Trophy Son(44)

Our conversation had easy transitions between heavy and light, dark and light, so I said, “We both have had trouble getting close to people, trusting people. I know I have anyway, and maybe you have. In our lives these walls have gone up and I think of them as external and internal walls. The external walls are social isolation. The internal walls are emotional isolation. You have some internal walls. The problem with professional tennis is that it causes both. It’s ironic because most people think of tennis as one of the social sports. You play with some friends, tell jokes, afterward you drink beer and lemonade. That’s tennis for most people but professional tennis is an external wall, so high you can’t see over it.” I was still on my first glass of wine and had barely touched it but sipped it then. I thought about telling Ana about Liz but decided not to. Still humiliating after all those years. “You got over the external wall to me. The internal wall too.” If that didn’t say I love you, I didn’t know what would.

I watched her. “Anton, that’s…” She was blushing. “Really beautiful.”

I said, “Have you ever read Lucretius?” I knew this was geeky but she wanted to be a writer and I thought it might work out okay.

“No.”

“He was a Roman, he wrote On the Nature of Things, and he was a follower of Epicurus, a Greek philosopher. Some people think Epicureanism is about indulging and orgies and is anti-religion, but it’s not. One of the main things is that the key to happiness is human relationships, here on earth.”

The blushing was gone. She was over that and on to something else. “I believe that’s true. When I think of my happiest moments, more and more of the recent ones involve other people and that wasn’t the case ten years ago. I’m happier now than I was then.”

Who were those other people she was having happy moments with? Ryan Hall. Damn. “That’s good to hear,” I said. “Ryan must be a nice guy.” I said it. I couldn’t help but bring it up. They’d been dating off and on for years and I had read recently that it was back on.

“He’s a good guy.”

Measured praise? It seemed that way. I hoped. “I’m sure.”

She said, “We’ve had some happy moments, though I have to say we’ve never had a conversation like this one.”

This sounded very good. “What does he like to talk about?”

“Topics might include changes to his gym routine suggested by his personal trainer, new research on nutrition, players the Clippers are evaluating in the upcoming NBA draft.”

“All interesting.” Now we were making fun of Ryan. This was deadly stuff.

“That’s not really fair of me.” She laughed. “He’s smart and interesting. He reads a lot. Maybe not Lucretius, but screenplays, some novels.”

“Of course.” I needed to be gentle with Ryan here. Stay above it. I was pretty sure the damage was already done anyway. Ryan was toast.

“He wants to go from teenage heartthrob actor to serious actor. He might be able to do it.”

I felt a little sorry for Ryan then. He probably had many of the same issues Ana and I did. “I’m sure he’ll figure something out.”

That night I kissed Ana goodnight on her cheek by the elevator in her hotel lobby. I was sure we both wanted more but this was the way to end our night. We had built something strong between us. A human connection of knowledge and trust. It’s possible to come to know a person so that you know just how they’ll be when they’re with you and there’s a happy anticipation of seeing them the way there is for a return trip or repeat holiday.

Days later the US Open started and I was winning with such authority that the media started talking about me as the favorite to win the tournament. I was unbeatable up to the finals when my leg cramped in the second set, then I had to retire the match in the third set.

I would like to say my success on the courts was due entirely to my success at the Waverley Inn but there was another new influence on my tennis in those weeks. Bobby was giving me what he called candy poppers. Small hits of testosterone in a jellybean.

He calculated my weight and metabolism to measure precisely enough for a four-hour hit. If a match ended quickly and I got tested, I needed to hold my pee and watch the clock.

It was risky but it was worth it. Everyone should get to try it once. There was a large boost in energy but more surprising was the boost in focus, even determination. My vision seemed to go from twenty/twenty to twenty/ten. I could hear everything cleaner, make distinctions between all the different tiny sounds, process the information and react. I was a weapon.

Ben Archer had made it to the semis on the other side so I didn’t face him but he put in another good tournament. Steady Ben. Easy Ben. Content Ben, growing bananas. How the hell did he do it?





CHAPTER

31

I would set all meetings with Bobby and Gabe by then. I made it clear that I didn’t want our discussions shared with Dad. I didn’t want him to be involved in any way. There can be no influence if there’s no knowledge.

Dad had gotten resentful that he was out, off the team. He’d joke with me that I had fired him and he’d say he wondered where was his severance package. He’d taken up trying to coach local kids at the high school and the club, looking for another pro prospect.

But I needed Dad out. The Anton Stratis enterprise would rise or fall with me in charge. I took this role on and not without anxiety, but I had to take it. I couldn’t be a champion on the court and someone’s lieutenant off it.