Five

IN THE MORNING, Allison was all business, and she proved herself an efficient coach/manager. We were up early and headed for United Center where the Bulls play basketball and the Blackhawks play hockey. They bring in big boxes to set up each racquetball court complete with floor and ceiling. The one at center court was Plexiglass so spectators could sit around on three sides. The end wall was solid. With the seating pulled back to the hockey boundaries, there was room to set up twelve courts, plus an open area in the middle for the glass box. Tempe was great, but this was massive and unbelievable. Only half the courts were fully set and operational when we got there at half past eight and they were already full with athletes who were there early.

Registration went smoothly as far as I was concerned. Allison just told the person at the desk that Coach Grant was sick and she’d been sent by SCU to fill in for her. Since racquetball is a club sport and not an official NCAA sport, there’s no clear demarcation about who is and isn’t qualified to be a coach. I could have brought Mr. Miyagi. In addition to the rigidly set times on the official courts, six local athletic clubs had facilities available for practice and even some matches. With more than 350 competitors in town, court time was at a premium. The practice schedule was already set and we discovered my court reservation was not only at a club miles away, it was twenty minutes ago.

Then I saw Allison go into action.

“This is not acceptable. You can’t assign a practice session before registration opens in the morning.”

“All the athletes currently on the courts had practice before registration opened. We just got them in and they register afterward.”

“And how did they know to be here at that time?”

“They were all notified.”

“Tony Ames was not notified.”

“We sent the information to his coach.”

“His coach is ill.”

“Not our problem.”

“Do you know who his coach is?” That stopped the conversation. The registration person shuffled through the papers.

“Someone named Lissa Grant,” the woman said. She looked blankly at Allison.

“Would you please call someone to the registration table who knows racquetball?” Allison said coolly.

“There’s really no need,” the woman answered. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“I’ll call the tournament director then. I have his private number,” Allison said, pulling out her cell phone. “Unless you can get someone over here with some authority.” The woman looked at Allison carefully and got up from the desk. She was out of her depth and knew it. They didn’t hire her to deal with this kind of crap. She was only supposed to take names and issue credentials.

“I’ll go get my supervisor,” she said as she left.

“Tony! How are you, man?”

I turned around to see who in the world would know I even existed. I found myself face-to-face with Karl Higgendorfer, the reigning A-division champ.

“Oh ... hey, Karl. Good to see you.” We shook hands. We hadn’t said much to each other in Tempe and I was surprised that he even recognized me here.

“You getting ready for your practice court?”

“Trying. They tell me my practice court is in someplace called Cicero and it was twenty minutes ago,” I said, trying to make light of it.

“No way! Is the Ice Queen with you? She’ll rip them a new one,” Karl laughed.

“Unfortunately she’s sick, but Allison’s doing a damn good job on my behalf.”

Karl looked around me and noticed Allison for the first time. They held each other’s eyes for a moment and I could see Allison fighting not to smile at Karl.

“Al-li-son?” he drew her name out emphasizing every syllable. “What have you got yourself into?”

“Hey Karl. I’m substitute Ice Queen today,” Allison answered. She was no longer able to hold back the smile and stepped up to Karl. They hugged like old friends.

“Tony, I heard it was this girl who got you in trouble in Tempe. You trust her here?” Karl asked.

“We’ve gotten to know each other a little better since Tempe,” I said. “Lissa picked her to chaperone me in Chicago.”

The registration lady was back with an official looking guy in a sports coat and open collared blue shirt. He had a tag on that said STAFF. He pulled us aside and Karl stepped up to the table to register.

“I’m sorry,” STAFF said. “I don’t know how this could have happened, except that Tony is unseeded and it’s pretty automatic to send them to the furthest clubs. We sent Ms. Grant an email on Saturday telling her to take her athlete directly to the club and just give his name for admission.”

Allison explained that Lissa had been sick and unable to look at email over the weekend. My phone vibrated as Allison was explaining and, appropriately enough, it was a message from Lissa. It just said, “Sick sick sick. Glad you aren’t here!” I showed it to Allison and she turned it so STAFF could see it.

“Please express my sympathy and good wishes to Ms. Grant,” he said. “Let me see what I can find later in the day. We may have had a cancellation or a late flight. This will take me a few minutes.” We nodded and I turned around to almost plow into Karl.

“I’ve got an idea,” Karl said, “if you guys don’t mind. I heard what happened. I’ve got court time for an hour at eleven. Why don’t you join me?” I looked at him blankly.

“Me?” I squeaked. Karl laughed at me and turned to Allison.

“Ms. Perkins, I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t get to play against your boy here in Tempe. I’ve beaten Rob Snyder every time we’ve met. While I was watching Tony play in the semis I thought sure I was going to get some fresh meat for the finals. Really a tough break with the ankle.” He turned to me. “Fully recovered?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “I’m taping, but it’s pretty solid.”

“Then how about a pre-tournament match-up?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Why would you want to play me?”

“Well, I’ve got reasons, and—no offense intended—it’s not likely that we’ll meet in this tournament. If we both win every match, it would be the fifth round before we meet according to the brackets. If one of us drops to the lower bracket, there’s no telling if we’d meet before finals. I’d like to find out what I missed out on in Tempe,” Karl explained.

“Karl?” Allison looked at him and dragged him away, just snapping at me to “stay!”