millionaire many times over, but for
the player who has the press writing
about the tennis court as a bullring in
which he's not a minimalist matador
of a few decisive moves but the low-
liest of the low-the bull, with his
grunts and his flexed eyebrows. For
Nadal, as for no other player, victory
is hard work. How does lazy Toby ex-
plain his fervent admiration for some-
body who, as the press notes, "fights
for every point"? But isn't that the es-
sence of dreaming-wanting to be
somebody you're not?
T
he following morning, Toby drops
Pavel off at the airport, from where
he is flying tD Florida, fur the next event
The Czech is as much of a stranger as
he was on the day that Toby picked
him up. Toby notices that Pavel is
headed directly to the boarding gate,
with a pre-screened ticket. Also, when
the plane boards, he'll have priority
over other passengers, which costs extra.
Pavd didn't need the tournament-
winner check the way Martin did. He
would never have conspired, as the
Chilean had, to earn the equivalent--
or maybe more-through extracurri.c-
ularwranglings, which have cost Mar-
tin fu more than he anticipated or is
capable of paying. How unfair life is.
Another unfair fart oflife: although
he nabbed the champion's trophy at
the Diamond Club, Pavel is not even
half as talented as Martin, who, if he
had not hooked up with crirnina1 col-
leagues, might have gone all the way
in La Jolla.
One shot in particular tD illustrate
Martin's skill, something he hit over
and over during his two rounds of gen-
uine play: he is in the service box by
this point, having sent a shot deep,
barely allowing his opponent to get the
ball over the net, and the ball meets
his racket not at the center, where the
logo is, but on the outer rim, the racket
held nearly vertically, as if he were
using it to shield himself, and with the
softest-the softest:--grip, so soft that
the handle is nearly unclasped, tap-
ping, kissing the ball, which obliges
by swooning just onto the other side,
where, once it greets the court, it falls
away with the slightest postcoital shiver.
No opponent, regardless how speedy
his legs, can do anything but gesture
at a return, with a cry of futility that
masks the admiration he must certainly
feel for having been dispatched with
such subdued poetry.A
s before, Toby takes the precau-
tion of closing the curtains, and
he sits facing the door, in case his fa-
ther should decide to walk in, though
how could he, since Toby has locked
himself in?
Martin looks terrible. Well, it's 4 A.M.
in Santiago. He has stayM up to be able
to make this assignation.
How are you? Martin says. You look
good. Becoming more of a man every
day.
Toby asks him about Pavel. Does
Martin know the Czech player?
I don't think I ever played that guy.
His ranking sounds way higher than
mine.
He won.
IfI had a beer I would be making
a toast.
How is your case going? Toby asks.
He would not normally go straight into
business, but he doesn't know what else
to say. This is his third and, he hopes,
last encounter with Martin, though he's
sure that Martin wants their sessions
to dragon.
Martin is appealing his lifetime sus-
pension from the game. He tells Toby
his lawyer is confident that they can
get the ban down to two years-maybe
one year with community service, whichwould involve being the South Amer-
ican face of an advertorial about the
ills of tennis gambling and match-:fix-
ing. The Chilean has already given up
his underworld contacts to the tennis
authorities, so he has to produce other
bargaining chips. Not so smart, but this
is retrospective wisdom.
How is the weather there? A dead
conversational. gambit that Toby hopes
will signal to Martin that he has fullen
out of love.The only good thing about being
stuck here is the weather, Martin says.
It's hot. I don't like the cold. I don't
think I can live in a cold place. Mar-
tin smiles. It's hot where I am, and it's
hot where you are. Why don't we make
it the same hot?
Toby should not have blabbed about
being in love with Nadal. Both the stel-
lar athlete and Nadal the Torso. Should
not have given the Chilean another
item in the drop-down menu of dis-
advantages to capitalize on. He sighs.
I already told you. My father doesn't
want you here.
But after he goes back to Macao. He
doesn't have to know. Just you and me.
He's staying put this year.
You are lying to me, Toby. I thought
we were friends.
I'm not lying.
O.I<., O.K.Martin is nodding. I will
keep apologizing until your father ac-
cepts. You are telling him my apolo-
gies, right?
Yes.
Are you sure?
Whenever I can,I'm repeating what
you say.
I don't WllD.t to keep trying and he
hangs up on me. So it has to be through
you. Are you trying?
I already told you.
OJ(., it's late, and I do not want to
be a drag. You say you're telling, and I
have to believe you.
Behind Martin, Toby can't make out
much of anything.Is that a bed frame?
Are there windows, or could that be a
trick of the video grain? Did Martin
turn out all the lights to save on elec-
tricity? Or so as not to spoil the :fic-
tion of his poverty?
I swear, I'm not lying, Toby says.
You are no longer my friend. I un-
derstand. I disappoint you. This is my
life: I disappoint so many people. But
you have to understand-
! do, Martin.
-you have to believe me, I would
not do that thing if I do not have to.
I need the money. So I was blinded
because the money is quick. Who
wouldn't be, in my situation? This is
as much as Martin has talked about
his cheating. Frankly~ Toby does not
have the heart to press him on the de-
tails. He has the most important part
the impossibility of Martin's making1l£ NEY )OMfR, MAl\01 30, 1020 63