Diva
Five
IN THE MORNING, Allison was all business, and she proved herself an efficient coach/manager. We were up early and headed for United Center where the Bulls play basketball and the Blackhawks play hockey. They bring in big boxes to set up each racquetball court complete with floor and ceiling. The one at center court was Plexiglass so spectators could sit around on three sides. The end wall was solid. With the seating pulled back to the hockey boundaries, there was room to set up twelve courts, plus an open area in the middle for the glass box. Tempe was great, but this was massive and unbelievable. Only half the courts were fully set and operational when we got there at half past eight and they were already full with athletes who were there early.
Registration went smoothly as far as I was concerned. Allison just told the person at the desk that Coach Grant was sick and she’d been sent by SCU to fill in for her. Since racquetball is a club sport and not an official NCAA sport, there’s no clear demarcation about who is and isn’t qualified to be a coach. I could have brought Mr. Miyagi. In addition to the rigidly set times on the official courts, six local athletic clubs had facilities available for practice and even some matches. With more than 350 competitors in town, court time was at a premium. The practice schedule was already set and we discovered my court reservation was not only at a club miles away, it was twenty minutes ago.
Then I saw Allison go into action.
“This is not acceptable. You can’t assign a practice session before registration opens in the morning.”
“All the athletes currently on the courts had practice before registration opened. We just got them in and they register afterward.”
“And how did they know to be here at that time?”
“They were all notified.”
“Tony Ames was not notified.”
“We sent the information to his coach.”
“His coach is ill.”
“Not our problem.”
“Do you know who his coach is?” That stopped the conversation. The registration person shuffled through the papers.
“Someone named Lissa Grant,” the woman said. She looked blankly at Allison.
“Would you please call someone to the registration table who knows racquetball?” Allison said coolly.
“There’s really no need,” the woman answered. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“I’ll call the tournament director then. I have his private number,” Allison said, pulling out her cell phone. “Unless you can get someone over here with some authority.” The woman looked at Allison carefully and got up from the desk. She was out of her depth and knew it. They didn’t hire her to deal with this kind of crap. She was only supposed to take names and issue credentials.
“I’ll go get my supervisor,” she said as she left.
“Tony! How are you, man?”
I turned around to see who in the world would know I even existed. I found myself face-to-face with Karl Higgendorfer, the reigning A-division champ.
“Oh… hey, Karl. Good to see you.” We shook hands. We hadn’t said much to each other in Tempe and I was surprised that he even recognized me here.
“You getting ready for your practice court?”
“Trying. They tell me my practice court is in someplace called Cicero and it was twenty minutes ago,” I said, trying to make light of it.
“No way! Is the Ice Queen with you? She’ll rip them a new one,” Karl laughed.
“Unfortunately she’s sick, but Allison’s doing a damn good job on my behalf.”
Karl looked around me and noticed Allison for the first time. They held each other’s eyes for a moment and I could see Allison fighting not to smile at Karl.
“Al-li-son?” he drew her name out emphasizing every syllable. “What have you got yourself into?”
“Hey Karl. I’m substitute Ice Queen today,” Allison answered. She was no longer able to hold back the smile and stepped up to Karl. They hugged like old friends.
“Tony, I heard it was this girl who got you in trouble in Tempe. You trust her here?” Karl asked.
“We’ve gotten to know each other a little better since Tempe,” I said. “Lissa picked her to chaperone me in Chicago.”
The registration lady was back with an official looking guy in a sports coat and open collared blue shirt. He had a tag on that said STAFF. He pulled us aside and Karl stepped up to the table to register.
“I’m sorry,” STAFF said. “I don’t know how this could have happened, except that Tony is unseeded and it’s pretty automatic to send them to the furthest clubs. We sent Ms. Grant an email on Saturday telling her to take her athlete directly to the club and just give his name for admission.”
Allison explained that Lissa had been sick and unable to look at email over the weekend. My phone vibrated as Allison was explaining and, appropriately enough, it was a message from Lissa. It just said, “Sick sick sick. Glad you aren’t here!” I showed it to Allison and she turned it so STAFF could see it.
“Please express my sympathy and good wishes to Ms. Grant,” he said. “Let me see what I can find later in the day. We may have had a cancellation or a late flight. This will take me a few minutes.” We nodded and I turned around to almost plow into Karl.
“I’ve got an idea,” Karl said, “if you guys don’t mind. I heard what happened. I’ve got court time for an hour at eleven. Why don’t you join me?” I looked at him blankly.
“Me?” I squeaked. Karl laughed at me and turned to Allison.
“Ms. Perkins, I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t get to play against your boy here in Tempe. I’ve beaten Rob Snyder every time we’ve met. While I was watching Tony play in the semis I thought sure I was going to get some fresh meat for the finals. Really a tough break with the ankle.” He turned to me. “Fully recovered?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “I’m taping, but it’s pretty solid.”
“Then how about a pre-tournament match-up?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Why would you want to play me?”
“Well, I’ve got reasons, and—no offense intended—it’s not likely that we’ll meet in this tournament. If we both win every match, it would be the fifth round before we meet according to the brackets. If one of us drops to the lower bracket, there’s no telling if we’d meet before finals. I’d like to find out what I missed out on in Tempe,” Karl explained.
“Karl?” Allison looked at him and dragged him away, just snapping at me to “stay!”
STAFF was coming back with a clipboard and a worried look on his face when Allison and Karl rejoined me.
“I’m sorry,” STAFF said. “The best I could get for you was court time here at ten-thirty tonight for half an hour. I know it’s not optimal with Tony’s first match at eleven tomorrow morning and the banquet tonight, but I’m afraid it’s the best I can do.”
“It’s okay,” Allison said, much to STAFF’s relief. “We’ve worked out another solution. Karl Higgendorfer has issued a pre-tournament challenge to Tony Ames during his practice time at eleven this morning. Does the tournament staff have any objections?”
STAFF looked up at Karl and became almost obsequious.
“Mr. Higgendorfer, is this true?”
“Yeah. I understand there’s going to be some media guys here and I want to show them how I plan to treat my opponents this week,” Karl said. “Tony’s my sacrificial lamb.”
Shit! What was I into now? Allison agreed to this? There’s going to be media watching Karl warm up and he wants to pummel me in front of them? I was about to blow up when Allison grabbed my arm and hauled me away.
“Shut up and don’t make a scene. That’s my job,” she said. “Karl has to talk big. Don’t let it get to you. We’ve got an hour to get you dressed and in focus. Are you with me, Tony?”
She sounded so much like Lissa that my head snapped into the game. I reached for my headset and thumbed in my best playlist. In a second, Queen was shouting “We Are the Champions” into my ears. Allison walked straight into the men’s locker room yelling “Cover your dicks!” as she walked through to my assigned locker. Only I heard her mutter, “or don’t.” She sat me down on a bench and pulled my shoe off to wrap my ankle. She did a good job, too. I had enough freedom of movement to feel like I wasn’t playing flatfooted, but enough support to make it comfortable.
As soon as I was taped, Allison slapped me on the rump and said, “Get ready.” Then she left the locker room with one last call back to the room at large. “As you were, gentlemen!”
One of the guys caught my attention and I pulled my headset off.
“Sorry to interrupt you, but was that…?”
“The Ice Queen,” I completed for him. I nodded and snapped the headset back in place. I saw Karl across the room and a buzz was starting among the players. Of everyone here, the only ones I’d met were Karl and Rob Snyder. I hadn’t seen Rob yet. But everyone who Karl spoke to turned to look at me. I didn’t know what he was telling people. I was dropping into my zone.
If I hadn’t had that time on the court with Karl, I’d have died a quick death the next morning. Karl’s practice time was in the Plexiglass court so the media could get good pictures of the action. Playing in a glass cube is nothing like playing in a regular court. You can’t see the fucking walls! Karl took me down eleven-to-one in the first game. I didn’t feel like I was even giving him a workout. All he did was serve. When we finished that game, Karl motioned both our coaches into the cage.
“Coach, Tony’s new at this and you know Allison. She can play the game, but she can’t explain it,” Karl said. “Could you tell Tony how to see the walls so we can give these guys a good game to write about?”
The older guy grinned.
“You sure you want the competition, Karl?” he asked.
“It’s my last collegiate competition, Coach. A guy’s gotta have some fun.”
Karl and Allison batted the ball around a bit in the forecourt while his coach took me aside. She was feeding him backhands against the front wall and I noticed how consistent she was before the coach spoke.
“I’m Sim Brown,” the coach said. “You can call me Coach. Now what do you see here, Tony.” He slapped his hand against the side wall.
“I see glass,” I said.
“No you don’t,” he answered. “You see through glass. You don’t see the glass. You could if you really focused on it, but for all your life, you’ve trained yourself to not notice glass. You see a window, you look through it. You don’t look at it. You can’t change what you see, Tony.”
“That’s the advice? I can’t see it so live with it?”
“No. You have to really not see it.”
I had to have looked a thousand questions at him. He chuckled.
“If your coach was here, she’d tell you this. There’s no way to explain it without being in the glass cage,” Sim said. “Lissa Grant is a fierce competitor. She wouldn’t have let you get this far if she thought you depended on the visual reference of walls to know where the ball is going. Think about what you see when you’re playing against her. When she serves to you, what do you see?”
“I see where the ball is going to be when I return it.”
“Yes! Thank god!” He sounded like I’d just solved the encryption code for the National Defense System and could abort the warheads. Play Tic-Tac-Toe, Joshua. “That’s what I mean by not seeing the walls. You have to forget about the walls, Tony. Play the ball where it’s going to be.” He slapped me on the shoulder, snatched the ball out of the air before Allison could serve to Karl again, and flipped it to me.
“Service!” he called and ushered Allison out of the cage.
I stepped into the service area with a new understanding. It didn’t have to do with the walls. It was all about where the ball would be when I wanted to hit it. I served two aces to Karl and when he tossed the ball back to me, I saw the grin on his face turn feral. Now, let’s play racquetball.
With the two-point lead, I traded points with Karl for the rest of the game and took it eleven-to-nine. The third game was what racquetball is all about. We were scoreless after fifteen minutes, and I was up seven-to-six when the coaches pounded on the door to tell us our time on the court was up. It didn’t count as a victory, but Karl shook my hand as we stepped off the court and a dozen camera flashes went off. There were easily fifty people watching our challenge match, but most of them were just watching Karl, I was sure.
I’d worked up a good sweat and Allison gave me instructions to shower, hot tub, shower again, and come through to the trainer’s room. When I did, she stretched me out on a table and gave my back and front a pounding like I’d never experienced on a massage table before. There wasn’t a hard muscle on my body when she was done with the massage.
Well… only one.
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