The waiting was almost over. Petie was warming up and his match would start in a few minutes. His opponent was a small, 14-year-old boy from Clearwater, the #4 seed.
“What do you think, Mary, any chance?”
“The kid looks steady, Jim. Pete will need to put some pressure on his backhand or the kid will keep the ball in play forever.”
Gregg agreed. “Pete can’t out-rally him, the boy has been playing tournaments for three years and is too experienced. He’s almost two years older than Pete. It’ll be tough.”
Pete was 12 but would turn 13 in July, two weeks before the August 1 cutoff. That meant he was considered a 13-year old by USTA standards, and forced to enter the 14 and under age bracket rather than the 12 and under. The United States Tennis Association was the governing authority for U.S. junior tennis.
They were ready to start. Pete won the toss and elected to start with his back to the sun. His opponent elected to serve. “Good,” Gregg said, “that’s just what we wanted. It will give Pete some time to get into the match, and who knows, the other boy might be nervous too.”
As Pete got into position to return serve, he looked over at his small cheering section and winked. Maybe we were more nervous than he was?
The boy missed his first serve and hit a short second serve with nothing on it. Pete stepped in and blasted a winner up the line. The boy just looked at Pete who calmly walked over to the ad-court.
The boy took something off his next first serve and Pete returned hard to the backhand, producing a weak reply that landed inside the service line. Pete stepped in and nailed a forehand into the corner for another winner. The boy was shell-shocked. You could see it from the stands.
The boy tried two hard serves on the next point and double faulted. He won the love-40 point with a service winner but lost the game on the next point when he netted a backhand. Parents are supposed to be invisible in these matches, but it was so hard not to applaud and cheer. The three of us settled for a couple claps and a thumbs-up as the boys switched sides.
Pete was all business as he prepared to serve. It was one thing to break his opponent’s serve, but tennis is all about holding your own serve, even at age 12. Gregg had a great service motion and had been working with Pete every day. His serve was pretty good, but serving in practice and serving in a match is entirely different.
“Bam,” was the sound I heard as Petie’s first serve rocketed up the middle for an ace. What a way to start!
“Wide,” shouted his opponent.
Pete looked over at the boy but said nothing. Gregg and he had talked Thursday about how to react if he got a bad call. It helped that Mary put her hand on my knee. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut.
Pete’s second serve kicked wide to the boy’s backhand. The return was pretty good but Pete had followed his serve to the net and volleyed a winner to the open court. Three points later, including an ace and a service winner, Pete was ahead two games to zero.
“It’s over,” Gregg whispered.
“I agree,” Mary nodded.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me he was this good?” I asked.
Gregg looked at Mary and tried to answer. “We didn’t have any idea, Jim. You never can tell how a kid will react under pressure. Most of us get nervous, some choke. A few like Pete raise their game to a new level. They thrive on the competition.”
“Jim, we have a real tennis player here,” Mary added. “There is no telling how good he can be. The sky’s the limit.”
“Or the French Open,” I thought to myself.
A continent away Carlos was finishing a straight set annihilation of his nemesis, Pedro, the boy who had beaten him the first day at camp. The scores were 6-1, 6-2, but it really wasn’t that close.
Sergio and Fritz had watched from a distance. “He’s ready,” Sergio proclaimed. “Let’s see how he does at Nationals.”