Love Game - Season 2011 (2 page)

She needed distraction from her wandering thoughts. As soon as the plane was airborne Elise got up and pulled out her trolley case from the baggage compartment. But the moment she opened her suitcase she felt her heart skip a beat. Elise was looking at two carefully packed heaps of training shorts and tops. Apparently she had mixed up her bags at the counter and had checked-in the trolley case with her hand luggage.

What had she been thinking? Well, she didn’t know anymore what she’d been thinking. She sighed. She couldn’t even tell what went wrong and why. How could she expect to win any matches if she was distracted so easily by – well, by what exactly? She didn’t know.

Now her hand luggage with her laptop, her books and clothes to change into were buried in the airplane belly. Sheepishly she closed the lid again, about to haul the bag up to the luggage compartment when she felt something bulky in the front pocket. She opened the zipper and pulled out a copy of
Tennis Nurse
.

Agnes, her friend from France, had lent her the cheesy novel two months ago at the end of her last tournament. Elise had begun reading it around Christmas time and had found the writing awfully over the top and the characters unbearably corny. After five pages she had given up, left it underneath the bed and had forgotten about it. This morning, just when she was about to switch off the lights in her bedroom, leaving it tidy and quiescent for the next month, she remembered the book Agnes had gone into raptures about. Her friend would decapitate her with a furious swing of her racquet, if she didn’t get her book back. In a hurry Elise had grabbed it from under the bed and had stuffed it into the next best suitcase.

Now she had nothing else to do during a fifteen hour journey to Australia. She took a look at the front cover again.
Tennis Nurse and The Girl Who Preferred The Grass
. This was ridiculous. Who would write such nonsense? The author’s name was clearly a pseudonym and it was probably the best two words this woman had ever come up with. Elise chuckled. She opened the first page and began to read.

Perth, Australia

The sun, the earth, the water disappearing in the sink – everything on this continent moved in the wrong direction.

Standing over the sink and watching the water run, Robyn Lawrence quite literally saw her prospects of having a grand Hopman Cup going down the drain. He had brought his girlfriend. Since when did he have a girlfriend? And why was she so beautiful and sweet? And funny. And nice. At least, she looked like that from a distance when Robyn had witnessed Ted and his new girl giving an interview. Robyn looked at herself in the mirror frowning. And why must there be a terribly red pimple on her nose? And not to mention the horrible dress she had to wear for the party a day ago. To make things worse there was not one Top Shop to be seen in miles to save the day. This really was the outback. She had no idea how to endure a whole press conference next to Teddy.

In October she had received the invitation for the prestigious mixed doubles tournament and she had been terribly excited. Moreover, she was delighted to hear it was Teddy whom she would partner with. Not only was he the No. 8 player of the ATP tour, more important for Robyn was the fact that he possessed masterful dancing skills as he had demonstrated at last year’s Winners Ball at Wimbledon, when she was the Junior Champion and was granted a dance with the dashing British runner-up. Their lucky pairing at the Hopman Cup promised a replay at one of the special events in the evening.

But most of all she had really looked forward to the time spent with him away from the tennis events. Ted Curry had quite a reputation and Australia seemed to bring out the worst in him – which promised a really good time in Robyn's book. She had hoped he would take her along and introduce her to the Aussie night life. But now he seemed constantly preoccupied with his new girlfriend.

With a loud bang the door opened and Amy, one of the cheerful Australian volunteers peeped inside.

“Are you coming?” she asked. Apparently this twenty-something was getting paid by the ITF to ruin the rare moments of quietude Robyn tried to squeeze in, while constantly sporting a big, sunny smile. How Robyn hated sunny, smiling twenty-something girls from Australia! Ted’s new girl was from Melbourne. She had found out by talking to one of the journalists after Ted's interview. So she’d probably be around for the whole Australian Open which started in two weeks. Great. Fantastic. Nothing she could do about it, Robyn concluded. There was just one way to live through the pain, as her good friend Gemma Heffington once wisely said:
Keep calm and party on.
Reluctantly, Robyn followed Amy through the hallway into the media center. With a big grin the Australian girl pushed her into one of the press conference rooms. It was already filling with reporters and photographers, and in the far end she could make out the dashing figure of Ted Curry.             

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Robyn muttered. She took a deep breath and walked to the table in the front.

***

“Time,” Lynn said.

Sitting high above the court the chair umpire pressed the button of the microphone. Yelena Kovalenko from the Ukraine and Sasha Mrachova of the Czech Republic headed to the baselines.

Yelena was a hard hitting lefty who was able and willing to come to the net to finish the points in magnificent fashion. She also had a sense of drama, amusing the audience with ridiculous challenges, when she believed a call had gone against her. Not only the audience enjoyed the entertainment, Lynn had to admit, even though her face would never reveal her delight when Yelena threw one of her tantrums over a bad challenge.

On the other side Sasha gave the ball boy her towel and accepted the balls he handed her. The Czech was only twenty-five years of age but considered already a veteran player as she had won two Grand Slams so far. However, it was four years now since she had won her last major title. After nagging shoulder injuries her serve was past its prime and most experts would have said, so was she.              

Waiting for the server to choose the right balls Lynn allowed herself a look at the stands and noticed a familiar player with flaming red hair sitting down quickly in a chair in the upper stands – Amanda Auster, a Top 10 player from Australia. Playing in two different groups in the group stage of the tournament the Australians would have to play the Czechs until the final. If they made it to the final. And if they made it there, there was only small hope that the Australian team could take home this title. As if Amanda’s struggle to play in front of the home crowd wasn’t distressing enough she had a terrible record against Sasha. The Australian had never even won a set against the tall brunette from the Czech Republic.

More than once Lynn had chosen the Australian redhead as one of her girls in the Love Game and it had proven costly. Whenever Lynn had given Amanda another chance in the Love Game she had lost the title. Amanda never ended up with the girls the umpire had predicted. Mostly she stayed alone or was really good at keeping her relationships private. There had never been players’ party stories about Amanda and most of Lynn's colleagues considered her boring and had never chosen her for the Love Game, nevertheless Lynn liked Amanda. The Australian was one of the nicest players on tour. She was also a pleasure to watch on the court with her strong serve and impeccable forehand. She had entered the Top 10 two years ago and if it wasn't for the Australian season she'd even have a Top 3 ranking, the umpire concluded.

Lynn turned her concentration back to the match. Sasha had taken the first set from the older Ukrainian, but now Yelena was fighting back in formidable fashion. With her volleys she forced Sasha to move to the net, where the Czech never looked too good and if Sasha reached the ball the Ukrainian would lob her. Whenever she could Sasha tried to dominate the game with her groundstrokes. She hit them hard and flat and close to the lines. It was a battle between two very different players, which made the match even more breathtaking. After over an hour the players had leveled the score at 6 all.

“Tiebreak,” Lynn announced.

Even if Sasha seemed like the better player throughout the match, in the second set her first serve was deserting her more and more. Her weak second serve was attackable, and there was a good chance for Yelena to take the match into a third and deciding set.

For the tiebreak the players were granted an extra challenge, and in Yelena’s case this was much needed. Her previous attempts had turned out to be unsuccessful. She had to start the tiebreak with only two challenges left, including the extra challenge the players received after twelve games. During the tiebreak Yelena used one of her challenges at the score of 3-2 when she had hit a forehand cross-court. A lines person had called the ball out and Lynn had confirmed it after Yelena had asked. However, the Ukrainian had challenged the call nevertheless. It had been the wrong decision. Even though she had lost the point, she had fought back and Sasha’s double fault at 5 all had handed Yelena a set point. After another lengthy exchange of shots Sasha’s shot seemed to be wide but there was no call. Yelena played the ball but raised her hand immediately afterwards and nodded at Lynn to indicate she would challenge the shot which she thought the line umpire had incorrectly seen as in. After fighting so hard in the second set, after coming through such tight games, the Ukrainian was not willing to give this tiebreak and the match to Sasha. With the crowd joining the excitement when the video screen showed a slow-motion replay of the ball, challenges set off a wave of adrenalin in the crowd as well as the players. It was 6-5 for Yelena and if she challenged correctly Lynn would have had the ball replayed.

But the ball was in. It had caught the line by a tiny margin. The crowd roared in excitement and Lynn called the score at 6 all. In frustration Yelena swung her racquet and smashed it onto the ground. It bounced back right into her hand. It was a motion the Ukrainian used so often on court it had become her trademark move whenever things went against her. She definitely was feeling the pressure mounting on her shoulders now. In silence she headed to her chair. Lynn was sure that, more than any bad shot, it was this bad challenge that would decide the match in the end, and she was right. Two points later the tiebreak was over. Sasha Mrachova decided her first match of the season with two brilliant forehand winners. With the voice that never gave away her feelings, Lynn called the final score and began thinking of the match ahead of her.

***

Whether the injury was serious or not the physiotherapist couldn’t tell yet. But the ankle was swollen like a balloon and it didn't look like it should bear the slightest weight.

Elise Renard was sitting in the small infirmary next to the center court and observing the clock above the door. When would a doctor come and give them a diagnosis? After waiting another five minutes she finally got up and walked into the treatment room where her German partner Christoph Franke was lying on a  bench. He was covering his face with his hands and his coach was pressing a bag of ice against his injured ankle.

It had happened during their practice. They were trying out different combinations and doubles tactics when Franke made a quick step backwards to reach for an over-head smash and thereby twisted his right ankle. Sitting down on the ground immediately he had reached out for his foot and carefully moved the joint. When he finally looked up to Elise and his coach he had a desperate look in his eyes. Sometimes a player just knew without the expertise of a doctor that the injury was serious. Elise’s heart had sunk. Not only because she knew how Christoph had to feel as she had experienced it herself, but also because a serious injury meant that Christoph wouldn’t be able to play the tournament. What would she do then, as this was a team competition?

“How does it feel?” Elise asked her partner, hoping that her words sounded cheerful. Christoph lifted his hands and managed to give her a quick smile.

“Terrible,” he answered.

In that moment a doctor came in and Elise decided it was best to leave the room again. She gave Christoph a little pat on the shoulder and walked to the door only to bump into the tournament director who rushed into the infirmary with a very worried look on his face.

***

Judging from the pastiness of the journalists’ skin, they were collectively shipped here straight from cold Blighty to follow the British tennis phenomenon Robyn had become last year and, of course, Top 10 player Ted Curry. Not a bad assignment one would think. However, they all looked gloomy and tired. And judging from their questions they were all jetlagged or perhaps just simple-minded.

Except for one guy seated on the right side. He was quite good-looking and even though he had a slight sunburn there was something about him that excited Robyn. He was wearing surf trunks and a scruffy t-shirt. His clothes clearly set him apart from all the other scribblers and with his reddish, disheveled curls he gave the impression of an Aussie surfer out of water. Footloose somehow, but with maturity. Robyn imagined him travelling the world with a backpack and a surfboard under his arm. What was someone like him doing at a tennis tournament? He had to be a journalist to get accreditation for the press conference, but Robyn had never seen him on the tour before and so far he hadn’t asked a thing. He just looked up occasionally at her and Ted. Then typed words into his laptop. She hoped he would ask her a question. She hoped she could think of a witty answer. Perhaps he would come up after the presser for a little chat. Suddenly, Robyn didn’t feel so frustrated any more. After all, at twenty-five, Ted was a tad too immature, she thought.