Tennis Ace
Authors: Matt Christopher
Copyright © 2000 by Catherine M. Christopher
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
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Contents
The #1 Sports Series for KIDS: MATT CHRISTOPHER
To Julia Catherine
S
teve Greeley wiped his face with a towel. His throat was dry, and he wished he had a gallon of cold water or lemonade right
now. He felt exhausted … and all he was doing was sitting in the bleachers, watching his sister Ginny play a tennis match.
It was an awesomely steamy day.
Ginny, who was fourteen, was playing a quarterfinal in the girls’ fourteen-and-under class of the State Junior Tennis Championship.
She didn’t seem to mind the heat at all. Ginny had amazing stamina, and at the moment she was running her opponent, a tall,
slender girl, back and forth across the baseline with perfectly placed forehands. Ginny looked cool and in control. Steve,
twelve, was due to play his own match in a few minutes: a quarterfinal in the
boys’ twelve-and-under class. He was hot and uncomfortable enough for both of them.
Next to him, his father nudged him with an elbow. “I used to love playing on days like this,” Mr. Greeley said. “I’d make
my opponents run around until they were ready to drop, just like Ginny’s doing to that poor kid now”
Ted Greeley had been the star of his college tennis team when he was younger. In fact, as both his kids knew, he had been
considered a good prospect for the pro tour. He believed that he might have gone on to have a great career and become a household
name, but a knee injury had put an end to his dreams of stardom. He had made it clear he wanted to see his son accomplish
what he hadn’t been able to do.
Steve shrugged. “I won’t have to work that hard today. I’m playing Charlie Silver, and I beat him twice already this year.”
Mr. Greeley frowned at his son. “Don’t take Charlie for granted. He’ll be psyched up today. He’ll go all out to win, and you’d
better plan on doing the same thing.”
Steve wiped his face again. “I’ll take care of Charlie, don’t worry. I have to pace myself, that’s all. The semis are tomorrow,
and it could be just as hot.”
Ginny smashed a cross-court forehand just out of her opponent’s reach, and the crowd applauded.
“Game to Miss Greeley,” the umpire announced. “She leads the first set, five games to two.”
Mr. Greeley clapped, too, but he was studying his son and looking anxious. “It’s important that you play your best today.
I don’t want you to just get by. You should dominate this match.”
Steve stared at his father. “Huh? How come today is so important? It’s not the finals.”
“Well,” said his father, “there’s a special reason, but it’s a surprise. You’ll find out after your match. For now, you’ll
have to trust me that you’ll really be happy about it. But you should give it all you’ve got, believe me. Okay?”
“Sure.” Steve didn’t feel like arguing. He knew that he could beat Charlie. He wondered why his dad was being so mysterious.
Maybe Dad was going to give him the CD player he’d been wanting, as a reward for doing well. He decided that there wasn’t
any point in thinking about it now and turned his attention to the court below, where Ginny was about to serve for what could
be the game that won the set.
Ginny had been perfecting a topspin serve that
jumped away from an opponent, and she used it now. Sure enough, the ball hit the corner of the service box, then darted away
like a startled rabbit.
The other player seemed to know that she was beaten. Clearly she was feeling the heat, even though Ginny might as well have
been playing on a cool day in Alaska, for all the weather seemed to affect her.
Steve sometimes wished that he had his sister’s steely determination and her ability to focus completely on tennis. On the
other hand, he liked his life the way it was. Tennis was fun, but there was so much else to enjoy: good music, movies, hanging
out with his friends …
His father cut off his train of thought with a tap on his arm. “Let’s go. You have to get ready for your match.”
“
Now
?” Steve pointed to the clock on the clubhouse wall. “I have lots of time. We can watch Ginny for a while yet.”
“You need to warm up,” his dad insisted.
“In this weather?” Steve started to laugh, but the laughter died in his throat when he saw his father’s expression.
Mr. Greeley stood up. “I know you, Champ. You
need a lot of time to get your head into the game. Don’t worry about Ginny; she’s got this match all sewn up and she doesn’t
need us to sit here rooting for her. She’ll understand that you have your own worries to deal with. Let’s go.”
Steve knew that there was no point in trying to change his dad’s mind once it was set. He sighed and followed his father as
they edged their way to the aisle.
On the court, Ginny looked up and caught her brother’s eye. She frowned. Steve shrugged and pointed to their father.
Ginny smiled, letting Steve know she knew why they were leaving. Steve gave her a thumbs-up sign.
As they headed toward the clubhouse, Steve heard the solid
thwack
of Ginny’s serve and applause from the crowd. The umpire said, “Thirty—love.”
Her match would be over in seconds. They could easily have stayed to see her win. It didn’t seem fair to Steve. But that’s
the way it was.
You just didn’t argue with Ted Greeley when it came to tennis.
W
hen Steve and his dad entered the club locker room, there were only a couple of men at one end. Charlie Silver, Steve noted,
was nowhere in sight yet. Apparently,
Charlie
didn’t need that much time to “get his head into the game.” But Steve kept his thoughts to himself. He wondered again what
his dad’s surprise might be and went to get a drink of water from the fountain at the end of the room.
“Don’t drink too much,” cautioned Mr. Greeley. “You don’t want to get bloated.”
Steve, who had known that without being told, straightened up and smiled at his father. “I sure don’t,” he said.
Mr. Greeley sat on a bench and stared hard at
Steve. “You remember your other matches against Charlie?” he asked. “What were his weaknesses?”
Steve, who had been through this kind of grilling before, was careful not to show his impatience. And who knew, maybe it
was
helpful.
“He rushes the net too much, so I can win a lot of points with passing shots. If he gets behind quickly, he can get discouraged
and lose his concentration. When his first serve is a fault, his second serve can be real weak. And he wears dorky clothes.”
His dad had been smiling, but he looked annoyed at Steve’s last statement. “How about trying to be serious? All right?”
“Sorry,” Steve mumbled.
His dad nodded. “Okay. What are his strengths?”
“Strong first serve, killer backhand, real tough at the net. If I don’t hit a passing shot while he’s coming in, I have to
try to back him off with high lobs or he’ll kill me.”
Mr. Greeley smiled again. “Good.” He looked around. “Where is Charlie, anyway?”
Steve shrugged and picked up a racket. Charlie, he thought with a touch of envy, knew better than to
show up any earlier than necessary on a day like this. They weren’t due on the court for half an hour, and it wasn’t going
to help his game at all to sit around like this, whatever his dad thought.
Mr. Greeley moved over next to his son and sighed. “I envy you, Steve. You know why?”
Steve knew exactly what was coming, but also knew better than to say so.
“I envy you because you’ve got a chance. A real chance. The thing that really gets me,” his dad went on, as he had done a
hundred times before, “is that I’ll
never know
. Maybe I would have been a major star, and maybe not.
“But I would rather have been a complete flop as a pro than never to have had my shot.” His father shook his head sadly. “At
least that way, I’d be sure that I just didn’t have what it takes. It would have been tough at first, but I would have gotten
over it, and I would know that I had given it my best and failed.”
He laid a hand on Steve’s leg. “I don’t want you to feel that way when you’re my age — wondering what might have been, ’if
only.’ What worries me about you, Champ, is that you’ll blow your opportunity
and then wake up when it’s too late and start kicking yourself.”
“I know, Dad,” Steve replied. He couldn’t look his father in the eye. His unspoken thought was, It won’t happen to me, because
making it as a pro doesn’t matter to me the way it did to you, or the way it does to Ginny. But I can’t tell you that. I wish
I could, but I just can’t.
“How about giving me a hint about your big surprise?” he asked his father. “Is it something that plays CDs?”
Mr. Greeley smiled and shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t say anything yet. All I can tell you is, you want to look
good out there today.”
“Hey, Steve, how’re you doing?” Charlie Silver, with a smile on his face, walked down to where the Greeleys sat. “Sure is
hot out there. Hi, Mr. Greeley.”
Mr. Greeley nodded but didn’t smile back. Steve saw that his father had his “game face” on, as if
he
were the one who was going out to face Charlie in a little while.
Steve managed to keep a straight face at the sight of Charlie’s ugly shirt with big diamond-shaped
patches of purple and green. No one who dressed like that could ever be a champion, he decided. Who picks those shirts? Maybe
he’s color-blind.
“I’m doing great,” Steve said, standing up. “Tell you what, I’ll make sure we’re not out in the hot sun too long, all right?”
Charlie laughed. “You mean you’ll let me whip you real fast today? Is that what he means, Mr. Greeley?”
Steve’s father scowled. He didn’t like to joke about tennis matches.
But Steve grinned. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”
A minute later, a man stuck his head into the locker room. “Steve Greeley, Charlie Silver? You guys ready?”
“Right here,” said Steve.
“All set,” Charlie called out.
“Good, we’ll be ready for you in five minutes,” the man replied. “I’ll come and get you. Stay in here and keep cool as long
as you can. It’s brutal out there.”
Steve snorted. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
Nobody said anything for the next few minutes. For all that he’d been joking around, Steve thought
Charlie looked nervous. He himself was mostly thinking about how hot and uncomfortable he’d been just sitting and watching
his sister. Now he’d have to hustle … well, a little, anyway.
The tournament official returned to the locker room. “Okay, guys, let’s go. Your turn in the steam room.”
T
he stands were more than half full when the two players came out on the court, and there was some cheerful applause. Steve
blinked in the bright sunshine and looked around. His father yelled something about hanging tough and headed for a seat. Steve
heard a few voices call out his name as he put down his spare rackets, a windbreaker (totally unnecessary), and several towels
(very necessary). He did a few stretches to limber up.
As hot as it had been in the stands, it was even hotter on the court, he decided. Either the temperature had gone up or the
all-weather surface of the court was acting as a giant sun reflector. Whatever the reason, he would have to make sure he drank
plenty of liquids today, to make up for all the sweating he’d be doing.
The umpire spun a racket and Steve called, “Up.” The racket came down with the logo on the end of it facing up, which meant
that Steve would serve first.
He and Charlie began warming up, hitting balls back and forth, using both forehand and backhand, not working too hard at it.
Steve felt loose and ready to go in a couple of minutes. He called to Charlie, “You ready?”
Charlie nodded. Both boys turned and signaled the umpire, who was now sitting in his chair at one side of the net, that they
were all set to go.
The umpire turned on his microphone. “This is a quarterfinal match in the boys’ twelve-and-under class. The players are Charlie
Silver, on my right, and Steve Greeley, on my left. Steve will serve first. The players may begin.”
