Chapter 2 #2
“All in all, not bad,” Dom said as the screen went black, “but it’s not nearly enough intensity.
Tomorrow, we’ll start a modified Canadian doubles.
You two against three of the guys. If it’s still too easy, you’ll be limited to the singles court.
If you want to make it through qualifying at Wimbledon together and then fight through the main doubles draw, this is the way. ”
“Qualifying?” Jasmine’s stomach sank.
“Sorry, ladies,” Dom said with a grimace.
“I got the heads-up on the wildcards from the Wimbledon officials. Neither of you made the cut. It’s bullshit.
Half the players they prioritized aren’t fit to carry your racket bags, but nothing we can do.
You’re going to have to do it the old-fashioned way and earn a spot in the qualifying tournament. ”
“And what if we don’t?” Indy asked.
“I’ve spoken to the tournament director at Crystal Palace. He’d be happy to have you both.”
Jasmine sighed.
Crystal Palace.
More like Consolation Prize.
It was the tournament that had popped up a couple of years ago as competition for tickets to Wimbledon became impossible.
Players who lost in qualifying or during the first week of the Championships could find a home there to play out the fortnight.
Still, it was a pro tournament on the same level as the one in Bari that Indy had won.
“Indy,” Dom said, already moving on. “I’ll see you later for your singles session, regular time. Jasmine, you want to start yours a bit early? This is Penny’s usual training slot, and three thousand miles is a long way to fly for a practice session, especially in a walking boot.”
Indy left, muttering about finding some food. Jasmine and Dom followed close behind.
“So, I guess my parents told you about the meeting today?” Jasmine asked as they matched strides toward her practice court.
“They mentioned they were bringing in a guy from an NIL management company. It’s a decent option, Jas.”
“It’s not what I want. You told me a while back that not everyone can be a great player, not everyone is meant to be in the top ten, win Grand Slams. Do you still believe I can do it?”
Dom stopped walking, considering the idea. “You tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it to my grave.”
Jasmine nodded for him to continue, desperately curious.
“I think that it doesn’t matter what I think.”
“What?” She’d never heard Dom admit that his opinion wasn’t the absolute final word on anything.
He let out a self-deprecating laugh and shrugged, but then turned serious.
“Listen, do your physical skills match up against the best in the world? No. They don’t.
You know that, Jasmine. Everyone knows that, but physical skills aren’t always what win matches.
You’ve got to decide if you’re willing to go through that, go into matches knowing that your opponents are better than you, knowing that if they play their best or even not quite their best, they’ll beat you.
You’ve got to decide if you love it enough to play even though you’re probably going to lose.
Some players can handle that. Some can’t.
You have to be mentally stronger than nearly everyone else.
You think Penny could handle that? Or Indy?
Or Alex? Or your father? They couldn’t, so you just have to be stronger than them.
If you think you can, if you think you can go out there and just play for the love of it, whatever the result, then tell the NIL guy to take a fucking hike. ”
Her breath caught as tears welled in her eyes. She swallowed back a lump in her throat, somehow through sheer force of will, keeping it from choking her, keeping those tears from falling.
It sounded tough, so much tougher than training her body to the limit and putting her heart and soul into the game, because if she did what Dom said, she’d have to surrender all the control to her opponent and the game itself. Could she do it? Did she even want to?
“And if I can’t?” she asked, the words no more than a whisper, afraid anything more would be too much and the floodgates would open.
“Then college is a great option. Four years, maybe three depending on how you progress physically and if you don’t mind leaving without a degree.
You’ll be away from home, away from the kind of pressure that comes with being John Randazzo and Lisa Vega’s kid around here.
College tennis is all about the team concept.
It’s fun, and you’ll get a great education.
And the NIL money you’d command would be impressive.
Then later, maybe you’ll have grown a little stronger physically, make the leap to the pros a little easier.
Why don’t you talk to Teddy about it? He made that choice a long time ago, and you two have always been close. ”
Jasmine toed some of the dirt that had escaped the planters lining the practice courts, the orange and white flowers brightening up the concrete-paved walkways. “We did, not that long ago. He said I should go to Duke with him.”
He had said a lot of other things, too, but Jasmine tried not to think about it, about him.
Teddy Harrison wasn’t important right now, at least not as anything more than her best friend.
She’d let her feelings for him cloud her judgment more than once.
She wasn’t going to make that same mistake again.
“At lunch today, Wolner was talking about Stanford and maybe Harvard or one of the other Ivies and basically the entire SEC and Big Ten.”
“Are you really considering it?” Dom asked, arching an eyebrow. “Hard to turn down schools like those.”
“I mean, I told him no, but I guess I have to consider it, don’t I?”
Dom hesitated and wiped a hand over his face before he said, “You should, Jasmine. I know you think it isn’t what you want, but how do you know that unless you find out more?
Explore it a little, give it a chance. It doesn’t mean it’s the right choice for you, just that it’s a choice and it would be foolish to dismiss it. ”
She wasn’t sure what to say. A warm hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed gently. Dom was rarely physically affectionate, so she gave him a small smile in return. “Thanks, Dom. I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Come on, let’s get on the court. Whatever you decide, you still need to train.”
“What are we working on today?” she asked.
“Full workout and then backhands, Jas. Backhands for the rest of your life. Whatever you decide, no coach in their right mind is going to let you get away with that thing you call a backhand.”
She groaned, but a smile crept through. There was the Dom she’d known her whole life, barking orders and not letting good enough ever be good enough. “I’m going to start having nightmares about backhands soon.”
“Good, maybe then you’ll keep your shoulder in.”
“Yeah, maybe.”