Love Game - Season 2012

by Gerard, M. B.

  Mint was observing the other players on the courts but didn’t move.

  “Shall we go down and try to get another half an hour done?” Chili asked.

  Without turning around Mint shook her head.

  “Let’s wait for later. I’m not up to cleaning for twenty minutes if it’s just going to start raining again.”

  Chili parked her chin on Mint’s shoulder and looked outside. The rain had stopped but there was no sunny, blue sky to be seen yet.

  “Yes, let’s wait and see what happens,” she sighed. Then she followed Mint’s gaze. On the court nearest to the building, two players had begun hitting balls.

  “Oh, your favorite opponent,” Chili teased. “Little Elise.”

  The Spaniard grinned while she watched the blonde German down on the court. Elise Renard exchanged forehands with Natsumi Takashima. Mint clenched her teeth until she felt her jaw beginning to cramp. The Japanese player and Mint had spent some time together off-court in the past season, and during the Tokyo tournament Natsumi had taken Mint under her wing, saving the American from her obnoxious stepmother. However, since Mint had arrived two days ago, Natsumi hadn’t called her up.

  “I couldn’t care less about Elise,” Mint threw in.

  “She spent the off-season with Amanda,” Chili reported. “They won the Couple of the Year Award,” Chili continued.

  Mint threw her friend a quick glance from the corner of her eye then looked down on the court again. The German girl was laughing with Natsumi about something the Japanese player had said.

  “Well, we already knew in Cincinnati that they were a couple.”

  “I knew that,” Chili corrected her. “You wouldn’t believe that Elise was into girls.”

  Mint didn’t reply to that. What a smartass Chili could be! There was nothing Mint wanted to say. Instead she shrugged and turned away without a word.

  “What’s wrong now?” Chili was yelling after her. Mint stopped.

  “I just think you could have told me earlier that you didn’t plan to play doubles with me for a whole year,” Mint hissed.

  “But it’s only half a year,” Chili said, shaking her head. “You better find someone for yourself, so you get a chance at the Olympics.”

  “I plan to play singles at the Olympics,” Mint replied.

  “Of course, Miss Superstar. Good luck with that.”

  Mint looked at Chili. It was ironic that she called Mint ‘Miss Superstar’. The Spaniard had been raving about becoming famous the other night after telling Mint that she had been chosen as one of the young players to be showcased in the new Supersport Channel series. Mint should have been in the show instead of Chili. Not only was she the better player, she was also prettier. But Mint knew the reason she had been left out. The show already featured two Americans – Luella and Gabriella Galloway, one of them being in the Top 10. At least for the moment. Lulu was doing fine, but was by no means able to live up to the expectations of a Grand Slam champion and Top 10 player. Mint snorted thinking about the hype Luella’s Wimbledon win had caused.

  No, it wouldn’t be easy to get a spot on the Olympic team with her singles ranking, but now she was even more motivated to try to get a spot on the team.

  “There’s nobody I could play doubles with anyway,” she grumbled, throwing herself on a lounge chair.

  Chili sat down next to her.

  “The Olympics pretty much mess up all the good doubles teams,” Chili said understandingly. Then she had an idea. “Why don’t you ask Monica? She can’t play with Agnes, so she might be up for playing with you.”

  “I don’t know,” Mint answered pensively. “I never really had a close relationship with Monica. I don’t think she likes me.” She paused for a moment. “But I will ask her. I also thought Gabriella might be up for some doubles action.”

  “Gabriella?” Chili was baffled. “Gabriella will play with Lulu, of course.”

  “Yes, probably,” Mint said carefully. “But they stopped playing doubles together quite a while ago. And how do you explain Gabriella playing Auckland, while Lulu is in Brisbane?”

  Chili shrugged. “Ranking? Luella is a Top 10 player. Of course, she will play Brisbane. It’s the bigger tournament.” Then she paused. “But you are right. It’s very unusual for them. They never play different tournaments. It’s not possible as they share the same team and coach.”

  “Not anymore,” Mint said. “Gabriella has her own team now.”

  ***

  The sky still looked gloomy, but it didn’t start raining again and Elise and Natsumi managed to have a good hit on one of the practice courts. When the next players due on the court arrived Elise walked over to the bench and began packing her racquet bag.

  “I see you worked on your slice serve,” Natsumi said appearing next to Elise.

  “Amanda practiced with me,” Elise smiled at the Japanese player.

  “I thought so.” Natsumi winked. Elise shouldered her bag and they walked together towards the players’ entrance. From the main court she could hear the comforting sound of the chair umpire announcing the score. Play had started.

  “Do you miss her already?” Natsumi asked holding the door for Elise. Elise chuckled at Natsumi’s nosiness.

  “It’s just for a week, Natsumi. We can survive without each other for a week,” Elise said. She knew that Natsumi would love to hear stories about the off-season she had spent with Amanda in Florida.

  “We went to a gay bar before Christmas,” she revealed with her voice lowered, so the people who passed them in the hallway couldn’t hear.

  “Are you kidding me?” Natsumi said laconically. “Amanda in a gay bar? Did you drag her there?”

  “No, it was Monica’s idea,” Elise laughed, thinking about her girlfriend. Amanda wasn’t known for being a party animal. She usually liked a nice evening in, cooking dinner and watching movies. Elise opened the door to the locker rooms.

  “We all went there together. Monica, Agnes and Gabriella, too.”

  As soon as she had said it and seen Natsumi’s raised eyebrows, Elise wanted to bite her lip.

  “Gabriella?” Natsumi had stopped dead in her tracks and let her racquet bag fall on the floor. “Gabriella Galloway?”

  Elise sighed. “Please, don’t tell anybody! She’s not out to a lot of people and I’m not supposed to say anything.”

  As Natsumi opened her mouth, Elise got ready for an onslaught of questions by the Japanese. She held up her hands, hoping to slow down the impending quick-fire interrogation when Natsumi’s phone rang. The ring tone sounded as if someone had scored in a computer game or pinball. The Japanese player raised a finger, gesturing to Elise that she wasn’t dismissed yet, while searching for her phone in her racquet bag.

  Elise opened her locker and grabbed her toilet bag. She needed to escape to the showers before Natsumi finished her phone call. Perhaps the Japanese player would forget to ask about Gabriella after Elise came out of the shower. She peered around the locker door and saw to her relief that Natsumi had found her phone and answered it.

  “Moshi moshi,” the Japanese girl said with a smile, then listened, then she grew stiff. Her smile had vanished.

  “Why haven’t you called?” she whispered into the phone. “Why have you never ever called?” She sank onto the bench and buried her head in her free hand.

  Elise held her breath. She had never seen Natsumi cry before. But then the Japanese straightened her back, listening carefully.

  “Yes,” she eventually answered the caller with a clear voice. “Yes. I can do that.”

  Intrigued Elise watched her friend from the other end of the room. Natsumi was still listening, then she seemed to pause and contemplate.

  “Ich dich auch,” she finally said before hanging up. Elise couldn’t believe her ears. Natsumi spoke German? How did Elise not know that? She opened her mouth to ask the Japanese but stopped herself. Natsumi was still sitting on the bench, staring at the wall in front of her. She seemed to have become unaw
are of Elise’s presence. Suddenly embarrassed by listening in on the conversation Elise silently closed the locker door and tip-toed to the shower. From under the water, she heard Natsumi finally rummage through her bag and step into the shower booth next to Elise.

  Ich dich auch. That was a German expression used as an affirmative answer to ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’. Who had Natsumi talked to? Who did she love back or miss? And why was she so upset? Was the caller a new lover? Elise had to grin in relief. At least Natsumi wouldn’t pester her with questions about Gabriella. In fact, Natsumi seemed to have completely forgotten about everything else.

  ***

  “This is my last chance.”

  Polly Duke looked up and studied the face of the woman sitting opposite her. Bernadette LeBlanc hadn’t touched her salad yet. She hadn’t even picked up her fork. Sitting on the edge of her seat the dark-haired Canadian player was looking outside the restaurant window into the night.

  “You’re my last chance,” Bernadette said slowly turning her head to Polly.

  Polly smiled quickly, but then looked away. Bernadette’s dramatic approach to playing doubles seemed a bit disproportionate and Polly wasn’t sure if it had been the right move to agree on playing with Bernadette in the first place, even though from a professional point of view it had been a great decision. When they had played together for the first time in Luxembourg in October, they had worked well as a team with Polly’s punchy serve backing up Bernadette’s skills at the net. They hadn’t won the title, but went all the way to the final, only being beaten by the top seeds. Bernadette had been content with the result and she had invited Polly to train with her at her base in Florida before Christmas. For two weeks she had avoided the harsh Canadian winter, but this also meant she couldn’t see her family and Polly was happy to at least spend the holidays with them before leaving for New Zealand after Christmas. Fit and ready for the new season she had arrived in Auckland, the tournament her ranking allowed her to play without going through the qualifying process.

  They had decided to play together as the Canadian team in this year’s Olympics and the prospect of competing thrilled Polly. But Bernadette seemed almost grim about the challenge that lay ahead of them.

  “We need to figure out a good practice schedule,” the older player said resolutely. “Let’s see into which tournaments your ranking will get you, and with your team I’ll figure out a plan for us.”

  Polly swallowed hard on her lamb rib.

  “Of course, we need to play as many grass tournaments as possible to be best prepared for London,” Bernadette continued. Many? Plural? Polly looked up. The tennis competition of the Olympic Games in London was also to be held also at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club of Wimbledon – on grass and only a couple of weeks after the third Grand Slam. Were two weeks on the same courts not enough as a solid preparation for the Olympics?

  “We considered playing Birmingham,” she said hesitantly.

  “Yes, Birmingham.” Bernadette raised her index finger. “But we should definitely play one more before Wimbledon,” Bernadette pointed out, lifting a second finger. “Then we have Wimbledon,” she continued her list, raising a third finger.” And after Wimbledon I suggest staying in England so we have another good three weeks of practice.” Bernadette wagged her four lifted fingers in front of Polly’s nose and gave the young player a broad smile. For a short moment Polly thought if it wasn’t for the many fingers, Bernadette looked like a witch luring her into her gingerbread house. Polly nodded, thinking about the tight grass court schedule.

  “I can talk about this with my team. There is still enough time,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll talk to them,” Bernadette interrupted her. With a swift movement she pulled back her hand that had been lingering in front of Polly’s nose and clenched a fist.

  “I want a medal,” she said vehemently. She almost hissed the words. “I deserve a medal. This is my last chance and I am going to take it.”

  She let her fist sink onto the table, suddenly looking exhausted. Then she finally picked up her fork and pierced it into a cherry tomato.

  Obviously, participating in the Olympic Games meant a lot to Bernadette. It would be her fourth attendance and also her last. She was already thirty-six. Polly was nevertheless surprised to see the ambition in the older player’s eyes. Bernadette was a journeywoman on the tour, who had had her peak in the singles competition in her early twenties when she had reached a couple of fourth rounds at Grand Slams and when she had had a career high singles ranking in the Top 20. Polly couldn’t remember any of Bernadette’s big matches. They had happened long before she had started following the game. For the last ten years she had specialized in doubles, which was a good way of making a living but wasn’t prestigious at all. Most Canadians wouldn’t be able to recognize her. Perhaps that was the reason Bernadette liked the Olympics so much, Polly thought. Because it emphasized the attention drawn to fellow countrymen and women.

  Polly took another look at Bernadette. All of a sudden, nothing in the woman’s demeanor gave a hint at her burning ambition. Pensively, the Canadian was shoveling salad into her mouth while her long, dark hair fell into her face.

  ***

  Just as Monica Jordan and Agnes Lion entered the stand reserved for players and officials the scoreboard switched to the names of the players due on court next. Natsumi Takashima’s name, along with the embarrassing scoreline next to it was replaced with the names of Gabriella Galloway and Sophia Thrassa.

  “What on earth was wrong with Nats?” Agnes wondered, still looking at the scoreboard.

  Monica shrugged. “Haven’t heard that much from her during the off-season. Maybe she has a new love interest and is missing her?”

  “She would have told us about that,” Agnes grinned while making her way down the stairs.

  “She can’t keep things like that a secret, can she?” Monica laughed. “Probably it was just the pressure of being the top seed.” Then she pointed to a row of free seats a little further away. “Let’s sit down over there.”

  The seats were at the far edge of the reserved area and opposite the player’s box where coaches and family sat during play.

  “You don’t want her to see us?” Agnes wondered, following Monica through the rows and apologizing to the spectators who had to get up to let them through.

  “I never liked it when friends were watching,” Monica mumbled.

  “You’ve forgotten that you were weird when you were young,” Agnes teased her.

  “I was?” Monica shot back, but not without winking at her old friend. She turned her attention back to the court. The stadium was filling quickly with spectators, who had taken a break after the previous match.

  “I only want to see how this new prospect unfolds,” Monica said, pointing to the player’s box where Gabriella Galloway’s new coach, Fredrik Nordström, had taken a seat. “They worked pretty hard in the off-season and he told me he had a good feeling about Gabriella.”

  Under polite applause the players entered the court and started their warm-up. Agnes leaned over to Monica.

  “It’s strange not to see her twin in the box,” she whispered as the chair umpire announced that play would start. “Did Gabriella say what exactly happened?”

  Monica shook her head. “She just said she needed a change. But I assume the reason behind it is that she couldn’t bring herself to tell Luella that she likes girls. Gabriella knows for ages, but you know Luella. Always the one who gets her way.”

  “Oh dear,” Agnes sighed. “That’s pretty tough considering that they are twins. Only a year ago they used to be inseparable.”

  “Tough for whom?”

  “Gabriella, of course.”

  Monica nodded, but didn’t say anything. Twenty minutes later Monica and Agnes were both sitting on the edge of their seats. Gabriella Galloway had easily taken the lead with a combination of powerful groundstrokes and clever shotmaking.

  “She is mixing it u
p beautifully,” Monica whispered. “I must congratulate Freddie on his work.”

  It was 5-2 for the curly-haired American and she was serving for the first set. But after ten minutes Monica and Agnes began scratching their heads. The American player had had several set points, but couldn’t make the deciding point in her favor. Once again Gabriella was one point away of wrapping up the set– and squandered it with an easy forehand into the net.

  “Deuce,” chair umpire, Camilla Sanchez, said into the microphone.

  “Oh, dear,” Monica moaned quietly. “She’s choking.”

  “Yes,” Agnes said more to herself than to her friend. “That was the third set point. I always lose concentration after the third, because it makes me angry I missed my chance again and again. And then my serve gets broken.”

  In fact, down on the court Gabriella looked visibly frustrated. She grabbed new balls, stepped up to the baseline and nervously served the ball over the net. It went wide. The second serve was hit so timidly that Sofia had no problem smacking the ball so hard to Gabriella’s backhand side that there was no way for the young American to reach it.

  After three good opportunities to decide the game, Gabriella had suddenly given Sofia a break point. Turning to the back of the court the young player closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Yes, so much for the game,” Monica nodded knowingly.

  With an easy error Gabriella’s serve was broken.

  ***

  “What do you do with all the plants?”

  Lynn Welch looked up from her dinner plate in surprise. Alice Chevallier, a rookie on the PR and service team, sat down opposite her and stared into the clear evening sky. Her question had come out of nowhere.

  “What plants?” Lynn asked.

  “I heard you always win potted plants at the end of the year,” Alice explained to the chair umpire.