But since the umpire seemed genuinely concerned, Steve flexed his knee to prove it was all right. And it was. The bandage restricted his movement a bit, but otherwise he felt normal.
“Definitely ready to play,” Steve announced.
The umpire nodded. “Then let’s go. The score is three games to four in the third set, Zaras to serve.”
There was polite applause from the crowd in the stands.
Steve felt a slight twinge in the leg as he bounced in place, waiting for the serve. It came whizzing to his left. He sidestepped to reach it and felt the twinge again. His return was wide of the sideline.
“Out!” called the line judge. As he moved to the right side of the baseline, Steve blamed the break in play for messing up his concentration, not the scratch on his leg.
Tony missed on his first serve, hitting it into the net, and then hit a cautious second serve. Steve moved in and returned the ball straight down the line to Tony’s backhand. Tony had to lunge for it. He put the ball right where Steve could smash a hard forehand down the line. Tony had to race to get the ball again, but he did manage to reach it.
Tony’s return touched the tape on top of the net but bounced over. Steve had been running to make a backhand return, but the bounce off the tape gave the ball a crazy spin that sent it right to his knees. He put on the brakes and felt a stab of pain in the injured leg. Distracted, he failed to return the ball. Now he trailed, love—thirty.
Tony hit a beautiful topspin serve that Steve couldn’t return. The ace brought the score to forty—love in Tony’s favor. Steve managed to get one point, but Tony won the game, tying the set at four—four.
The crowd was now really into the match, yelling and cheering on every point, shouting encouragement to whichever boy they favored.
Steve found that his leg made a difference in his serve; he couldn’t extend himself upward the way he usually did. On the first serve in the new game, he hit one into the net. On second service, he got it over but without much power, and Tony hit a slicing backhand return for a winner. Steve could imagine concern on his father’s face in the stands.
He raised himself up on his toes a couple of times before the next serve. This time he hit it better — a hard shot to Tony’s backhand. He was able to take control again. He moved Tony around, preventing the other player from setting himself and hitting his favorite shots. He won the next two points to lead, thirty—fifteen. Two more points and the game would be his.
With Tony edging over toward his backhand side, Steve crossed him up by hitting it to his forehand. While Tony returned the ball, the shot didn’t have much steam on it. Steve charged the net, hitting a volley past the diving Tony for a winner. Tony didn’t get up for a moment. He was winded.
Steve wanted to end this game quickly and tried to freeze Tony by hitting the serve straight at him. But this time, Tony slid to his left and hit a hot cross-court forehand return. Steve went for it and hit it down the line. Tony got set for his two-handed backhand and sent it back to Steve’s backhand side, running toward the net as he did.
Steve tried to pass Tony on Tony’s left, but the other boy’s reflexes were still sharp. He blocked the ball, sending it almost straight down on Steve’s side of the net. Luckily, the ball took a high enough bounce for Steve to get to it. He tried once again to pass Tony. For a moment the boys faced each other from only a few yards away, both taking advantage of their quickness to make returns.
Then Steve hit a lob over Tony’s head that Tony couldn’t reach. Steve had won the game and led, five games to four. If Steve could break Tony’s serve now, the match was his.
Tony was as much aware of this fact as Steve. He found some reserve energy somewhere, enough for him to take the game with the help of a couple of nice topspins.
That was probably Tony’s best weapon, thought Steve, trying to loosen his leg a little. The scrape was becoming more and more of a problem to deal with.
The two players split the next two games, making the score six games apiece and setting up a tiebreaker to determine who would win the final match. Steve would serve the first point.
There was a brief break and the boys went to the side of the court. Steve decided to stay standing and flex his leg to make sure it didn’t tighten up on him. Tony sat, breathing deeply and looking straight ahead. Then they took their places, to enthusiastic applause.
Steve served, down the middle, and stayed at the baseline. He didn’t want to risk putting too much pressure on his leg. Tony hit a slicing return that forced Steve to lunge hard to his left to make a backhand return. It was out of reach. His leg was stiffening and sore enough to keep him from moving quickly from side to side. Could it cost him the match?
They switched sides for Tony’s first tiebreaker serve. Steve continued to flex the leg, knowing that if it got any worse, he’d lose the match for sure.
Tony’s serve came straight at him and he quickly sidestepped, slashing a forehand return to Tony’s backhand side. Tony got to it and hit a return that ticked the net, forcing Steve to charge forward to make his shot. He gritted his teeth, resolving not to let the pain in his leg slow him down. He hit a passing shot down the right sideline. Tony started to dive for it but then let it go, undoubtedly hoping it would be wide. It wasn’t, and the point was Steve’s.
Tony’s next serve was a perfect ace into the far corner of the service box, and he led, two—one.
Steve served to Tony’s backhand and hit Tony’s return to the opposite corner. Tony dashed to get it but mis-hit his shot. The ball dribbled off the edge of his racket. Two points each.
Steve took a deep breath and hit his best serve of the day, a rocket with plenty of spin that skidded away from Tony after just hitting the edge of the service box. He led, three—two.
Tony’s next serve forced Steve to run to his left. Although he made the return, Steve felt pain in his leg as he reversed direction and headed back toward the middle of the baseline.
Tony clearly knew that Steve’s leg was bothering him. He hit a drop shot that Steve had to charge to reach. He got there and stayed at the net. But Tony ripped a shot past him to tie the tiebreaker at three—three.
On the next point, the players got into a long baseline exchange. Neither wanted to come to the net: Tony looked to take advantage of Steve’s leg problem, and Steve hoped to wear Tony down more by making him run. Finally, Tony came in and put away the point with a wicked, sliced volley that Steve couldn’t reach. It was now four—three, with Tony in the lead.
Steve served next. He put some slice on the ball, which bounced away from Tony’s racket. Tony stumbled a little and hit the ball into the net, and they were tied once again, at four—four.
On Steve’s next serve he aimed straight at Tony. Once again, Tony froze for a fraction of a second and his return was soft and uncertain. Steve was able to take control and move Tony back and forth on the baseline again. Tony managed to get to the ball, but he was moving as if his feet were made of lead. Finally, Steve moved toward the net and volleyed the ball at such a sharp angle that Tony just stared at it. Steve led, five to four.
Tony now had two serves. Steve went in to meet the first one, only to see the ball squirt under his racket. Tony had put some slice on it and had come back to tie at five—five.
Steve’s leg was throbbing and his mouth felt dry. He tried to ignore his body’s distress signals and made a strong return of service down the center of the court, to Tony’s backhand. Tony slammed a hard shot that was meant to pass Steve on his forehand side, but Steve’s lunge was good enough for him to get the ball and send it steaming cross-court. Tony’s return tipped the net. Steve had to throw himself forward to get his racket under the ball before its second bounce. The ball went softly over the net and Tony was unable to get there. Steve led, six—five. It was Steve’s serve — and game, set, and match point.
As he walked back to serve, Steve was limping. He couldn’t try to hide the fact that his leg was aching, and he wanted this match to
be over. If he didn’t put Tony away right now, he would have a very rough time moving around with any speed.
He prepared to serve, barely aware of the cheering of the crowd in the stands. The umpire, however, called time.
“Quiet, please,” he called out. “Please let the players concentrate.” Once the crowd had settled down, the umpire signaled for Steve to serve.
Steve tossed the ball high, arched his back, and whipped his right arm around.
“Out!” called a line judge.
“Fault,” said the umpire. “Second service.”
Steve hesitated, bouncing the ball. Should he play it safe? Or should he go for broke and risk a double fault? He decided that he would have to take that risk, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to play on that leg. He figured he must have either a bad bruise or a slight strain. Either way, he wouldn’t be able to keep running for long. He had to try to win the match on this serve.
He glanced at Tony. Tony had crept in a few feet, expecting Steve to play it safe. That decided it for Steve. He hit a hard topspin serve into the outside corner of the service box. For a terrible second he thought it was long.
But it wasn’t. The ball took a low bounce, just under Tony’s racket. Ace!
“Game, set, and match to Greeley,” called the umpire, but his voice was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd. Steve stood still for a moment and then limped to the net to shake hands with Tony.
15
Tony smiled as he shook hands. “Congratulations. You earned it today.”
Steve smiled back. “You made me fight for every point. You’re a tough man to beat.”
As Steve came to the sideline, his father rushed up and threw his arms around him. “What a match!” he yelled. “You were amazing! Unbelievable! Wait’ll you hear Vince! He wants you for his camp! He’s totally sold on you!”
When his father mentioned Vince, Steve winced and bit his lip. Mr. Greeley noticed but didn’t understand.
“That leg must really be hurting,” he said. “But you played right through the pain! Talk about guts — you’re a real competitor!”
Ginny rushed forward and hugged her brother. “You did great! How’s your leg?” She handed him a cold drink.
Steve took a deep swallow. “It’s not too bad. I think I must’ve bruised it when I dove. It’ll be real sore tomorrow, but … who cares?”
Brother and sister grinned at each other and laughed.
Ten minutes later, the umpire called out for quiet over the PA system. He then introduced Billy Gardiner, who presented the trophy for the State Junior Tennis Championship in the Boys’ Twelve-and-Under Class to Steve. As Steve took the cup, Billy shook his hand and said, “I’m going to have to watch out for you in a few years, dude. You have what it takes.”
Steve tried not to flinch when Billy shook his hand. All that exercise had given Billy a grip of steel. Billy grinned. “See you on the tour, kid.”
Steve carried his trophy toward the locker room, accompanied by the rest of his family. Vince stood by the locker room door, smiling, his hand outstretched. “You really showed me something out there, Steve. How’s the leg?”
Steve shrugged. “I don’t think it’s too bad. Maybe it’s just a bruise.”
“Be sure to ice it right away,” Vince advised. “By the way, you and I have to talk this evening.”
“This evening?” Steve echoed, suddenly feeling nervous.
Mr. Greeley said, “I guess I didn’t mention it, but we’re having a victory dinner tonight for you and Ginny, and Vince is the guest of honor. He has something to tell you both, something that’ll make your day.”
Steve hoped his feelings didn’t show on his face. “Okay,” he said. “Sure.”
He ducked quickly into the locker room, not wanting to face his dad just yet. He put some ice in a towel and wrapped it around his sore leg. While he was letting the ice do its job, his buddy Pat came up and lightly punched his shoulder.
“You were awesome out there,” he said. He noticed the wrapped leg. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”
Steve shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just a bruise, I think.”
Pat sat next to him. “You break the news to your dad yet? About your future?”
Steve didn’t say anything. Pat looked concerned. “No, huh? When are you going to?”
Steve massaged the leg gently. “It has to be tonight, because I think Vince Marino is going to invite me officially to his camp. And I don’t want to go. I’ll have to tell dad before dinner, because I don’t think he should hear the bad news for the first time when Vince invites me.”
“Know what you’re going to say?” asked Pat.
“I don’t have a clue.”
Pat stood up. “Oh, boy. Well, good luck. I wish I had some advice for you, but I don’t have a clue either. Call me later and tell me how it went.”
“Okay,” Steve said. As Pat left, Steve shut his eyes and tried to relax. Suddenly he was aware that someone had sat down next to him. He was startled to see that it was Vince. He had taken off his mirrored sunglasses and was looking at Steve with a steady gaze.
“I thought you and I might have a little talk in private,” Vince said. “I mean, without your dad around.”
“Sure,” said Steve, wondering what this was all about.
Vince sat back on the bench. “I already told you, Steve, you showed me something today. I don’t just mean that you have good technique, either. You have that winning instinct, too.
“It would have been easy for you to just take it easy when that leg began to hurt. No one would have blamed you even if you’d said that you couldn’t play anymore. After all, you’re the only one who knew how bad you hurt. But you gutted it out. That meant more to me than your serve or your footwork.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, still not sure why Vince was telling him this without his father around to hear.
“But there’s one thing I’m not sure about,” Vince went on. “And I thought I’d bring it up just between you and me.
“See, I’ve worked with hundreds of tennis players. All of ’em were very good and a few were great, and while I’ve been teaching them, they’ve taught me a few things, too.
“The most important thing they taught me is that unless someone really wants to become a professional tennis player, it doesn’t matter how much talent he or she has. All the teaching in the world isn’t going to be enough. Are you following me?”
Steve shrugged. “Uh, sure. I follow you completely.”
Vince nodded. “Good. Now, I get a feeling — I may be wrong, and correct me if I am — but I think you may not be wild about going to my camp. Am I right about that?”
Steve didn’t know what to say. “Well, I mean, I know your camp is great and all, but …”
Vince smiled. “Don’t worry about my feelings, just say what’s on your mind. This is just between us. I won’t tell your dad.”
Steve was puzzled. “How could you tell?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve learned to recognize the signs.”
“But —” Steve stopped, trying to think things through. “If you can see, how come my dad can’t?”
Vince sighed. “Don’t be too hard on your dad, Steve. When he got hurt, back in college, it was almost like his life was over. Tennis had been the center of his life, and he probably would have had a good pro career. Then, boom, it was gone. Just like that.” Vince shook his head sadly.
“Now here you are, his son, with the same kind of talent, and he naturally assumes you’re going to want what he wanted back then. Can you understand why he would think that, and why it might not be easy for him to accept the fact that you don’t feel the same way?”
“I guess,” Steve answered. “Hey, maybe I will want to get serious about tennis someday. Maybe it’ll happen next year, or the year after. I don’t know. But —”
“But not just yet,” Vince finished for him. “I get what you’re saying. The thing is, yo
u need to tell him.”
Steve slumped, and then sat up hopefully. “Maybe you could tell him for me.”
Vince shook his head again. “It should come from you. I know you don’t want to do it, but you should tell him what’s on your mind. It won’t be so bad. Matter of fact, Ted may surprise you. In any case, you’ll feel a lot better once you do.”
Steve thought for a moment. “I guess you’re right. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
Vince got up and patted Steve on the shoulder. “I’m glad we had our talk. See you tonight.”
Steve sat there, wishing it were the next day and that the talk with his dad was history.
16
The victory dinner at the Greeleys that evening was not a huge success. Both Steve and Ginny were unusually quiet, which was surprising since both had won state championships that day. The Greeley parents and Vince kept the conversation flowing, but both Mr. and Mrs. Greeley kept giving their children looks of concern.
“Honey, are you feeling all right?” Mrs. Greeley finally asked Ginny.
“Sure, Mom, I’m fine,” Ginny said, but not very convincingly.
“Leg bothering you, Champ?” Mr. Greeley asked Steve at another point.
“It’s all right, Dad,” replied Steve. “I iced it like Vince said and it’s okay.”
Finally, the dishes from the main course were cleared away and Mr. and Mrs. Greeley came out of the kitchen carrying a big layer cake with two candles on top. In the vanilla icing, big chocolate letters spelled out OUR TWO CHAMPIONS.
While the cake was being cut, Vince cleared his throat. “I guess this is a good time to tell you all my news. I’m happy to say that we have room for both of you at camp this summer, and from what I saw today, I’d like the chance to work with you, Ginny, and you, Steve.”
Their father beamed in delight, though their mother looked less than happy.
“I thought that we —,” she began, but Ginny interrupted her.
“Mom, it’s okay. Mr. Marino —”
Tennis Ace Page 6