Chapter 24 Elias #2
But I can’t think about that right now. My mind needs to be on the upcoming match.
I try to focus on my surroundings instead as we warm up.
The pristine blue courts that look exactly like the courts at Princeton, except for the surrounding palm trees and the mountains in the distance.
That’s testament to the elite facilities the school is providing us with.
I zone in on that. On how lucky I am to be here as it is.
A tall, stately man with grey hair and dressed in sponsored tennis gear finds his seat in the stands. When he looks up, he seems pleased with himself, happy to be here, eager to watch some tennis.
“Is that Richard Kingsley?” Ben whispers in my ear.
I nod, unable to speak.
I catch Kingsley clap as we’re announced on the court while the umpire says, “From Princeton University, representing the Ivy League, Elias Liebrenz and Benjamin Harris.”
I adjust the sweatbands on my wrists before jogging out to meet our opponents.
I’m still having a hard time talking, so Ben chooses what we’ll be in the coin toss.
We lose, and I’m actually grateful I won’t be expected to serve yet.
It gives me time to adjust. To block out the fact that the Richard Kingsley is watching my match.
That there is the possibility he may see potential in me, want to work with me.
When I’d considered catching the eye of a pro coach, I’d never allow myself to dream it would be him.
I’m a little tight at first, but luckily Ben picks up the slack until I can relax into our usual rhythm.
The fun we’ve been having playing tennis together quickly evaporates with the seriousness of the situation. This is no longer a drill. There’s too much at stake to relax and have fun. Playing well is all that counts right now.
I can see the stress in Ben’s face between points, like he’s trying his best, for me. To help me impress Kingsley. He’s helping me abandon him and the team, because it’s what I want.
The match goes by in a blur. We wipe the floor with the University of Texas and win a point for the team, taking us one step closer to advancing into the next round.
The doubles point is good, but it’s my singles match Kingsley will be most interested in.
I try to focus while Nate plays his match, but I can practically feel the legendary tennis coach’s presence behind me in the stands.
Was he impressed? Did I do enough? I still have more time to make an impression.
I just hope he doesn’t leave before it’s time to play my match.
Ben is up next. He has a tough match against an opponent I realize I’ve been too distracted to research. I studied my own opponent last night before I went to sleep, but I didn’t have time to look at everyone.
Ben holds his own against Texas’ player, winning the match 6-4, 7-5.
Up in the stands, Richard Kingsley is on his feet, clapping.
I check to make sure he’s still there as I walk back onto the court to play my singles match. He takes his seat and gets ready to watch as I step up to shake my opponent’s hand.
I play well. Not the best I’ve ever played, but good enough—I hope—to give Kingsley a taste of what I can do. If he researched me beforehand, he should know that I have even more in the tank. That I haven’t even come close to reaching my potential yet, but it’s there.
I beat Texas’ player 7-5, 6-4 after a messy scrap. As soon as my match is over, Kingsley gets up to leave. I hold my breath, sweat trickling down my face. That’s a good sign, right?
We win the match against Texas 6-1. Poor Travis is the only player on the team who lost. I overhear Archer sharing his suspicion that Travis got in his head about having to play the team he grew up admiring in his home state.
My phone starts ringing when we’re on our way to dinner before the next round of the tournament. I excuse myself to go and answer. It’s Papa.
I hesitate, staring at his name on my phone, but I know I have to pick up at some point.
“Finally!” he says. “It’s so hard to reach you these days. How are you? How’s Indian Wells?”
I take a deep breath and smile, so he can hear it in my voice. “It’s amazing. You should see it here.”
“Take plenty of pictures for your sister, she can’t stop talking about you being in Palm Springs. She’s acting like you’re some sort of celebrity.”
He says that like it’ll never happen. No. I’m being paranoid. He’s just making a joke.
“Speaking of celebrities …” My mouth gets dry as I try to say the words.
Why am I telling him this? There’s no guarantee Kingsley was impressed by me.
I just want to show my father that this is a real thing.
That people really do care about college tennis.
That I made the right decision in coming here after all. That maybe he was wrong.
“Richard Kingsley was at the match today.”
“Your match?”
“Yes, Papa. The team beat the University of Texas 6-1.”
“Congratulations! Did you win your singles match?”
Why does he automatically assume I’m the player who lost?
“Yes. I won the doubles and the singles matches I played.”
“Doubles? Doubles isn’t usually your strong suit.”
I grit my teeth, the smile feeling more strained now. “I know, but I’ve worked on it, and I have a great doubles partner.”
“I’m proud of you,” he says. There’s no sarcasm, no hint of something else behind it. He genuinely does sound proud of me.
“Thank you.”
“Is Kingsley still hanging around?”
“I have no idea.”
“Go and find out. You have more rounds to play, right?”
“Yes, we play San Diego next.”
“Do whatever you can to catch his attention. You have to stand out. Don’t let anyone steal your limelight. You’ve worked so hard for this, and unlike your teammates, you’re not at Princeton to get an education. Let them have their books. Tennis is yours.”
“Yes, Papa.”
I put the phone down, feeling pumped, but … a little gross. My father is right, though. I’m the only person on this team who needs a pro coach to notice me.
I head back to the restaurant where the team are all gathered around some tables. Ben has saved me a chair.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
BEN
Elias is quiet during dinner, and though I know it’s a bad idea, I’m disappointed he doesn’t suggest sneaking into my room tonight. I’d be happy to even snuggle. But I know I’m hard work to sleep with. I want him to get his rest.
If we beat San Diego this evening, we will be getting up early to practice, and if we lose, we’ll be getting up early to catch a plane back to the East Coast.
One thing I’ve missed since being at college is travelling.
Living in Switzerland during the school year wasn’t always a picnic, but I did like being around people of different cultures, and different languages.
I meant it when I told Elias I’ve forgotten most of the Swiss French I learned in school.
And that’s just sad. But I’d like to pick it up again, or another language …
German, maybe? I’m looking forward to meeting new people and travelling all over the world after graduation.
There’s a part of me that imagines Elias being there. Why can’t we cross paths while we’re both on the tour? Why can’t we be together while he plays and I scout?
I put the thought out of my head before we go out to play our match against San Diego.
Kingsley is nowhere to be seen. I try to gage Elias’ reaction, but he’s closed down.
He’s a tennis machine now. That soft part of his personality he doesn’t let everyone see is all shuttered up behind impenetrable walls.
Even after winning the match comfortably, he seems tense. Is he disappointed that a pro coach came and left without snapping him up? I want to tell him there will be other coaches, but I don’t think he’s in the right mental space to deal with it.