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“That would be a dream come true Marissa, but I have to take it one match at a time. It’s been my dream to have won all four of the slams, and I’m doing my best to make it a reality.”
“Thank you so much for dropping in today, Tyler. Best of luck in Rome.” She shook his hand.
“Thanks Marissa, always a pleasure.”
Emm popped her head in the doorway.
“Is he done?” She asked.
“Yeah, he did great. He talked about you.” Aunt Dixie stood and stretched her arms over her head.
“Oh? I was pretty sure it would happen eventually. The girl thing, right?” She laughed.
“Yep, totally about you being a girl, like you have no idea what to do with a tennis racket. I thought Amelie took care of this shit. I guess it’s going to take a while longer.” Tina said, shaking her head.
“I’m off to meet Tyler at the practice courts. Unless something comes up, we should be back here by five.” Emm said. Tina walked over and kissed her on the cheek. She turned and waved to Chip and Dixie.
“I’m going to rest in my room.” She said, then closed the door behind her. Once Tina and Emm were gone, Dixie grabbed the room service menus off the table.
“Bet they don’t have fried chicken in Italy, do they?” She bitched, holding the menu close while trying to decipher the Italian words.
Chip leaned back in his chair and laughed. It was good to have her by his side again. Almost as good as being back home.
Almost.
The atmosphere surrounding the tournament was like nothing Chip had experienced so far. The Foro Italico was a stunning tennis complex. Deep red clay courts surrounded by massive trees, and the smell of insanely delicious food floated through the air. Players loved this tournament, because the crowds were notoriously passionate about the game, and the amenities were top notch. It was a celebration of a classic sport that Italians loved.
Tyler floated through the draw, astounding the sports world. If he’d been playing like his usual self, nobody would have batted an eyelash. His muscular body was made for grinding out wins on the dirt. No, what made everyone stand up and take notice was his new playing style. Emm’s coaching was becoming more evident, as his new style of play annihilated every opponent he faced.
Instead of hanging on the baseline like a typical clay court player, he was taking his chances at the net, sliding forward whenever he got the chance. This threw his opponents off balance, and halved the amount of time Tyler typically spent on court. He was by no means a serve and volley player, but he was not waiting for his opportunities either. Tyler created them, striking fear into the hearts of the other athletes.
He’d made it to the final, defeating two top-ten players ranked above him, and if he emerged victorious, he’d rise in the rankings to number eight in the world.
He’d fallen out of the top ten two years ago. The locker room and the media buzzed with speculation about his sudden good fortunes. In public, they attributed it to Emm, who was transforming Tyler from a defensive baseliner, into an offensive, all-court threat. In private, they sensed a new, clear-headed focus they’d never known Tyler Florman to possess.
Gone was the brooding, quiet champion who shunned the other players. Now a smile ruled in place of a frown, and he’d even been interacting with the crowds, becoming more of a showman. He used to jog straight off the court after a match, ignoring the audience. Now he was signing tennis balls and telling jokes to the crowds. The media and the audience ate it up, while the locker room simmered with fear and jealousy.
Chip’s first time in Italy was a blur of hotel rooms and restaurants. By his side, Aunt Dixie kept up a running commentary of gossip and biting observations that kept his anxieties at bay.
The crowd was tired of waiting, the final delayed by a light rain shower. Tyler told him before the match that the conditions were perfect for his game, and his opponent would hate it. Humid conditions made the court slower, and the ball heavier. Strong players like Tyler loved to hit a heavy ball, while Juan Flores, his Spanish opponent, hated it. He was a smaller man with lightning-quick reflexes. A dry, dusty court suited his game perfectly, making the ball faster. The two players hit the ball back and forth over the net, warming up for a few minutes before the match got under way.
“He’s never beaten Juan before.” Emm said quietly, the roar of the crowd threatening to drown her out. Her nerves were frayed. Despite Tyler’s success at the event so far, he’d come unglued earlier in the day. A good coach would help a player with their fitness, and strategy. A great coach did that, plus more. For two hours she reassured him, cajoling him to use his new arsenal of weapons. Now he had a smile glued to his face, appearing relaxed and open to the crowd, and dangerous to Juan.
“Why? What’s that little shit got that Tyler don’t?” Dixie asked.
“He’s fast. He grew up on clay courts, so he’s used to them. Tyler loves them, but like all American players, he grew up on hard courts, so he’s not used to them in the same way. Juan has always relied on Tyler being defensive, hanging around on the baseline. That’s not happening today.” She grinned.
“Tyler’s going to win.” Chip muttered. As soon as he did, the umpire called for the match to begin. Juan won the coin toss, and to the surprise of the audience, he elected to receive, instead of serving first.
“Why did he do that?” Chip asked Emm. She shrugged, then whispered her reply.
“He wants to throw Tyler off guard, do the unexpected. Juan knows he’s playing a different player, so he’ll do whatever he can do to throw his game off.”
Tyler opened the match with an ace. The crowd erupted, and the referee motioned for them to simmer down. Tyler’s face was blank. He tossed the ball in the air and hit a serve straight into Juan’s body, forcing an error. The crowd went wild. Their loyalties were with Tyler, a past champion here, and the darling of the tournament. On the third serve, Juan came to life, and hit a winner straight up the line. A roller coaster of a match commenced.
Though tennis was a sport Chip hadn’t paid much attention to prior to meeting Tyler, he was now becoming a fan. The complicated scoring, and the nuances of the different styles of play now seemed familiar to him.
Americans were familiar with team sports, baseball and football in particular. Tennis was an odd bird, in that it was an individual sport pitting man against man. Tyler and Juan were duking it out in a big way, and when Tyler lost the opening set 6-4, Chip’s stomach flipped. Tyler’s gaze met his for a second when he walked back to his chair during the brief break in play. Chip saw fear and determination in his eyes.
