The Pigeon With the Tennis Elbow
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Authors: Matt Christopher
Books by Matt Christopher
Sports Stories
THE LUCKY BASEBALL BAT
BASEBALL PALS
BASKETBALL SPARKPLUG
TWO STRIKES ON JOHNNY
LITTLE LEFTY
TOUCHDOWN FOR TOMMY
LONG STRETCH AT FIRST BASE
BREAK FOR THE BASKET
TALL MAN IN THE PIVOT
CHALLENGE AT SECOND BASE
CRACKERJACK HALFBACK
BASEBALL FLYHAWK
SINK IT, RUSTY
CATCHER WITH A GLASS ARM
WINGMAN ON ICE
TOO HOT TO HANDLE
THE COUNTERFEIT TACKLE
THE RELUCTANT PITCHER
LONG SHOT FOR PAUL
MIRACLE AT THE PLATE
THE TEAM THAT COULDN'T LOSE
THE YEAR MOM WON THE PENNANT
THE BASKET COUNTS
HARD DRIVE TO SHORT
CATCH THAT PASS!
SHORTSTOP FROM TOKYO
LUCKY SEVEN
JOHNNY LONG LEGS
LOOK WHO'S PLAYING FIRST BASE
TOUGH TO TACKLE
THE KID WHO ONLY HIT HOMERS
FACE-OFF
MYSTERY COACH
ICE MAGIC
NO ARM IN LEFT FIELD
JINX GLOVE
FRONT COURT HEX
THE TEAM THAT STOPPED MOVING
GLUE FINGERS
THE PIGEON WITH THE TENNIS ELBOW
Animal Stories
DESPERATE SEARCH
STRANDED
EARTHQUAKE
COPYRIGHT © 1975 BY MATTHEW F. CHRISTOPHER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS INCLUDING
INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER, EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER WHO MAY QUOTE
BRIEF PASSAGES IN A REVIEW.
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-316-09602-7
To John G.Keller
Contents
T
HE BALL BLURRED
for an instant as it boomed from Rusty Maxwell's high-swinging racket and came slicing across the net. It struck the asphalt
court near the right baseline, bounced up and took a little sidewise twist.
The serve was a good one. Kevin O'Toole grimaced as he prepared to return the shot. Rusty's best play was his serve, and it
had put him ahead in this game as it had in so many others.
Whoom!
Kevin met the ball with a solid forehand swing, holding the racket with both hands, and sent it streaking back over the net.
His return brought a hint of a smile to Kevin's lips. The ball was heading far to Rusty's left side and Rusty was running
after it full tilt.
He failed to get to it and the ball bounced past him for a tied score, 15–15.
A smattering of applause, and the cheer of a familiar voice, followed, embarrassing Kevin so that his face grew flushed.
He shot his sister a dirty look. “Oh, cut that out, will ya, Gin?” he said, though hardly loud enough for her to hear him.
Ginnie, a year younger than he, flashed dark eyes at him and gave her black hair a shake that left the long waves dangling
over her shoulders. Although almost a head shorter than he, Ginnie could swing a racket with the best of them. Often she beat
her brother by margins he was ashamed to talk about.
A dry laugh rumbled from a boy sitting on the bottom row of seats flanking one side of the court, and once again Kevin felt
his face grow pink. Roger Murphy, a skilled tennis player and Rusty Maxwell's friend, had a knack for bugging opponents without
saying a word.
Kevin took his eyes off Roger and looked over the small crowd that had come to watch the game. Ordinarily he hated being watched
as he played. But, he realized, a crowd of some sort always gathered to watch a good tennis match.
He looked across the net and saw Rusty ready to serve. Spreading his legs and grabbing hold of the racket's long smooth handle
with both hands, Kevin waited.
Up went the ball, and up on his tiptoes went Rusty. He met the ball squarely, driving it like a shot toward the net. It was
too low, though, striking the top of the net and dropping on his side.
He tossed up the other ball that he had, rising again on his tiptoes as he offered the serve. This time the blow was softer.
Kevin followed it easily and banged it back across the net, aiming it toward Rusty's left corner. Rusty got there in time
and hit it back. Kevin, waiting near the back court, ran in and struck the ball hard on the peak of its bounce and sent it
like a bullet toward Rusty's right corner. The shot was good and Kevin went into the lead, 15–30.
Again came the smattering of applause which Kevin pretended to ignore. He'd just have to talk with Ginnie after the game,
that's all there was to it.
An out of bounds serve, then a driving serve that hit the net, scored another point for Kevin, making it 15–40, his favor.
He stepped back into the corner, taking a deep breath of the warm June air that carried with it the smell of pines from the
nearby woods.
Rusty's next serve was good, and for a while he and Kevin knocked the ball back and forth, neither getting a good shot.
Then Kevin made a return from the throat of his racket. He groaned as the ball went askew toward the side of the court, striking
the net and dropping on his side. 30–40.
He scored the next point, winning the game, as Rusty belted the ball outside the right baseline. He was now leading two games
to one in the first set.
He walked off the court, wiping his sweating face with a handkerchief.
“Quit making all the noise, will you?” he said in a low voice to Ginnie.
“What noise?” she said.
“You know what noise,” he answered.
“You mean my cheering for you? What's wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except that you're the only one I hear. Just calm it down a little. O.K.?”
She shrugged. “O.K. But beat him, will you? I want you to play that Roger codger next.”
He looked at her, then took a swallow of water from the fountain and returned to the court. Why did she have to remind him
of that, anyway?
Rusty broke Kevin's serve and won the next game, making it two games apiece.
Kevin clamped his lips tightly in disgust as he heard the crowd applaud for Rusty. He had played badly in that game, and he
blamed it on Ginnie. She had reminded him that the winner of today's match would play Roger Murphy, and Roger's name had stuck
in his mind like a scary movie. Few guys had the ability to knock off Roger on the tennis court, and Kevin was not one of
them. At least not yet. Why did she have to open up her mouth, anyway?
He tried to push Roger out of his mind as the next game started, and managed to buzz ahead of Rusty, love-30, before Rusty
seemed to know what was happening. Then Rusty scored on a blistering hot serve that Kevin missed by a foot. 15–30. Kevin took
the next two points, though, and won the game.
“Three more to go and it's your set,” said Ginnie as he came and sat down on the bench beside her.
“Three more is a lot,” he said. “I wish it was just one more.”
“Oh, Kev,” said Ginnie, her hands squeezed tightly on her lap. “That's your trouble. A defeatist attitude.”
“Oh. That what it is?”
He knew that that's what it was, too. But he could not admit it. Especially to her.
Coo-coo! Coo-coo!
The sound barely registered with Kevin as he thought about going back on the court to start the next game. Then it came again,
and this time he looked for its source.
He saw it, a grayish-white pigeon that was perched on top of the pole in the southwest corner of the court. Its broad wings
spread out, and for a moment Kevin thought that it was going to fly off. Then it closed its wings about its round, plump body
and relaxed as if it had come to watch and enjoy the game.
Coo-coo! Coo-coo!
it chanted again.
“Even that pigeon is laughing at me,” Kevin murmured.
Ginnie giggled. “You're a dilly,” she said.
“O.K., boys!” said Ben Switzer, the playground director. “Let's go!”
Kevin got two balls from the ball boy, for now it was his turn to serve. He stood in position, tossed up a ball and rose to
meet it on his tiptoes, his racket held high. Bang! The ball blazed across the net like a shot.
Rusty met it with the face of his racket, driving it back. As it struck the court and bounced up, Kevin lashed at it with
a hard, two-handed stroke. Racket met ball squarely and sent it buzzing back.
Oh, no! Kevin almost screamed as he saw the ball streak for the top of the net.
It hit the net and dropped softly on the other side.
“Darn!” Rusty yelled.
There was a brief applause, then silence. A moment later the silence cracked as a voice said, “What a cheap shot
that
was.”
The remark made Kevin angry. He turned and stared at Roger. Someday he'd show that wise guy!
K
EVIN TOOK THE NEXT
two points, making the score 40-love, and prepared for what could be his last serve of the game. It was a solid drive to
Rusty's left side.
Rusty shifted his racket and dealt the ball a hard, backhand blow. The return was good. The ball barely cleared the net and
bounced close to Kevin's right sideline. Then, even as Kevin hit the return, he knew the shot was a bad one. The ball sliced
off to the left, curving outside the baseline. A point for Rusty.