“Well, it’s all going to be very straightforward. Just a few questions, nothing too difficult, I promise.”
Jasmine rarely took reporters at their word, but Hodges’s reputation was pretty solid.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Hodges took out his phone and started to record.
“Both of you have a real shot to make a splash on tour next season. Why don’t you tell me a little about how you got to where you are? Jasmine?”
“It’s been a long, hard road. I sprained my ankle at last year’s US Open qualifying, but I just got back from Madrid, my first real tour-level event, and that was super exciting, and now we’re prepping for the Classic and the French Open.”
She’d learned the pivot technique from her dad. It was best to give answers that didn’t really answer the question. It kept reporters from putting together whatever narrative they wanted to write and forced them to write what you wanted.
“And Indy?”
“The last few days have been so crazy I don’t even know where to start. A month ago, I was trying to figure everything out, decide whether to stay in college or try tennis again. Now I’m seeded fourth at the OBX Classic, and how did you put it? I have a chance to make a splash on tour next year. It blows my mind.”
“Who are your inspirations?” Hodges asked, moving his phone back to Jasmine.
“Definitely my parents.” Short, sweet, and to the point. There would be no way for Harold to take it out of context, but instead of moving on, his eyes lit up. She cringed inwardly. She’d opened the door to questions about her parents.
“Do you feel extra pressure to perform well given the high standard your parents set, particularly your father, during their pro careers?”
Jasmine smiled, wide and entirely fake. “No,” she said from between her clenched teeth. “I’m not them.”
“And what are your goals this year? Your mother won the French Open when she was your age,” he said, as if she needed reminding. The trophy was in her living room for Pete’s sake.
“My goal is to play my best. That’s the only thing I can control.”
Hodges nodded and then turned to Indy. Jasmine let her smile fall.
“And you, Indy, who is your inspiration?”
“Tennis inspiration or plain old awesome inspiration?” Indy asked, twirling the bottom of her ponytail around her finger.
Hodges tilted his head. “Whichever you prefer.”
“My mom, then. This was always our dream. She inspires me every time I walk out onto the court.”
“And where’s your mother now?”
“She passed away. Cancer.”
Jasmine’s stomach sank. She hadn’t expected that.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Hodges said. “Is that why you’ve put off playing at a higher level until now?”
“Partly,” Indy said. “If you don’t mind, I don’t really like talking about it.”
“I’m sure she’d be very proud to see how far you’ve come in such a short time. Why don’t you tell me about training at OBX, the best thing and the worst thing.”
“The worst thing is that I was in such terrible shape before I got here, so the conditioning’s been rough, but the best thing by far has been working with Dom and the other coaches here. It’s a whole new level for me, but they’ve been really supportive.”
“I spoke to your coach,” Hodges said, glancing behind him to where Dom was still standing, “and he said, and I’ll quote, ‘Indiana Gaffney has the most natural talent I’ve seen in a player since Penny Harrison.’ What’s your reaction to that?”
Jasmine felt her knees buckle, like someone had come up from behind her and slammed them with a baseball bat. That was an incredible comparison. Penny was one of thebest players in the world. She turned to Dom, wide-eyed, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was focused on Indy. If that was true, if that was what he really thought, then where did that leave her?
Finally, Indy found her voice. “I’m not sure I have a reaction. Being compared to Penny is an honor I hope I can live up to someday.”
