by Jim Plautz
Petie finished his first year ranked #55 in the Florida 14-and-under USTA age bracket, despite never having won a tournament. It didn’t sound like much, but his ranking usually got him seeded, which meant he avoided playing the top players until the second or third round. Nobody wants to drive a 100 miles to a tournament and be beaten in the first round. Unfortunately, half the players will lose their first round match; it’s a statistic that holds pretty steady in tennis tournaments.
Another statistic is that there is only one winner, meaning that everyone else loses their last match. It’s like the NCAA Basketball Tournament or the World Series, there is only one winner, but in this case you are talking about young kids. Winning a consolation championship is only fun the first time. After that it’s like kissing your sister.
He opened his second year by entering a small tournament in Fort Meyers, about a 190 miles South of Tampa. Seeded #4, he reached the semifinals where he lost to a boy that he should have beaten. The boy played well, but Petie clearly did not play his best tennis, losing 5-7, 4-6 and double faulting on match point. To his credit, he congratulated his opponent graciously and wished him luck, before slamming his racquet into his bag and heading for the car.
“Petie, there is a consolation bracket in this tournament for first round losers. The tournament officials won’t be happy if you withdraw and might report you to the USTA. Don’t you want to stick around?” I had mixed emotions after I checked the schedule and saw that Petie wouldn’t play his consolation match until 2:30 PM. Four hours was a long time to hang around after a tough loss.
“Let’s go, Dad. I don’t want to play again today. Tell them I’m injured.”
It was a long ride home, particularly since Petie and I had driven to Ft. Myers alone. Gregg had a living to make and only went to the tournaments in the Tampa area. Mary was playing in her own 35-and-over singles tournament in Orlando and had reached the semifinals. The 35s were a tough bracket.
“Pete, you played well, reaching the semis is pretty good,” I offered, trying to break the awkward silence. “You can’t win every match.”
“Dad, I sucked, and you know it,” Pete answered. “I choked. I should have beaten that kid easy and be playing my second match by now. I’ll never win a tournament.”
“Pete, don’t be too hard on yourself. You have only been playing tennis eight months; some of these other kids have been playing for years. Keep practicing, your time will come.”
Pete wasn’t hearing me and the rest of the trip was made in silence. Not even a stop at McDonalds’ could shake Pete’s depression. Petie headed for his room as soon as we got home, ignoring Lisa’s question about how he did.
“Sorry for asking,” Lisa yelled after him.
It was after 7 P.M. and I was beginning to worry when I heard Mary’s car pull into the garage. Lisa had already eaten and was holed up in her room studying for a test. “Anyone home?” she yelled as she came into the kitchen. “I could use a little help.”
TV would have to wait as I jumped up from the couch. “What can I do?” I asked as she dropped her tennis bag on the floor and put a take-out order of Chinese food from Ho Ho Choy restaurant on the counter.”
“There is something on the front seat that’s too heavy for me. Please?” she pleaded.
I was a little suspicious as I headed to the garage wondering what could be heavier than her tennis bag that held three racquets and enough clothing for a weekend vacation. My suspicions were confirmed as I returned with her winner’s trophy. My only satisfaction was yelling “oh no,” as I pretended to drop it.
“Congratulations, honey, I’m so proud of you,” I said as we embraced. “What were the scores?”
“7-5, 6-3 in the semis and 7-6 (10-8) in a third set tiebreaker in the finals. She had me four match points.”
“Wow, I wish I could have been there. It certainly would have been more exciting than my day,” I said between mouthfuls of moo-shu pork.
“I was afraid to ask. When I didn’t hear from you I figured the news wasn’t good, and when I saw your car in the driveway I figured he must have lost in the semis.”
I nodded.
“How is he taking it?”
“Not well,” I said as I quickly related the long ride home. “He’s really down.”
“Well, he and I are going to have a little talk. We had an agreement. He shouldn’t be playing if he isn’t having fun.”
“Mary, let’s wait and see how he handles it tomorrow at practice. It’s not like he threw his racquet or had a temper tantrum. He’s just disappointed at losing. Who wouldn’t be?”
“You’re right; we should give him a chance to work things out in his own mind.”
“Did I hear you say that I was right?” I said with a smile. “That and your tennis win is a cause for celebration,” I said, leading her towards the bedroom.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yes I am.”
The next morning we got up early and noticed that someone had raided the refrigerator and the moo-shu pork had mysteriously disappeared. We knew it wasn’t Mama or Papa Simpson and Lisa didn’t eat that much. Our suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when Pete bounded down the steps in good spirits. “That Chinese food was great, Mom! What’s for breakfast?”
His good spirits carried over to his afternoon lesson with Gregg. Mary watched from her car and it seemed like Pete was a bundle of energy. After practice, she approached Gregg to get his input on Pete’s attitude.
“I don’t know what you were worried about, Mary. Pete never looked better. He certainly seems like he is putting yesterday’s loss behind him.”
“That’s terrific, Gregg. Did he say anything about it to you?”
“He just said that he should have won, but he choked. Pete feels terrible about losing the match on a double fault. We talked a little about the difference between choking and playing under pressure. We are going to work on a few things that will help him stay focused.”
“Like what?”
“You ever watch the Bollettieri kids, and how they always are adjusting their racquet strings between points. This is what his sports psychologist Jim Lenoir teaches as a way to reduce tension and help the player focus on the next point. We need to develop some kind of routine for Pete.”
“It sounds like a golfer’s routine that Jim keeps talking about.”
“The concept is exactly the same.”
“Just don’t let him start grunting or squealing.”
“Jim, there’s a call for you on line one, a Mr. Hunt from some construction company,” Grace announced via intercom. “It sounds important.”
“Take a message, Grace, we are in the middle of something here.”
“You might want to take this one, Jim. I tried to take a message, but he said he needs a quick response. He says he has an opportunity for us.”
Three of us were in my office discussing our new track leasing program. I looked across my desk at Sally and shrugged. I didn’t like being interrupted, but Grace had been with me for several years and her instincts were usually pretty good. She was more like an office manager than a secretary. “Okay, put him through, but I’m holding you responsible,” I said as I winked at Sally.
“Just add it to the list,” Grace mumbled as she put the call through.
“Jim Simpson here, may I help you?”
“Mr. Simpson, good morning. My name is Carl Lindner. My company is in a bit of a bind and I’m hoping you can help us out.”
“I’ll do what I can, what’s the problem?” I asked distractedly as I continued looking at the papers Sally and I had been reviewing. “Who is this again?”
“I’m sorry. My name is Carl Lindner, President of Hunt Construction Group out of Indianapolis. Maybe you have heard of us?”
Later Sally told me my mouth dropped open and my eyes opened wide. All I remembered was that Mr. Lindner suddenly had my full attention. Get Ken, I mouthed to Sally. Hunt Construction Group ranks as o
ne of the top construction firms in the nation with and specializes in building major league sports arenas. Hunt is also of the few American-owned construction companies.
“Of course I have, Mr. Lindner, and I apologize for being short with you. I was in the middle of something, but it can wait. What can I do for you, and please call me Jim.”
“We got ourselves in a little situation, Jim. Our firm is over committed. We bid on three projects that are scheduled to start next month. We expected to win one or two but as luck would have it, we just learned this morning that we were awarded all three jobs. It sounds good, but we don’t have the resources to take on all three projects at one time.”
“What type of work is it, and how much money are we talking about?” I was beginning to think he was looking for construction financing.
“One is a large utility plant and two are new sports stadiums for NFL teams. I don’t have the manpower to do all three. I’m not looking for money, Jim; I’m looking to farm out at least one of the projects to another construction company such as yours. Otherwise, the next highest bidder gets the work.”
Ken came into the room and sat down. “Carl, let me put you on speaker phone so my associate Ken Reed can listen in. Do you mind?”
“No, that’s fine. Hi Ken.”
“Good morning,” Ken responded, not sure who he was talking to.
“Ken, this is Carl Lindner, president of Hunt Construction. They apparently have too much on their plate and are wondering if we are in a position to help them out by taking over one of their projects. Is that about right Carl?”
“That’s pretty close, Jim. The project I have in mind is in your own back yard, the new stadium for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. I’m sure you have read about it?”
“I sure have. There is an article in the paper this morning that said Hunt Construction was awarded the work.”
“Carl, this is Ken. Will they let you sub the work out? The newspaper article said there were several bidders on that job including a couple other large construction firms. Didn’t Clark Construction bid?”
“They did, Ken, but Clark’s bid was not in the top two. The next highest bid was from a Korean company, and for various reasons, we would prefer they do not get this job. Normally the Korean firm would be automatically awarded the job, but in this case, I think I can get them to make an exception, particularly since you are based in Tampa. Hunt would need to be the contractor of record, but you would have complete autonomy and receive all the credit.”
“Why us, our only experience with football stadiums is the Mexico City sports arena.”
“I know, but I have my reasons, Jim. My people tell me the Mexico City job is going well. You will be pleased to know that City officials are giving you a great reference. We also have a great deal of respect for the construction manager that you hired away from Bouygues.”
“Marco Noah,” I interjected. “I’m glad to hear he is held in such high regard. We are happy with his work and he would certainly have responsibility for this new project.”
“Excellent. Another reason is that you are local, and American owned. I think the Tampa politicians are more likely to accept this restructuring if we bring in a local firm. You would be the general contractor and my people would be made available on a limited consulting basis, as you deem necessary. I’m sure we can work out the details.”
“I’m sure we can, Carl. Is there anything else?”
“Jim, most of our competitors are foreign-owned companies. George Hunt likes to help out American-owned companies whenever possible. George does not want another foreign company to get a toehold in the United States. That’s about it. Any questions?”
“I have one that comes to mind. I assume the construction contract you were awarded would allow us to make a profit? Would your company want anything off the top?”
“Not a dime, Jim, other than maybe a fair reimbursement of the work we put in to prepare our bid. Your firm will get 100% of what we negotiated, and believe me, it’s a fair contract. Hunt Construction doesn’t need to low-ball bids to get work.”
“So that’s about it, Interested?”
Ken and I exchanged why-not shrugs. “Absolutely, it sounds like a great opportunity. What’s the next step?”
“We will notify the Tampa Sports Authority immediately and try to set up a meeting for later this week. Are you available?”
“We’ll be there. In the meantime, please email us what you have so we can begin assembling our team.”
“Thanks gentlemen, I know you won’t be disappointed,” Carl said as he hung up the phone.
Ken let out a loud “Yes!” as we high-fived.
“Wow, what a start to the week. This could be a tremendous opportunity,” I said, thinking of what this might eventually lead to.
“Did I do good?” Grace asked as she stuck her head in the doorway.
“Yes you did,” I laughed as I came around my desk to give her a bear hug. Grace had four grandchildren and was a few pounds overweight, but today she was especially beautiful.
The next year Pete’s Florida ranking jumped to #7 in the 14-and-unders, due largely to wins in four tournaments. His best match was a victory in a designated tournament over a boy ranked #4 in the State. Pete lost in the finals to Florida’s #1 ranked player but earned USTA ranking points by winning a set. It was what the USTA called a good loss.
“A good loss” I thought. “That sounds like something some honest lawyer or concerned banker dreamed up.”
Chapter 11
Tampa Stadium