“No, it just buys you a coach and a trainer and a physio to travel everywhere with you, and what does that guy do?” I pointed to a member of his team I didn’t recognise. “Is he your hairdresser?”
“Funny.”
His coach stood waiting at the other end of the court, arms folded. Leo Mannering was famous for having coached at least three past world number ones, and while Miles hadn’t gotten there yet, it seemed only a matter of time.
“Boss is getting impatient,” I said, nodding toward the man. “Though you muscled in on a bunch of my time already.”
“He’s not my boss,” he growled and it was nice to have hit a nerve. Perhaps Mannering’s reputation for being a hard taskmaster was well-founded, or perhaps there was trouble in paradise.
Either way, I felt a little sorry for making him scowl with so many fans watching, and said, “Sure looks like he wants to be.”
“Now that’s true.” He breathed out a soft laugh and threw a sidelong glance toward his coach. “Best described as a grumpy old shit, if I’m honest.”
The unexpected admission drew a laugh from me, and for a moment his lips twitched into that infectious smile. But only for a moment, before it once again twisted into a smirk and he stepped back. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Another chance to find out which of us actually turned out better. Although I already know how it’ll go.”
Without giving me time to reply, he strode off leaving me seething.
KATIE DIDN’T WIN. Such was tennis, and she soon spun her frustration into fresh energy and spent the evening alternately packing and negotiating travel plans with her coach.
I sat slumped on the couch, trying not to let doubt eat me alive. After my run-in with Callahan, I was more determined than ever to beat him. Not just because he’d pissed me off, but because winning meant more money and double the rankingpoints. Winning could make this the season I finally made my comeback.
When it was late enough for my coach to be awake on the other side of the world, I called him. “Hey, Danny,” I said, lying on the couch and staring up at the stained ceiling.
“Hey, Mat, pulled up well?”
“Yeah, I’m feeling good. Physically at least.”
“Physically has always been your forte,” he returned with a faint laugh. Injuries were common in tennis, but my accident aside, I’d been lucky so far. It wouldn’t last. Not the way I had to travel. “So,” Danny went on. “Tell me your thoughts about Callahan.”
That he’s an irritating shit?“I don’t know,” I said aloud, heaving a sigh.
“Come on, you know his game. You’ve beaten him before.”
“Years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Kind of does, I wanted to say, but didn’t. “He’s got a big serve. Long reach. You can never count him out of points. Good touch at the net, too, damn him. He can do everything.”
“Right, people think he’s a flashy player because he’s got a big serve, but no. Callahan is methodical. He plans and he executes, finds your weakness then exploits the shit out of it. Do you remember that training camp he came out here for? You two were what? Fifteen? And there was Brad Tindale, sixteen going on twenty-six, wiping everyone off the court. Callahan was the only one who beat him, because he saw a weakness no one else did.” Danny laughed. “While Brad got nowhere because he was so used to winning easily that he never developed the ability to problem solve.”
“What’s my weakness?”
Silence hung on the end of the line until, eventually, Danny admitted, “I don’t know. Not that you don’t have any, but you werethe only player he couldn’t beat back then, which means he never found one he could consistently exploit.”
“Well, he can beat me now, so he must have figured one out.”
“Then we try to exploit his.”
We talked for a while, my confidence fluctuating as we went over a game plan that, at least on paper, sounded like it might work.
When I hung up, Katie was waiting. “I’m off to bed, since I have to fly out early,” she said, giving me hug. “I hope you’ll be sticking around for longer.”
I grimaced, caught between determined confidence and tenacious pessimism. “I’ll do my best.”
“Which is all we can ever do. But, Mat? I know you can win.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Give it your all. And whatever happens, I’ll see you in London.”
I WAS A fighter on the tennis court, butgiving it my allrarely seemed enough these days. And because I was playing the world number four,whatever happenedwould take place in front of an enormous crowd and be televised live across the world, giving me the chance not only to fail, but to fail spectacularly.
