haunts Toby still; when he wants to
get into a mood, he puts it on repeat
on bis iPod.T
hat everting, he brings the fruits
of bis research to his father as they
eat one of the cook's fancy, unappreci-
ated creations-chicken done with
=y extra touchcs---but it's the plain
rice that is actually :finished by both
father and son.
There's this app called Viber. Peo-
ple can text each other and it disap-
pears without a trace. So even ifI check
hisphone-
You don't even try!
Not everyone is like Martin, O.I<.?
Also, this guy's been climbing the rank-
ings-he's not going to risk everything.
You don't lmow that!
Maybe we should stop hosting them,
then, Toby says.
Is that what you want?
Not me. But it seems like you don't
want to anymore.
I do this for you. Everything I do is
for you. Toby's father punctures the
space between them with a fork----each
you a thrust, as if he means to dig the
tines into his son's flesh.
Stop saying that!
Doesn't matter if you don't want to
hear-is still true.
Let's stop hosting them, then, Toby
repeats. After Pavel-goodbye to
everything.
After a moment, Toby's father says,
again, Is that what you want?
No! Of course not! But that's what
you're forcing me to say!
Frankly, Toby doesn't like this year's
visitor, the Czech Pavcl, who is either
being served his own meal in the vis-
itors' wing of the house or is outside,
returning balls from one or both of
their ball machines on the hard court,
to train for his first-round match. Tough
to get away from the stereotypes that
arc a by-product ofbeing a United Na-
tions over the years: the Eastern Euro-
peans are prickly, moody; the Canadi-
ans are super friendly; the Indians are
open, a smile in their speaking voices;
the Africans and South Americans are
full of swagger, and they tend to stand
far behind the baseline when playing.
The Chinese who came up in the na-
tional academiee-they are tradition-
alists, counterpunchers, while the one
58 THE NEY~ MARCH 30, 2020who sought training abroad, away from
the government minders, styled his
game on Laver, Sampras, aimmg to be
part of the new-old wave resurrecting
a serve-and-volley M.O.
You wait and see, Toby's father says.
Sec what?
This guy? He will disappoint us, too.
Toby doesn't say, He already has.
Because, as soon as Toby picked Pavel
up at the airport, he knew there would
be no late-night toking sessions, no
drives around town, no practice games,
and, most disappointing of all, no ex-
tended discussions about the meaning
of life.P
avel wins his first round, as Toby
and his father watch from the
stands. It's an uncomplicated affair, two
straight sets, a break of serve in each.
The opponent, from Colombia, is a
tbrcc-stroke guy; getting him into a
rally, Pavel consistently cams an error
on the fourth or fifth shot.
Toby is pretty subdued with his ap-
plause. But &:vd, meeting them after-
ward, acts as if he hadn't noticed. He
envelops each of them in a hug, asking
if it's all right that he wants a ham-
burger and a milkshake to celebrate,
and do they know where to go? After-
ward, he adds, he would be happy to
practice with Toby on the family hard
court-to assess the boy's game and
offer adjustments and tips. Sorry he
has waited till now, but he's been toonervous; part of his pre-tournament
superstition involves keeping himself
to himsel£T
oby tells Pavel about the swans,
about spoiling them with gour-
met croutons.
What are croutons?
Toby tries to explain a few times
before giving up.
Toby makes the universal sign for
toking, and Pavel says that he does notunderstand. It takes Toby several beats
to realize that Pavel is entirely serious,
and then he gives up on that, too.
Pavel's diagnosis of Toby's game:
the young man doesn't have the legs.
He needs a lower-body boost to fun-
nel power into his weak serve, and he
has to improve his speed if he wants
to retrieve balls hit into the comers.
Let's do drills, Pavel says. After thirty
minutes, Toby's heart rate is out of this
world, his fu:e crazy. He has to lie down
by the baseline, looking up at the sky,
which takes a longtime to resolve. Am
I working you too hard? Pavel asks, not
really interested in the answer. He apol-
ogizes, sits down by Toby. It's O.K..-
this is a good start, Pavel says. You want
to be professional, right? It takes a mo-
ment for Pavel to realiu that Toby has
been outside his body for a while.
So the two are silent. They can
hardly hear the cars on the road that
skirts the beach. The din is absorbed
by the trees and shrubs that shield the
property from view. A row of giant
green Q:tips.
Toby sits up to signal that he has
reentered this life. He blinks, smiles.
Sorry, Pavel repeats.
After a while, Toby says, I can't be
professional.
I thought your father sai.d-
We tried, Toby says. He enrolled me
at the Nick Bollettieri Academy.
Pavel whistles. That's a lot of money,
he declares. And then, all at once, he
understands his stupidity. But, of
course ... His hands, gesturing at the
court, at the La J ol1a air, complete his
sentence. This is how recent? he asks.
When I was fourteen. And :fifteen.
So what happened?
Toby considers his reply. I coulcbft
stand the instructors, he says, after some
thought. And also the other students.
And also Florida.
But Florida is like here, Pavel says.
Same weather, same cars. And then he
adds, I hate Florida, too. And then he
tells Toby about his visits to the state:
a handful of Challengers, and before
that, when his rankings were "in the
sewer," a handful of Futures; the grind
of chasing the sun at its height world-
wide, scrambling fur the meagre points
on offer, for the small pots that the
winners take home. Toby has heard the
Indian, the Chinese, the Canadian, the