Tennis Ace (4 page)

“Oh, sure, sure.” He patted his son’s shoulder. “But impressing that guy is really important. It’s amazing what Vince can
do for a young athlete.”

He laid his fork down and gripped Steve’s arm. “When I was your age, there was nothing like Vince’s school around, anywhere.
I mean, sure, there were coaches, and there were schools and camps you could go to, but Vince has taken it to a new level.
He has all these specialists working with him, people who give you advice on what to eat, what exercises help you, the best
shoes and rackets, you name it. And then the fact that people will know you worked with Vince — that matters, too. This’ll
give you a major boost.”

He let go of Steve’s arm and picked up his fork again.

“Good thing that Vince and I are buddies from way back,” he continued, punctuating his remark with a forkful of pasta, “or
you might not have been selected. Good as you are, Champ, you’d just be one of a hundred gifted kids, all hoping for a shot.
Now, you’re almost sure to make it, thanks to me.”

Steve sneaked a look at Ginny, who rolled her eyes at him. Steve just barely managed to keep himself from laughing.

“And, Champ, always keep this in mind: You
are
good. Take it from me, you have the total package. Your serve is lethal, and you can place it wherever you want. You’ve got
better coordination than any boy your age I’ve seen. Your foot speed is great, too. If you could just learn to concentrate
a little more, get your head completely into the game, there’d be no stopping you. I really think you have more going for
you than I did when I was young. Can you imagine being at the top of the heap? Playing all over the world, meeting the best,
becoming a star?”

“That’s … pretty exciting, Dad,” Steve said, toying with his mostly uneaten food. “I just get worried sometimes. I hope I
don’t disappoint you, that’s all.”

“How could you disappoint me?” His dad leaned forward. “Just knowing that you’re giving it a hundred and ten percent out there,
that’s good enough for me. And it’ll be good enough to succeed, too. I’m sure of it.”

“Dad,” said Ginny, “is there any chance that Vince could find room for
me
at his camp? I’d do anything
to work with him. It’d be great to spend the summer there. Could you ask him for me? Please?”

Mr. Greeley blinked in surprise and seemed stuck for a reply. But Mrs. Greeley, who had been silent this whole time, jumped
in first.

“Honey, I thought we talked about this. You need to go to summer school this year and work on your math. It’s your weakest
subject, and it’s so important these days.”

Ginny sighed. “Mom, I want to be a pro tennis player. And I think I can do it, too. I’m going to be the state champ of the
fourteen-and-unders. No one is going to beat me this year.”

Mrs. Greeley’s tone got firmer. “Ginny, tennis can wait. We agreed about this.”

“Yeah, but we had that talk before Vince showed up.” Ginny looked from one parent to the other. “Don’t you see? This changes
things. If I could be coached by Vince Marino, I might be ready for the pros real soon. School wouldn’t matter.
Math
wouldn’t matter. That’s what I want, more than anything else in the world. Mom? Dad?”

“What
I
see,” Mrs. Greeley answered, “is that you aren’t thinking straight about your future yet. You’re
absolutely sure you’ll be successful as a tennis player. But what if you’re not?”

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Mrs. Greeley went on. “I’m not doubting your talent, sweetie. Or your determination
— we all know you’ve got plenty of that. But there are a lot of talented young athletes out there who all want the same thing,
and all of them are sure they’ll be the one to do it — and most of them are wrong. Also, even if you’re the best tennis player
ever, you might get hurt and end your career that way. Look at what happened to your father. Luckily, he was smart enough
to stay in school.”

Mrs. Greeley took hold of one of Ginny’s hands.

“If you don’t succeed in tennis, and you’ve neglected your education, what will you do then? The world is a very tough place
for a young person without proper schooling.”

Ginny removed her hand, her face sullen. “I can always go back to school afterward. I may never get another chance to go to
Vince’s camp. This happens once in a lifetime.”

Mr. Greeley cleared his throat. “I think your mom
is right about this, sweetie. You need to stay in school, and you need to get your math up to speed.”

Ginny’s jaw was clenched. “Oh, sure.
I
have to worry about school, but
Steve
doesn’t have to.
He
can go to Florida if he wants. Thanks a lot.”

Steve felt awful, but he didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing.

Dinner finished in gloomy silence.

A
fter dinner, Steve found Ginny sitting alone in the dark in the backyard, staring up at the night sky. He sat down next to
her.

“Hi. Okay if I sit here?”

“It’s your house, too,” she muttered.

“Lighten up,” he said. “You know how I feel. I was hoping to spend the summer having some fun around here instead of playing
tennis thirty hours a day. And I know you’d love to go to Florida and come back ready for the pros.”

“But
noo-o-o-o
,” Ginny snarled. “I have to work on my
math
. Like
math
is really going to help me sharpen my game. The only math I care about is fifteen, thirty, forty, game.”

“Well,” — Steve sprawled on his back in the grass
next to his sister — “Mom’s just worried about what’d happen if you don’t make it to the pros.”

“I can’t think about that now,” Ginny said. “I have to think positive about tennis. You understand, don’t you?”

“Sure,” said Steve quickly.

“Well, you’re the only one in this family who does, then. Mom doesn’t think I can make it, and Dad is too wrapped up in your
game to have any time for mine.”

Steve sighed. “You’re not the only one with problems. You think I’m happy being the one Dad is always pushing? You think it’s
easy?”

Ginny reached over to pat her brother’s arm. “No, I know it’s not easy. But sooner or later, you know you’re going to have
to tell him the truth. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be.”

“I know,” admitted Steve. “But I don’t know how to do it. He’s going to be so unhappy.” He sighed. “I just can’t, not yet.
It’ll be as if I insulted him or something.”

Ginny sat up. “You don’t have to say you don’t want to play tennis, period. Just say you’re still not
sure you want to be a pro. That way, he can still hope you’ll come around to see things his way. And who knows, maybe you
will, someday.”

Steve brightened. “Yeah, you’re right. If I just say I need more time, he probably wouldn’t be totally disappointed. That’s
what I should do.”

“Hey, if you tell him that, maybe Dad will pay more attention to
me
,” Ginny said. “Maybe he’ll go to work to persuade Mom and Vince that I should go to tennis camp this summer and work on math
another time.” She grabbed Steve’s hand. “
Would
you? Will you talk to Dad and maybe put in a good word for me while you’re doing it?”

Steve hesitated. “I … yeah, I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him that I’m not ready yet, that I need a little more time before
I can —”

“Hey, Champ, Gin, it’s getting late.” Their father stood behind them by the back door. Steve wondered how much of the conversation
he had overheard.

But if Mr. Greeley had heard anything, he gave no sign of it. “You both have important matches tomorrow and you need your
rest. How about turning in?”

“Sure, Dad,” Ginny said as she scrambled to her
feet. “By the way, Dad, there’s something Steve needs to talk to you about. Right, Steve?”

“What’s on your mind, Champ?” asked their father.

Steve suddenly felt tongue-tied. He couldn’t think of a word to say. “Uh … nothing, Dad. It’ll keep.”

“
Steve!
” whispered Ginny, with a pleading expression on her face.

“Not now,” Steve replied. “I feel really tired, and I better get to sleep.”

He hurried inside, not wanting to face Ginny. He knew she was mad, and he felt guilty, as though he had betrayed her. But
if he was going to tell his father the truth, he wanted to do it his own way.

He
would
. He had to. And soon.

W
hen Steve poked his head out the window the following morning, he was relieved to find that the weather had cooled down. It
was a great day for tennis, and he was actually looking forward to the semifinal match.

His mood dampened a little at breakfast. Ginny wouldn’t look at him, and he knew that she was angry with him for not speaking
up to their father the night before.

“Gin?” he said. She stared straight ahead as if he hadn’t spoken. “Listen, I’m really sorry about last night, but, hey, I
know
I said I’d tell Dad I wasn’t sure about a tennis career, but it … didn’t seem like the right time.”

“The
right time
?” She sneered at him as she
echoed his words. “Face it, bro, you just chickened out. I think there’s never going to be a right time.”

“That’s not so!” Steve’s face felt hot, and he knew it was beet-red, which happened when he got mad or embarrassed. “I
am
going to tell him, and real soon. I just … need a little time to figure out what to say. But I’ll do it.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ginny said; slamming her juice glass down in front of her.

“Morning, all,” said Mr. Greeley, smiling as he sat down at the table. Steve and Ginny muttered their greetings. Their father
gave no sign of being aware of the tension in the air.

“Looks like a perfect day for tennis,” he said. “Is everybody ready to go?”

Both his children nodded, and he seemed satisfied.

“Great, great. Ginny, who are you playing in the semis?”

“Maddy Stern. She can be a little troublesome,” she said. “I was thinking I’d use my topspin serve on her right from the start.
What do you think?”

“Hmm, I don’t think I know your opponent. But
I’m sure you know the best way to beat her.” He gave Ginny a smile, then turned to Steve. “You’ll be playing Darren Poole.
He’s going to be a challenge, a lot more trouble than Charlie Silver was yesterday. You’d better be ready.”

Steve chewed on a slice of toast, trying not to see Ginny’s unhappy look at the way their father had brushed her aside. “I’ll
be ready. It’s a nicer day, and I got my rest.”

“Darren is almost six feet tall, with those long arms, and he has a cannon serve, remember.”

“Sure, I remember,” Steve said.

Mr. Greeley buttered toast. “How do you deal with that big serve?”

“I back off the baseline. I try to meet the ball and not kill it.” Steve drummed his fingers on the table, wishing they could
leave so he wouldn’t have to see Ginny glaring at him.

“You can win, Champ.” He gave his son a tap on the shoulder. “But you’ll have to play better than yesterday. Remember, Vince
will be watching and you need to look good.”

Ginny leaned forward toward her father. “Will Vince watch my match, too?”

Mr. Greeley looked surprised. “I don’t know, hon. He said he would, but he might have other players to check out.”

“But you could get him to watch Ginny, couldn’t you, Dad?” asked Steve.

Mr. Greeley frowned. “I thought we agreed that Ginny will go to summer school this year.”

“
I
didn’t agree to anything,” Ginny snapped. “You and Mom —”

Steve cut her off. “Even if Ginny goes to summer school this year, Vince should look at her, Dad. There’ll always be next
summer. Ginny wants to work with Vince. Why not have Vince see what she can do, so he’ll keep her in mind for next year?”

His father chewed his toast thoughtfully. “Okay. I’m not making any promises, but —”

Ginny flashed Steve a grateful smile. “Thanks, Dad! That’ll be great!”

Steve was happy to see that everything was all right between him and Ginny. Now he could concentrate on his game.

Half an hour later, he was trying to do just that. He agreed with his dad about one thing. It was a perfect day for tennis:
mild and sunny, with a slight
breeze. As he took the court with Darren Poole, Steve went over his plan for beating the other boy.

Darren was a tough competitor who never gave up. He was four inches taller and his long arms gave him a greater reach and
a whiplike serve. When he came to the net, his reach made it hard to get a passing shot by him.

Steve had faster reflexes, though, and Darren could be forced into errors if he was run around a lot. But Darren had won two
out of their three previous matches. Steve knew he had to win, not just to even that score, but to advance to the finals.

Darren had won the racquet spin to serve first. Just as the game began, Steve glanced at the stands. He spotted his father,
mother, and sister sitting halfway up in the stands. Vince sat with them, wearing his mirrored sunglasses. Off to one side
sat Pat Carbo.

Darren took the first game easily. His sizzling serves caught the corners and Steve couldn’t return them solidly.

On his own first serve Steve charged the net but mis-hit a volley, sending the ball out of bounds and giving Darren a love—fifteen
lead.

His next serve was an ace — a beautiful topspin that Darren sprawled after but couldn’t get his racket on. Steve stayed on
the baseline for the rest of the game, forcing the taller boy into errors with a relentless ground game. Darren was puffing
a little after Steve’s game point.

Steve glanced up into the stands again. His father was grinning broadly and talking eagerly to Vince, who nodded. Ginny and
his mom clapped and gave him the thumbs-up sign.

Both players held serve for the next six games. Steve had one chance to break Darren, but he messed up a volley, hitting what
should have been a winner past the baseline.

With the first set at four games apiece, Darren hit a few poor first serves. On one, Steve made a perfect return to Darren’s
backhand. He put away Darren’s weak return shot to make the score love—fifteen. When Darren came to the net on the next point,
Steve crossed him up with a shot to his forehand side that Darren couldn’t get to.