Love Game - Season 2012

by Gerard, M. B.

  “I hope you make the cut for the Olympics,” she said with a smile. “I think it will be wonderful.”

  Mint nodded and smiled back, relieved that she wasn’t expected to say anything. Polly had grey eyes, she realized. With a little bit of green in them. In pictures they looked blue, but grey was better. Polly was still looking at her. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even blink with her grey eyes. Mint leaned on her knees.

  “My mother died in a hospital,” Mint whispered. Polly’s eyes had the color of the sky. “She had a drug problem. That’s why I don’t like hospitals.”

  ***

  Amanda’s scream was so shrill and full of despair that Elise dropped the bag she was hauling onto the hotel trolley right then and there, and rushed to her girlfriend’s side.

  They had just arrived at the hotel when the first raindrops hit the car, but they were not too unhappy about the weather change as it meant they would spend the evening in their hotel room sorting pictures, winding down and getting cozy. After spending so many hours on the road they were looking forward to a quiet evening together.

  “What’s the matter?” Elise demanded to know. She grabbed Amanda by the shoulders and shook her slightly, but the Australian seemed to be paralyzed with shock. She was staring at a note the embarrassed-looking receptionist had handed her. Amanda opened her mouth but only incomprehensible, broken gibberish came out.

  “Give that to me!” Elise commanded and yanked the paper from Amanda’s hands.

  Had an unfortunate splits accident today. See you at the Olympics, the sheet read. Signed Natsumi.

  “What?” Elise couldn’t believe it. “That’s not possible.”

  “It’s outrageous,” Amanda belted out. She had found her voice again. “It’s bad enough that Natsumi is injured. I feel really bad for her. I really, really do! But what does she mean, ‘see you at the Olympics’? Does that mean she will neither play the French Open nor Wimbledon? Is her unfortunate splits accident really that severe that she is willing to squander many, many ranking points. What is going on?”

  Amanda gasped for air and Elise grasped the moment to rush her agitated girlfriend towards the luggage trolley.

  “You know what this means,” Amanda groaned. Elise nodded. They would have to keep the mara for another two months.

  “Everything will be alright,” she told Amanda and placed a peck on her red hair. “Take this.” Elise handed the Australian a huge suitcase.

  “Now put it on the trolley.” Amanda dutifully did as she was told.

  “Now help me with the trolley.”

  They pushed the over-loaded cart inside the elevator and Elise pressed the button for the fifth floor. When the elevator began to ascend Amanda sighed deeply and Elise was relieved. The Australian seemed to have calmed down. But Elise was wrong.

  “Nothing is alright,” Amanda said slowly. “Something is very, very wrong.”

  “Yes, Natsumi is injured again,” Elise threw in, giving Amanda a disapproving glance. “You could feel a little sorry for her instead of whining about our dildo dilemma. It’s not as horrible as you paint it.”

  But Amanda didn’t seem to be listening. She was brooding.

  “But is she?” Amanda wondered. “Is she injured?”

  “Are you serious?” Elise was beginning to question Amanda’s sanity. “Natsumi is one great competitor. Why would she miss out on two Grand Slams if she wasn’t injured?”

  Amanda nodded. “I was simply asking a question. I’ve also noticed that every time we try to hand back the woodpecker, she’s unavailable. Either she gets an injury that prevents her from playing the same tournament as us, like what happened in Madrid, or she loses early in a tournament, leaving immediately, like in Strasbourg – even though we told her that we planned to visit her there. She could have come with us in the car if she wanted to see us. But no, she heads straight to Paris, goes straight to the practice courts, and gets injured again, checking out on the same day – right before we arrive.”

  “I call that very unlucky,” Elise growled. “And I think you’re crazy. Perhaps all the driving didn’t do you any good. It’s time you relax.” She winked at Amanda. “I do have an idea.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve any woodpeckers, I’m all for it,” Amanda sighed, finally letting go of her conspiracy theory. She leaned over the trolley and Elise kissed her. Too bad Amanda wasn’t a fan of the pecker. Elise had actually begun to like the idea.

  PLAY THE GAME

  Paris, France

  “Tamara and Ivana will be the team to beat,” Bernadette mumbled. “They are solid and both have a great serve. So, for them we need to practice our returns.”

  “But they are already out of the tournament,” Polly remarked. She looked up at Bernadette, who was finishing her meal. They were sitting in the French Open’s player lounge, having had lunch after a light hit. A long day was still ahead of them as their doubles match against Michelle van der Boom and Marieke Bender was scheduled last on Court 3. A look at the TV confirmed that the second match had only started, a Junior match. Hopefully, the boys wouldn’t take too long. There were still two matches to be played after this one.

  The day before, Tamara and Ivana, the top-seeded doubles team from Russia had been upset in a surprise loss to Angela Porovski and Elise Renard from Germany. If Polly and Bernadette won their match today they would play the semifinal against the German team.

  Impatiently Bernadette placed her knife and fork on the plate and pushed it to the side.

  “I’m thinking ahead, Polly,” she replied. “I’m thinking about the Olympics.”

  Of course, Polly thought. The Olympic Games was all Bernadette was thinking about.

  “Well, then we’ll practice returns as soon as we hit the grass,” Polly agreed. “Their serves will be even more effective on a fast surface.”

  “Exactly,” Bernadette nodded, satisfied that her young compatriot was finally beginning to understand the importance of an extensive training regime.

  “It will also be good for my singles game,” Polly contemplated. “I might have a chance now. Eight players in the Top 60 are injured and won’t be able to play the Olympic Games.”

  Polly had reached the fourth round at Roland Garros, which meant that after the tournament her ranking would jump into the Top 70. It wasn’t impossible to slip into the singles draw as an alternate.

  Bernadette pursed her lips. “You want to play singles, too?”

  Polly gulped. Her doubles player eyed her suspiciously. “Well, if I get the chance, of course I want to play.”

  “You stand absolutely no chance of winning a medal in singles.”

  Polly sighed and nodded. That was true. “Of course, I will concentrate on doubles more.”

  Bernadette was still watching her and Polly began shifting in her chair. Why was Bernadette always such a killjoy? Nothing Polly did seemed to find the older player’s approval. To ease the tension, Polly pulled out a flyer she had picked up in the players’ lounge the other day. It showed Pierre de Coubertin, the father of the Olympic Games, with a quote.

  “Do you know what it says? Your French is pretty good.”

  “It used to be a lot better. Age.” Bernadette remarked, tapping her forehead with her finger. “Let me see that.”

  Polly handed her the brochure. Bernadette took a quick look at it and nodded, then put the paper on the table.

  “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle,” Bernadette recited without looking at the leaflet. “The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.”

  Polly smiled. Bernadette knew all these words by heart. She really loved the Olympic Games.

  “Yes,” Polly marveled. “I like that. It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about how you played the game.”

  Bernadette smiled mildly. “That’s bullshit.”

  Polly opened her
mouth at the sudden turnaround, but didn’t object.

  “This sentimental attitude won’t get you anywhere,” Bernadette continued. “Nobody just wants to participate. We all travel to London to win, to leave our teeth marks on a metal plate and feel its heaviness around our necks.”

  She looked Polly in the eye. “You know what winning feels like, Polly. You know now what it feels like to lift a trophy. All the pain, all the practice for simply participating?” She spread her arms. “No. It’s not about fighting well. It’s about winning. It’s always about winning.”

  Polly didn’t answer. Yes, she knew the feeling of triumph now, having won a couple of tournaments together with Bernadette and even a smaller tournament in singles. It was wonderful. She also knew the other feeling of fighting your heart out and still losing. That was the worst.

  “We have a great chance at winning a medal,” Bernadette whispered, leaning forward on the table. “Let’s take it. Let’s focus. Let’s work hard. Let’s not just participate. Let’s triumph.”

  She leaned back and watched Polly. “Do you understand that?”

  Polly nodded.

  “Promise that you will do everything to win.”

  “I promise,” Polly said solemnly.

  ***

  Mint looked through the rows of tables, indecisive about where to sit down.

  There was Gabriella Galloway, with the glamorous and ever-smiling Amanda and Elise. The German gave Amanda a little kiss on the cheek and got up – probably to use the bathroom. A chair was free at their table, but there was no way Mint would sit down next to them. On the other side of the room were Antonia and Martina, in a lively discussion with Chili and Teresa as well as two other Spanish girls. In the corner sat the old gang of Agnes and Candice, Monica and Michelle van der Boom. A couple of other players were scattered all over the place and, as always, the chair umpires had taken a separate table.

  But the two most important people were missing. It was the second time Morgana didn’t attend the Tennis Nurse trading meeting – this time held at lunch hour as there had been complaints about the early schedule during the Australian Open.

  And Polly wasn’t there. Mint scanned the room once more, making sure that she hadn’t really missed the Canadian, but Polly seemed to have skipped the event. Mint let her shoulders hang. She had enjoyed her last conversation with Polly, but again, she had been unable to gain any ground. The times she had wanted to ask Polly out or suggest doing something together, something had held her back. A nagging fear that a date with Polly or anything that looked slightly like a date would arouse wry looks or actual ridicule from Chili and her new friends.

  It made Mint angry. Why did she even care what Chili thought? Watching Chili with her Spanish friends Mint realized that she didn’t belong with them. Or rather Chili didn’t belong with Mint anymore. She had been her sidekick for years, following Mint everywhere and envying her for her financial independence and her abilities as a pick-up artist. But ever since Chili was appointed to play Fed Cup for her country, and with the Olympic Games coming up, she had been spending most of her free time with her Spanish friends. She really shouldn’t care about the Spaniard’s opinion, Mint thought. But she did. Chili had been her best friend, and not even she cared about Mint anymore.

  She approached the table where Agnes and Monica were sitting, and luckily the older players welcomed her and moved so Mint could sit down.

  “Congratulations. Pretty impressive win against Yelena and a well-deserved place in the fourth round,” Candice greeted her, lifting Mint’s mood immediately.

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “I hope I can make the cut for the Olympic Games.”

  The other players nodded. Everyone was thinking about the deadline for the Olympics.

  “Aren’t there four American players ahead of you in the rankings?” Monica wondered.

  Yes, that was true, and the Tennis Federation of each country could only send four singles players to the games. Mint’s heart sank again when she thought about it.

  “Yes, I only qualify for singles if one of them is unable to play,” she admitted.

  “Perhaps you could play doubles,” Agnes suggested. “It’s possible to only play doubles, even if you don’t enter the singles competition.”

  Mint shrugged. “I don’t ever play doubles. I’m not really good at it.”

  She threw a glance at the other table where Chili and Martina were fervidly trading books and giggling. On the one hand she wanted to be part of the group, and on the other hand she felt the need to be on her own.

  “Well, the important thing is taking part,” Monica tried to cheer her up. “Talk to the Olympic Committee. I’m sure you’ll find a spot on the team.”

  Mint nodded. “Yes, I will. Thank you.” She looked at Monica, the great singles player, the loner, the rebel – who had become the great doubles player, the mediator and confidante for so many younger players. Monica, who had never liked Mint. At least that had been Mint’s impression.

  “Forget the Olympics,” Agnes suddenly said. “Let’s talk business, ladies!”

  She unpacked her bag and pulled out a heap of books.

  “I’ve cleared out my attic in Paris,” Agnes said. Mint’s eyes grew wide. Judging from the covers these were really old Tennis Nurse novels.

  ***

  The Eiffel Tower stuck out into the blue sky, poking a few clouds which lazily passed by.

  High above the city, Elise and Polly exchanged a couple of volleys. On the rooftop of the Galeries Lafayette the Supersport team had prepared a mini clay court for shooting another episode of the, by now, very popular series with young and upcoming players. Gemma and Robyn had taken a turn already, playing a couple of points for the camera.

  After twenty minutes they were done.

  “Thank you, girls,” Paola shouted and gave Lars, her cameraman, a pat on the back. She approached Polly and Elise.

  “The van will take you back to the hotel,” she informed them.

  “Oh, we don’t need it,” Elise smiled. “My dad will take us out to lunch. He just arrived.”

  She pointed to the other side of the roof, where Robert Renard was waiting for the two girls.

  When Elise had packed her racquet bag she walked over to her dad who was leaning against the balustrade and enjoying the spectacular view.

  “Do you miss Paris?” Elise asked quietly. Over ten years ago, they had first moved to Germany and then to Florida to pursue Elise’s tennis career.

  “Yes, sometimes,” her dad answered. He kept looking out onto the streets he had once called home.

  “It’s very nice of you to take me out,” Polly said, joining Elise and her dad.

  Robert turned around and smiled. “You’re welcome. Bernie didn’t want to come?”

  Polly and Elise had to giggle while they made their way to the elevator. It was the first time they had heard anybody call Bernadette LeBlanc ‘Bernie’.

  “She said she’s busy,” Polly answered.

  Elise had been glad when Bernadette had declined the invitation. The older Canadian always had such a sour look on her face. It probably would have been very dull to have her around.

  Robert Renard nodded slowly, stepping into the arriving lift. “She’s a great player and a very nice person. I’m sure she can teach you a lot of things.”

  Polly nodded and exchanged a quick look with Elise, who rolled her eyes. Obviously, her dad wasn’t up-to-date. Sure, Bernadette was a good doubles player – one of the best in the world – but a nice person? Elise doubted it. She sometimes saw Polly coming from the gym late at night, knowing that it was Bernadette’s burning ambition which pressured Polly to generate more and more achievements.

  The hall of the Galeries Lafayette looked like the huge nave of a cathedral, and when they stepped out of the elevator Polly and Elise were enchanted by the sparkling and colorful goods on display. They didn’t mind when Robert Renard suggested that he would go outside and get a cab for them.

/>   “Just be in the front in fifteen minutes,” Robert winked. “And don’t buy the whole store!”

  When Elise’s dad was out of sight, they started giggling.

  “Your dad is sweet,” Polly said. “It’s so great that you have a family member traveling with you.”

  Elise nodded. “Yes, it is. How is your mom? When was the last time you saw her?”

  “She’s fine actually,” Polly answered. “But I really miss her. I only visited for two days after Indian Wells. It was way too short.”

  They strolled through the rows of show boxes, checking out the golden watches and jewelry. Elise felt that mentioning Polly’s mother probably had been the wrong move. Polly seemed lost in thought while she leaned over a glass case that showed sparkling diamonds.

  “What do you know about Mint?” the Canadian suddenly asked.

  “Mint?” Elise was surprised. Did Polly hang out with Mint?

  “I don’t know anything about her,” she answered. “I only know that I don’t like her.”

  “Why is that?” Polly inquired.

  “She was mean to me,” Elise said quietly. “I once tried to befriend her and Chili because I knew they were gay and I really needed someone to talk to about it. But they never took me seriously. They mocked me until I eventually stopped trying to hang out with them.”

  “Oh,” Polly uttered, but she didn’t say more.

  Silently they walked outside and Elise wondered why Polly had asked about Mint, but when she saw her dad waiting in front with a cab, she rejoiced. Their last lunch in Paris was waiting and she knew that her dad would treat them well.

  ***

  Two vessels were floating along the Seine almost disappearing altogether under the Pont d’Austerlitz, but just before the stern was about to vanish the ships’ noses slowly snuffled out again.