being given horrible pun nicknames.