She’d been used to reverence from younger players who met her, hoping they would become one of the only hundreds out of tens of thousands in their age range who had the skill for professional play.
Now it felt a little strange, given her unceremonious retirement and, for the first time in her life, a lack of confidence regarding what would come next.
Jenna’s head bobbed up and down quickly as she stepped behind the baseline. “Yes. Do you want to use my racket?”
“Sure,” Sydney said, taking the racket that Jenna had already offered her. At least if she did terribly, she could blame it on not schlepping a few extra feet to get her own from her bag.
Sydney bent her knees slightly and let the weight of the racket move between her hands.
She’d missed it, how everything around her stopped while she was waiting for the ball, anticipating what would happen.
Grant and his betrayal were so far from her mind she’d need a passport to get there. Her career, or lack thereof, filtered into the background, unimportant as she felt the court beneath her feet.
And Reese? Well, that one was still hanging around at her periphery, but she made the intentional decision to push her further into the din.
“Your knee okay for this?” Brian asked, expressing genuine concern.
Sydney nodded, settling the grip in her right hand, her left one gently braced on top of it.
Brian bounced a ball. “Ready to show ‘em how it’s done, kid?”
After another nod, the ball was careening in her direction. She stepped forward deftly, muscle memory taking over as her arm formed into an L-shape. She felt the racket make contact with the ball in a high-to-low swing path, keeping her wrist in a neutral position even upon impact. She threw her right shoulder into her movement to put power into the motion, her racket moving across her body but slowing down after contact.
She came back to a standing position, watching the ball as it landed on the two white lines that intersected to form the back left corner of the court.
Brian was already moving toward the net. “Beautiful shot, but I expected nothing less. You can take a breather, Jenna,” he added a little louder for his student’s benefit, given how she looked adorably starstruck.
“Thanks,” Sydney said, turning to Jenna to return the racket before she jogged to center court.
“I wondered if I’d see you around here again.” Brian extended his arms across the net for a hug.
He smelled the same as ever as she leaned into his chest, like a clean aftershave and the shea butter he’d always worn religiously.
“No place like home,” Sydney said as she disentangled herself to look at her old coach fully. “You look good. I thought I’d be coming home to an old man.”
“These knees aren’t what they used to be,” he said as he knocked his racket against his leg and looked down at her own braced knee. “Seems like we have that in common.”
Sydney shrugged. “I’ve had better years.”
“It’s true? You’re officially retired?”
“I hope so because otherwise, I’m overdue at Wimbledon about now,” she deflected.
In her mind, she still told herself that she was on anextended break, that her return to pro tennis was inevitable. But at least a year of surgery and rehab to fully correct her knee injuries would put her at well past thirty before a return would even be possible, and the same amount of time without full-time practice and training would have passed, too.
It was an impossible dream that would only end in her slogging her way through first-round losses and failing to qualify for the tournaments she used to have a chance of winning.
Brian leaned in closer, clocking the look on her face. “You doing okay? I know the transition can be hard. We feel like we’re invincible when we’re young, like we can go on forever.” He placed his hand on Sydney’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m here for whatever you need. A hitting partner. A friend. A drinking buddy,” he finished with a laugh.
“God,” Sydney said, smiling, “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in so long.”
She’d missed Brian. He seemed to be able to slip between coach and friend and confidant in a matter of seconds, and at the heart of it all, he’d genuinely wanted to help her succeed.
“You’re evading the question.” He was also famously forthright, she was being forced to remember.
Sydney bit the inside of her lip, trying to find the right words. She wished she had her racket to swing back and forth to distract herself. Instead, she placed her hands against the white of the net and squeezed. “I’m managing. I thought I had another couple of good years in me, but life had other plans.”
“All of our careers end one way or another, and you’ve already had an impressive one.”
