Six

TEMPE WAS AWESOME—awesomely hot! It was close to ninety degrees when we landed and it was not going down. Fortunately, every place we went was air conditioned. Unfortunately, it was a real shock to walk into a cold room after being in the heat. I spent my time alternately sweating and shivering. We checked into our hotel and I was pleased that Lissa and I were next door to each other, though there wasn’t a connecting door like I’d hoped. I was wound so tight by the time we’d tossed our bags in the rooms that I was bouncing around and just wished she’d hold me before I exploded.

But Lissa was all business. She told me to change into my workout clothes and my school warmups, bring my court shoes and be ready in ten minutes. I did as ordered, and was ready when she knocked on my door. We drove over to the University Student Recreation Complex and I was blown away. The place has thirteen racquetball courts! Number fourteen is configured for squash. As soon as we signed in, I was assigned a court time for practice. We got our credentials and headed for our court. A guy smaller than me was running around the court chasing his coach’s serves. We watched and Lissa gave me a running commentary on what she saw. It helped me get focused. I was bouncing again when Lissa pounded on the court door at the stroke of the hour.

Lissa got me settled down pretty good. We worked up from basic exercises to a short scrimmage so we could get loosened up. It was only thirty minutes, but by the time we were finished I was more relaxed than I’d been all day.

There was a huge dinner that evening for all the coaches and competitors. There were thirty men’s singles competitors in the Gold Division that I’d play in, but there were around two hundred total competitors in the various divisions with men, women, and doubles, gold, blue, red, and white. The schedule was packed. My first round on Wednesday morning would be at nine. It was a double elimination tournament, so there would be eight matches on eight different courts at the same time. The other five courts would be used for warm-ups and training. I would be on court four facing a guy from LSU. After the first flight of men’s singles, there’d be a women’s flight and a doubles flight, then the second first round flight would go. The winners of the first flight would take on the next eight players.

Friday afternoon at 4:30, sixteen losers would play to see which eight players would be the first ones eliminated. I just didn’t want to be in that group.

Lissa and I went back to our rooms and I lay in bed texting Melody for an hour. Then Melody and I got to texting Lissa and she laughed about us being next door and told me to go to sleep. I sent an “I love you” message to both girls and eventually dozed off.

Yanni, Live at the Acropolis. I’m embarrassed to say I even have the piece, but it was my dad’s from someplace back at the dawning of the Age of Aquarius and I liked the energy. It blocked everything else around me out as I stretched and warmed up. Lissa tapped me on the shoulder and I pulled the headset off as the announcer was giving the pairings for the first round. I got the first look at my opponent.

Shit!

The guy reminded me of Rod at the club. He had a good six or eight inches on me and arms like an orangutan. All he had to do was stand in the middle of the court and he could reach anything. He won the toss and served first. The game was on.

The less time I spend talking about this match, the better. His first serve came skidding down the right wall and he was only barely out of the way far enough to keep from being called for a hinder fault. It went downhill from there. It’s not that I didn’t score, but I couldn’t hold a rally against him. I lost in two straight games and was one of the first losers on the board. Thank god, it’s double elimination. Every player is guaranteed at least two matches. There were other matches going on, but I was done until the first elimination round at 4:30.

“Hey. Go watch the cute girls play in the next flight,” Lissa said. “Don’t be upset. It’s your first collegiate tournament.”

“But Lissa, if I don’t do well, they’ll take my scholarship away.” God! I sound like a whiny baby. I just didn’t want to be embarrassed when we went back home. I imagined that everything good that had happened to me in the last month would suddenly evaporate. And I’d already started concocting a fantasy about coming home with a medal and invitation to the National Singles Tournament.

“Who told you that?”

“I just assumed. They give me an athletic scholarship, they expect me to perform, you know?”

“Tony, nobody is judging you by your first college tournament. Be realistic. You’re a freshman. The guy who just beat you is a senior and is seeded fourth in the country. It was a bad draw. Relax.”

I could think of one great way to relax, but she shoved me toward the bleachers and I plopped down to watch the women’s first flight. I just stayed in front of the same court I’d played on. I pulled a sketchbook out of my bag and a piece of charcoal. I caught a couple people in the crowd who held still for a few minutes while they talked and I quickly sketched them. I flipped to another page.

Sketching action is difficult. You have to put your brain where the action is and freeze the scene in your mind. Then you’ve got about thirty seconds to draw before the scene evaporates and you have to pick a new one. We used to do exercises back in high school. Ms. Stone had us go to various events and we had to come back with at least three sketches of what went on. I’d sketched basketball games, school plays, the PTA meeting, and a horse show. Now that one was a challenge. Nothing like sketching a horse turning barrels. The trick was to ignore any of the extraneous stuff like shadows, saddles, and costumes. You had to just focus on the line of action. I started sketching the girls as they played.

I put down half a dozen sketches and moved to the next court. I had a soundtrack from Cirque du Soleil’s Allegria playing in my ears as I spent an hour just plopping down in front of each court, making half a dozen quick action sketches, and then moving on. By noon, I’d sketched some of the doubles and was ready to work on the second flight of men. Lissa brought me a sandwich and a cup of coffee and stayed as we ate. She didn’t say much, but looked through my sketches, occasionally making a comment on one of the competitors.

Everything was about racquetball. We were in an incredible sports facility. I was watching people play. I was even occasionally cheering a great shot. But I wasn’t thinking about playing racquetball. With my sketchbook and charcoal in hand, I was able to separate myself from the game. When the second flight of men’s singles started, I parked myself in front of court eight to watch most of the match. I’d be playing the loser of this match in a few hours. I sketched the two guys as they went back and forth. They were beautiful. I was way into Deep Forest when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I pulled my headset off and turned to see a tall brunette with flashing eyes and a great figure smiling at me. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her brown eyes looked like they went down into some shadowy depth that mere humans couldn’t fathom.