The_New_Yorker_-_March_30_2020

(Wang) #1
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SURGERY






and the salt-who cares? He'll wake
up with heavy legs, but they will bum
for only the first ten minutes of his
five-mile run to and along the beach
and back. Then it's drills with Toby
on the family hard court, a near-exact
replica of the surface at the Diamond
Club. And, for the hour before the day's
match, it's Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger"
over and over, then, once the match
has started, nothing but his head in-
side a towel between games, though
there is not much of a crowd to block
out-Toby and Toby's father, the other
La Jolla grandees who are hosting his
opponents, plus scattered dub mem-
bers and loitering U.C.S.D. students.
If he wins the tournament, there are a
hundred points on offer. Rise and rise


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and rise through the ranks. The dream
of qualifying for one of the big-time
tournaments known as a Grand Slam
is never far away. Even to qualify for
the pre-tournament qualifying, where
a field of a hundred and twenty-eight
is narrowed down to sixteen lucky
entrants, who, having already made
it through three rounds before the
main Grand Slam began, arc expected
simply to be chum for the fresher,
seeded players.
Pavel does win the Diamond Club.
It's a first for Toby and his father: no-
body they're ever hosted has won; the
closest they came was a semi.finalist,
Pratesh, who had to retire with a hob-
bled ankle. They have sushi in honor
of the triumph. While they're waiting

for their green-tea ice cream at the end
of dinner, Toby's father slides an enve-
lope to Pavel's side of the table. A we.11-
wom ritual. What is this? Pavcl asks.
Toby's father just raises his chin, mean-
ing, Go on, open it. He smiles.
Discovering the check-as always,
made out to Cash-Pavel.looks at Toby,
then at Toby's father. I don't under-
stand. This is also the prize?
This is extra, Toby's father says.
I don't understand.
Consider it a gift. For your travels.
Your equipment. If you're holding back
from hiring a coach, now you can. Go
up even higher in the rankings!
No, no. Pavcl puts the check back
in the envelope and hands it to Toby's
father, whose mouth is open. Who has
to make a concerted effort to put his
face back in place. I don't need this,
Pavcl says. Between his first and sec-
ond utterances, Pavel has switched
tones. He's become conciliatory, po-
lite, talcing into account Toby's father's
hurt feelings. And then he offers this
explanation: Thank you, but my fa-
ther, he works in Paris in a pharma-
ceutical company. I would not be doing
this without him. He gives me every-
thing I need. and we have an agree-
ment that I try my very best. I am
lucky that I have this father: his dream
and mine arc the same.
This is the complete opposite of
Martin, with his patched-together
racket and that hangdog look. Pavcl is
someone, if not ofToby's and Toby's
father's class then very dose to it. Toby
has a cousin in the pharmaceutical in-
dustry, who lives in New York and Lon-
don and owns a place in each city. The
cousin's Instagram is a wet dream of
exotic locations: Abu Dhabi, Phuket,
Capri-all with the same sunset, the
same tedious vista of jewelled water
and pristine beach. I mean, why not
just save yourself the hassle and stand
in front of a revolving painted back-
drop, with an ever-replenishing blunt
between your :fingers? Toby thinks.
No wonder Pavcl loves Federer. His
love for Federer, in light of this reve-
lation, is pure class allegiance. Federer,
the silky Swiss spokesman for Moet &
Chandon, for Rolex.
If that is true, then how does Toby
account for his own Nadal mania? It's
not for the off-court Nadal, who is a
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