Love Game - Season 2011 (22 page)

              “I’m certain Parova would have been able to impose her Top 10 status if she stayed tight to Renard,” Hugh said into the microphone. “But this is a very comfortable lead for the young German, and even if she gets nervous she has two attempts to serve it out, and her service games have been almost flawless in the third set.”

              Sam nodded. “Tamara must pick up her game or this could be over in a few minutes.”

              With amazement they both had watched the German player go up 5-2 in the third set. Since her knee injury Elise Renard had struggled to string together more than two or three wins. The Australian summer had not been very successful for the friendly player. However, only a week ago Sam, Hugh and Paola had discussed the good performance of Elise Renard in Stuttgart. All of the German girls were doing great, most of all Carina Gnocchi, the world No. 1 with Italian roots and Angela Porovski, the second best player in the German team. With Stephanie Moeller and a regaining Elise Renard the German team had good chances to win the Fed Cup team competition in the following years. Watching Elise Renard come back so strong in her first Grand Slam main draw of this season was exciting.

              Walking to the baseline the German girl was cheered on by a loud and ongoing applause from the Parisian crowd.

              “This would be a great upset and definitely could give this year’s French Open a new twist. Renard has the chance to go really deep in this tournament and she’s on track to become the crowd favorite.”

              Sam agreed. The young player had shown the ability to capture the hearts of the otherwise often rude French audience. Even though she trained in Florida and Germany and was playing for the German Fed Cup team, it felt as if Elise Renard was playing on home turf. She was embraced by the French audience much more than Morgana Doré, who was French and a Top 10 player after all.

              Two brilliant serves gave Elise Renard a 30-0 lead in this important game. The next serve was deep into the corner but Tamara managed to get it back. After a few baseline shots Tamara hit a crosscourt forehand deep into the corner. Elise was running it down and was just about to hit the ball when all of a sudden her right knee buckled. For a second, Sam feared the young woman would fall to the ground but she only wobbled before stopping in her tracks and leaning heavily onto her racquet. The ball was gone and Tamara got ready again to receive another serve but Elise didn’t step to the baseline but instead carefully walked to her chair. A loud and terrified murmur ran through the stands. Everyone knew that the Elise had lost almost a whole season due to her knee injury.

              “She calls a trainer,” Hugh commented with a stern voice.

              “Hopefully it’s just a temporary fright,” Sam said into the microphone. “It would be a shame if she had to give up at this point.” But she feared the worst. What player would call a trainer being two points away from winning the match if it wasn’t serious?

              After an injury time-out in which she received a short examination and was bandaged to support the knee, Elise got up and made a few steps. Apparently she had no problem walking. In unison the spectators let out a loud sigh of relief as play continued. But after another rally it became clear that the German was unable to make quick steps from one side to another. She refrained from going into the corners and Tamara, who had nothing to lose but sensed a chance to break the young player began to hit the balls closer and closer to the lines. Elise got broken on her serve.

              “There’s obviously something wrong with her knee,” Sam said gravely. Even the crowd had gone silent in the last game. For the next twenty minutes the French audience had not much to cheer for. Tamara had picked up her game as well as her hopes to turn the match around and rigorously went for the lines.

              In the end it was Tamara who won the third set 6-4, winning five games in a row and therefore the match.

              “It’s really sad for Renard, who had worked so hard to get up two breaks in the third set,” Hugh said watching the players shake hands on the court. Elise went to her chair and sat down burying her head in the towel. She was crying.

              “Let’s just hope that it’s nothing serious and can be sorted out quickly.”

***

Even though their little secret pact seemed to be going smoothly, there was one moment when Luella thought that perhaps she should have played by the rules – when Gabriella lost while pretending to be her on court.

              A strong sentiment of injustice spread over her. This was not some piddling, little tournament. This was the French Open and Gabriella had screwed up during a Grand Slam while everyone thought that it was actually her, Luella, who had lost. There was nothing she could do about it. She had to accept the fact that Roland Garros was over for her this year. The only good thing was the fact that this was Paris, the shopping capital
par excellence
.

              Looking at herself in the mirror of the fitting room, Lulu pouted. The knee-length skirt suited her even though she was soon heading to England where an umbrella probably came in more handy than summer clothing. But why not go on a shopping spree? It was a harmless little pleasure that felt justifiable now that Gabriella had lost Lulu’s match. Other players indulged in chocolate, cake and whipped cream after a bad loss. Her perfect hips had to be grateful that she preferred bags and dresses. Putting her own clothes back on, she grabbed the skirt and quickly stepped out of the fitting room. 200 € was a bargain dutifully compensating for a Grand Slam defeat.

              As she left the fitting room, her eyes caught a figure quickly disappearing behind a mannequin. Only the straw hat and a glimpse of large sunglasses were visible. Luella rolled her eyes. Sasha was following her again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.               Not this time as she hadn’t gone to Les Champs Elysées like most of the players did but to La rue de Rivoli in the 4th
arrondissement
. The chances that she would find herself in the same store as Sasha were virtually nonexistent. However, the Czech was there, now pretending to look at jerseys. Why couldn’t she stop following Lulu and instead make believe a little more with her boyfriend? The Galloway knew the answer. Lulu was awesome and hot, and even though she wasn’t into girls at all, it flattered her that Sasha might have a crush on her. But the constant stalking was becoming slightly annoying to say the least.

              Holding back a sigh, Lulu turned her head only to notice someone else she knew. One of the photographers who were working for the WTA website was standing outside in the street, a camera in hand. His eyes were staring intently at Sasha. Now he was aiming the camera through the shop window. Luella quickly turned her head away pretending to go through some tops on a clothes rail. What exactly was going on here? Lulu bit her lower lip, trying to remember the guy’s name. Todd? Tim? Tom! It was Tom! Obviously he was on a secret mission and to Luella’s amusement he was failing to be invisible just as much as the Czech player he followed.

              “
C’est pour un cadeau?
”

              Not understanding a single word of what the salesgirl had told her, Lulu shook her head and handed her the skirt she intended to buy. Sasha was about to leave the store. Where was she going now? To hide behind a streetlamp? Luella paid and grabbed her bag.

              Sasha had positioned herself on the other side of the road, boiously waiting for Lulu to leave the store. Hiding behind a tree was Tom, observing Sasha. This couldn’t possibly be an official job assignment, Luella thought. Strolling down the street she sensed that Sasha and Tom were walking behind her. She put on her sunglasses and walked faster. If she was actually part of an absurd scenario where she was followed by a mad woman who was herself followed by a guy who clandestinely took photos of her, Lulu figured she could at least have a bit fun with them. With a big grin she headed for the Châtelet Metro station and took the next train to the red light district of Pigalle.

***

Where the hell could she get flowers now? She had never needed a flower bouquet before so Amanda had no idea if there even was a flower shop on the Roland Garros site. She was pretty sure there was none. So she made her way to the reception desk for players’ services.

              “Can you get me a flower bouquet?”

              The young woman behind the desk looked up discombobulated. Granted, Amanda usually asked for dinner reservations or room service chocolate or massage appointments or a private cab. Not flowers. After a short moment, however, the girl gave her a huge smile.

              “Sure, any specific flowers or color combinations?”

              Amanda hadn’t thought about that. The only flowers she could name were roses. But roses were a bit too much, she thought.

              “No, just a simple bouquet,” she told the young woman. “But I need it as soon as possible.”

              The young woman hesitated but then suddenly turned away and ducked down behind her desk. Within seconds she popped up again holding a spray of yellow flowers in hand.

              “Something like this?” She held out her hand and lowered her voice. “It’s a left-over from Yelena Kovalenko’s ex- boyfriend. She apparently dumped him this morning when he showed up after partying the whole night. She didn’t want the bouquet.”

              Amanda looked at the flowers. Should she take a used bouquet? But then she concluded that this was probably her best chance to get flowers. She nodded.

              “Yes, the bouquet looks lovely. Just put it on my bill!”

              “Oh, but it’s free. He just left it here. But if you like,” she said with a smile, “you can give me a recommendation. I just started working here in Roland Garros but I would love to work on the tour. My name is Alice.”

              “Sure,” Amanda answered. “I’d be happy to help you. You just saved my life!” She gave Alice a little wave with the yellow spray, then hurried outside of the administration area.

              The infirmary was located in the basement of Court Philippe Chatrier. Amanda hurried down the corridor clutching the flowers. She really hadn’t planned to watch the match. She had only tried to kill some time, since suddenly she had too much of it. She had gone out to the practice court after her loss, hitting a few hundred balls with Dan to let off steam, and then she had nothing to do.

              She thought she could watch some tennis instead and ended up in the stands of Elise’s match against Tamara. She was impressed by her young doubles partner. Elise really was a fine player. It was shocking to see her go down like that. But even worse was the fear of another serious injury. Worrying about Elise had completely taken Amanda’s mind off her own misery.

              Amanda knocked on the door of the players’ infirmary but didn’t wait for someone to open it. She slipped inside and closed the door again. In the next room Amanda could hear several people talking. There was Elise’s dad and probably a doctor inquiring about the injury and the pain, and then she could hear Elise’s voice.

              “I only felt a short pain when going for the ball. It didn’t come back again. It was all fine when the trainer came and checked the knee,” the German admitted meekly. “It was actually fine when I played, but I was so frightened that I might hurt it again that I didn’t go into the corners anymore.”

              Inside the room Elise started sobbing and the sound made Amanda miserable. Elise really seemed to have no luck. The doctor came out of the treatment room, and when he had left Amanda plucked up her courage and stepped into the room. Seeing her guest, Elise immediately sat straight up and wiped her tears away while Elise’s dad gave Amanda a friendly nod.

              “I heard what happened and thought I’d bring you some flowers,” Amanda said with a sheepish grin. She suddenly felt almost overdressed with the bouquet in her hand and quickly held out the flowers to Elise.

              “That’s sweet,” Elise said looking up to Amanda. “I already feel a lot better. It was nothing actually.”

              She gave her father a little nod and understanding the hint he left the room, announcing that he would wait outside.

              “Will you get an MRI?” Amanda sat down next to Elise.

              “Tomorrow,” she answered. “I already had an X-Ray. But there was nothing.” Looking down onto her feet she said quietly, “I didn’t lose because of the knee, you know? It gave me a fright, that’s true, but I got all tight in the end because I was so close and it would have been such a huge win.”

              Amanda knew the feeling. She suddenly felt like hugging this girl.

              “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

              Elise looked up in surprise.

              “Not with Dan though,” Amanda added with a shy grin. “I have been eating lamb for a whole week now. I thought we could go some other place instead. Just you and me.”

***

“How can you even eat this thing?”

Ted turned his head to Carina Gnocchi, who was sitting next to him.

              “This thing is
foie gras
,” he said, munching demonstratively on his food. “And it is delicious. Much better than having pizza for weeks.”

              Since Rome he had been able to avoid the tedious German, but today they were presented a preview of the commercial they did together before the French Open had started. The French Grand Slam had turned out to be a lot more relaxing for Ted, at least from a personal point of view. No need to juggle between his secret rendezvous with Tom and the official and boring photo shoots and interviews with Felicia. The Aussie singer was on tour, thankfully, and Ted was having a good time in Paris, spending the evenings with Tom.