CHAPTER 21 #2
I’m breathing hard by the end, sweat dripping down my green tennis dress.
We’re down one point. If Joaquin and Anika win the next one, they win the whole event.
It’s my serve. I eye them from across the net, pondering where to send my serve.
Aurelio, positioned up front to my left, flashes the T signal behind his back.
I nod in confirmation, thinking the same thing.
Anika, who’s returning my serve, has historically struggled against a fast serve right down the middle.
I take a deep breath, letting the moment soak in.
I want to remember the crowd, the lights, Aurelio in matching green at my side, the tennis ball in my hand. I can do this.
My first serve goes straight into the net. I take another deep breath. I bounce the ball three more times at my feet. Aurelio looks at me over his shoulder, eyes shining with love and encouragement.
I toss the ball in the air again. It goes into the net again.
The crowd groans at the anticlimactic ending.
Anika and Joaquin embrace, grinning ear to ear.
I’m frozen, staring at the spot where my serve double faulted, where I lost us the match.
It all feels eerily familiar. Too familiar.
Have I really changed at all? Am I doomed to be a loser forever, just as Beck said I would be?
Everything feels far away, fuzzy and scratchy in my brain.
A hand touches my shoulder. I look up into Aurelio’s beautiful brown eyes. “We did great,” he tells me, voice low. He seems to forget we’re wearing microphones. “You did great, Amy.”
The fuzziness fades and the clarity returns.
I won two matches before this, and played a close match against the favorites, and all I can think about is that fateful serve.
That’s what Beck would focus on, the moment that stopped me from being a champion.
I have changed, because the old me would have agreed with him.
And isn’t it more powerful to believe in Aurelio?
I wrap an arm around his waist. His comes over my shoulders, squeezing gently. “You’re right,” I said. “Let’s go congratulate the new champions.”
We walk over to Joaquin and Anika at the net. Anika looks at me nervously. I smile at her. “Congratulations, you guys,” I say. “You deserve it.”
Anika’s nervousness dissolves. “I just beat the Amy Bowman,” she squeals, jumping up and down. “I never thought it would happen!”
I laugh, and so does the crowd. We exchange quick hugs and handshakes before we’re ushered to a post-match interview.
Joaquin and Anika go first, their enthusiasm and passion charming the crowd immediately.
When the tournament organizer hands them the trophy, conveniently made out of tennis balls, they hoist it into the air to applause from the crowd.
Aurelio and I lean against each other as we watch.
Finally, Chris McKendry, ESPN’s veteran reporter, turns our way. “Aurelio and Amy,” she says warmly. We walk into the frame of the cameras. “Congratulations on such a great tournament.”
“We’re very happy to be included,” Aurelio says, eyes on the crowd. “It was an honor to play against so many greats.” His gaze turns to me, openly affectionate. “And with my favorite person in the world.”
I wave off his compliments. “I paid him to say that.” The crowd chuckles.
Chris looks at us knowingly. “It’s your first time playing doubles, Amy. Is there anything you learned from playing with Aurelio?”
I should tell another joke, I know. But for some reason, I’m reminded of Aurelio’s Wimbledon speech.
“On days like this,” I explain, “I’m reminded of why I love tennis.
I loved hearing the fans get loud, I loved playing under the lights, I loved looking over and seeing Aurelio on the court with me.
” I glance at him. “I want more days like this, and I think if I stick with Aurelio, I’ll get them.
I’m just lucky that he chose me to be his partner. ”
Aurelio doesn’t say anything but reaches over and takes my sweaty hand. The crowd watches us with interest.
Chris doesn’t beat around the bush. “Is it safe to say you’re also partners off the court?”
The crowd titters, eager to hear what we’re going to say. Aurelio looks at me with a question in his expression. I smile in answer. “We are,” Aurelio answers, grin growing at the happy applause from the crowd.
Chris is delighted by our answer. “That’s wonderful!
” she gushes. “It must be a relief to be with someone who understands the sacrifice and dedication required to be a high-level athlete. We’re so happy for you both.
” She leans closer, conspiratorial. There’s a gleam in her eye.
“But I think we all want to know: Who’s the better tennis player? ”
Aurelio shakes his head. “Are you trying to get me in trouble, Chris?”
I turn towards him, a smile twitching on my lips.
“No, no, I think we should test it out.” Chris raises a curious brow at me, wondering what I’m thinking.
I turn to Anika and Joaquin, who stand a few feet away, admiring their trophy.
“Hey, Anika!” I call to her. Her head snaps up in surprise.
“Do you want to play with me? Show these boys how it’s done? ”
Her face lights up. “Let me get my racket!”
I turn back to Aurelio. “What do you think, Aurelio? Are you up for one more round?”
He taps his chin, thinking. “For love of the game?” he asks, sticking out his hand for me to shake.
“For love of the game,” I confirm, shaking his hand.
We run back onto the court to screams of excitement at the extra show. “My serve first!” I call to Aurelio and a bewildered-looking Joaquin.
“Of course it is!” he calls back, grinning.
Anika and I high five as I pass her to stand on the baseline. Aurelio gets into his return stance, ready for me to give him the heat.
I don’t hold back my love for tennis, just like Aurelio taught me. The ball slams across the net at a blistering 122 miles per hour. Aurelio hustles to return it, sending it back to our side.
We don’t keep points that match, but we do play.
For love of the game.
*
The next morning, I meet my new coach for the first time. Aurelio begged to come with me, even if it makes him a few minutes late to his own practice. I’m almost as starstruck as he is when I meet her, though I probably hide it better. Aurelio’s mouth falls open as we walk over to her and Vince.
“Hi, Barbara.” I smile. “Thank you so much for giving me a chance. I’m Amy Bowman.” Aurelio’s practically vibrating with excitement at my side. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, instead saying politely, “And this is my boyfriend, Aurelio Santoro.”
Barbara’s eyes dart between the two of us with amusement.
“Nice to meet you both,” she says sincerely, shaking our hands.
I have a vague memory of meeting Barbara as a child.
She was the number one player on the women’s side at the same time Beck was on the men’s.
But since she retired almost 20 years ago, she’s stayed out of the spotlight.
Vince told me that she coached the women’s tennis team at Texas to three championships in the 2010s but hasn’t coached since.
There’s literally a statue of her outside Billie Jean King stadium in honor of her 22 Grand Slam wins.
Maybe that’s why Beck never let me watch her film, because he was jealous that she was the real tennis god(dess).
“How would you like to start?” I ask. “I can show you what I normally do for practice, if you’d like?” I try to hide my nerves from her. I doubt Barbara Dade ever got nervous playing in front of a potential coach. She knew the power she had.
“That works,” she agrees, adjusting her visor.
She’s dressed in casual clothes, a white tennis skirt and coral tank top.
Her braids have been pulled into a high topknot so her sensible visor can shield her eyes.
She looks like the Barbara Dade who won Slams, not the Barbara Dade who’s over 60 and hasn’t worked in 10 years.
“Sounds good!” I say too brightly. Barbara heads to the sideline to get a better view. I shoot Vince a pleading look, but he just smiles and follows his sister. I go to grab my racket but run into an Aurelio-sized wall. I put my hands on my hips. “Don’t you have practice, Aurelio?”
He snaps out of it, gaze transferring from Barbara to me. “That’s Barbara Dade,” he whispers in awe. “I can’t believe she’s going to be your coach.”
I grin. “I’m going to tell Antonio that you’re jealous.”
He shoots me a look. “You play dirty.”
I nudge him with my hip. “Go to practice! You’re already late.”