Page 41 of Serve
Spots danced in front of his eyes. Suddenly he felt dizzy, unsteady on his feet.
Gustavo served an ace up the T, his first of the match. Tyler knew his lack of focus was the reason the ball made it past him. He stepped a foot back, wanting to give himself more room behind the baseline for the next serve. Gustavo tossed the ball in the air and hit it up the middle again. Tyler lunged for it, missing the ball entirely. Instead of landing on his feet, he collapsed to the court in a cloud of red dust.
Chapter Twenty
Chip- London
“I wish we’d gone home to Hidden Creek instead of recuperating in London.” Chip said to his aunt. Maybe he’d like it better if they’d had time to see the sights, but he’d been mostly stuck in their rental house.
“You and me both, but if you haven’t figured this out yet, Tyler is on a mission. He doesn’t care about anything but winning Wimbledon, and you, and I mentioned you second for a reason.” She patted him on the shoulder. They were strolling the paths of the cemetery behind the house they were renting. It was a dreary day, with gray skies and a light mist falling.
“There’s been a lot going on back home, and I miss my job.” He sighed. His friend Sheila routinely texted him about the emergencies she was called on, and he felt like his talents were being wasted here.
“You work your ass off every day dealing with that overgrown baby.” Aunt Dixie cracked. Chip’s mouth dropped open.
“Yes, you might love him, but seriously, Tyler is a big baby. All of these tennis stars are helpless without their assistants. We schedule everything for them, make sure their clothes are cleaned, book their flights, order their food. They do nothing but play tennis, which is why he pays us, so stop feeling guilty.”
The mist changed to rain, and Aunt Dixie elbowed him in the ribs so he’d open up his huge, black umbrella. Once it snapped open over the two of them, he spoke, “Has he had this problem before? You know, with anxiety?”
“All athletes have anxiety, but to the point of having a panic attack while playing? No, not that many do. Look, Tyler’s going to be fine. He couldn’t help what happened in Paris. Seeing Scott in the stands threw him for a loop, so he fainted. I think having his sports psychologist Grant fly over for a few days helped a lot.” She said.
“Yeah, I’m glad he came too. I try not to mention it to him, but when he fell to the court, I…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Dixie said nothing, just gripped his elbow tighter.
They’d been in London for three weeks now. During that time Tyler trained hard and had counseling sessions with Grant. Since he crashed out of the French Open early, he accepted a Wild Card to the Queen’s Club Tournament. A Wild Card was a special pass to play issued by the tournament to players who hadn’t signed up, but wanted to play at the last minute. Very few were given out, and it was a privilege to get one. Tyler hadn’t bothered to sign up to play Queen’s Club, because he thought he’d be taking this week off. It was played on a grass court, similar to Wimbledon’s. He hoped to get as much practice on grass as possible, to be match tough. It was his least favorite surface, yet he’d won the tournament, his very first grass-court trophy. It was all over the news, and everyone was excited about his chances of winning Wimbledon.
Chip wished he felt the same, but all he felt was fear. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of, yet dread filled him from the moment he woke up, until the moment he laid his head on the pillow. Chip did his best to keep it from Tyler, and his Aunt Dixie, who seemed to be psychic.
“You’ve been feeling down in the dumps lately. You should be excited, because if he wins this thing, he’s done. He’s retiring, and you two can head on home to Hidden Creek and not worry about Scott, or the crazy paparazzi any more.” She said, reading his mood.
“Oh God, them. I found a dude digging through the trash can yesterday. Did I tell you about that?” He said, awed by their audacity. She nodded. He’d mentioned it at least ten times since it happened. Nothing in the world would prepare you for the British press. After that incident, security guards were hired to patrol the rental property. They’d rented a house instead of staying at a hotel, since they were going to be in London for over a month.
If Tyler kept winning, that was.
“You know, I don’t think I can go on much longer like this.” Chip murmured. Aunt Dixie nodded her head for him to continue.
“I want him to win everything. I want him to be happy. But…” His voice broke. She looked up and saw him wiping tears from his eyes.
“Go on, I’m listening, Chip.” She gripped his arm and steered them back toward the cemetery gates.
“I’m losing my mind, not because I feel useless, or any other reason I’ve given. It’s because I’m no good at being a secret. Being on the front page is like a nightmare to me, so it’s not like I want to be in a spotlight. I just hate being, I don’t know, unacknowledged? Is that the right word?” He asked. She nodded.
“When he was taken to the hospital in Paris, Sania did everything she could to keep me away from him. I know why she did it, and I know she wasn’t doing it to be deliberately cruel, but still, it hurt. I’m not just his personal assistant, but I couldn’t tell anyone that.” He choked out.
Aunt Dixie thought for a moment, then spoke, “Chip, you and Tyler are like my own children. I love you both. He’s under a lot of pressure to stay closeted. It’s not just the money, it’s getting equal treatment from the other players. That’s how he sees it. Personally, I think we’ve hit a period of time where he’ll be fine being out in the open. I think if he were a new player, just starting his career, this would be very different, but he’s a veteran who was told from day one to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to be a success. It’s hard, not just on you, but on the public. I mean, I’d love to hear about more out-and-proud athletes. It would give me more people to look up to. I hate what this is doing to you both, but until he changes his mind or retires, this is the way it’s going to be. I can’t sugarcoat this, because if you decided you couldn’t take the lies and sneaking around any more, I’d get it, and I’d support you.” She sighed, thought for a second, and continued. “I guess what I’m trying to say in a big, long, rambling way is that I’ve got your back no matter what.”
Chip said nothing. The rain lightened up, and he closed the umbrella. She led him on to the sidewalk, where they strolled back to the house in silence.
“The story of the season is Tyler Florman. Just a few months ago he was considering retirement, and now he’s been given an upgrade by booking shops to win the only Grand Slam he hasn’t won, Wimbledon.” The sportscaster said in her clipped, neutral voice. Tina and Chip were watching television for news about the tournament.
“If he wins this slam he will be one of a handful of players to have won every grand slam once in their career. It’s considered one of the top achievements in sports. He will have to win it of course, and there are several players who’d love to see him defeated, including defending champion Mark Greenfield. His current level of play is the best it’s ever been on grass, with him winning his very first grass court tournament last week at Queen’s Club. He’s still considered an underdog.” She said, a picture of Tyler holding the trophy displayed on the screen.
“While the odds are better than ever for him to win it, he’s still not the bookies’ favorite, due to his lack of titles on grass. From a sentimental point of view though, many in the sport would love to see this veteran accomplish the career grand slam. In other news…”
Tina turned off the television and spoke. “What Sania did to you in Paris was shitty.” They were alone, and hadn’t spoken about this before. Chip leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster any words, so he said nothing.
“Has she even apologized?”
“Tina, I hate it. I hate that she sent me away from his side, but ultimately, what was she to do? She was following orders, his orders.” Chip was tired of thinking about it. He knew he had to get along with Sania. Thinking about her asking him to leave the hospital wasn’t helping. He remembered the look in her eyes. She wasn’t happy doing it, but reporters were everywhere, and she was just doing her job. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
