The Pigeon With the Tennis Elbow (4 page)

K
EVIN TRIED TO FOLLOW
Charlie's advice as the fourth game of the first set got under way. He kept his eye on the ball as Tommy returned his serve,
a sharp drive that headed straight for the baseline.

He waited, breathless. It struck just inside the line, and Kevin swung. Off balance, he met the ball with the throat of the
racket, sending it dribbling toward the net.
Darn!
he thought angrily. A point for Tommy.

Kevin's next serve hit the net. He followed it up with a good one that Tommy returned without trouble. Then they stroked the
ball back and
forth, Kevin concentrating mainly on getting the ball back over the net as Charlie had advised, and not about what the fans
might think of him if he made an error.

It wasn't easy, though. You can't change bad habits in one game, or in one set, or even in a dozen sets.

Then Tommy returned a ball that had bounced just inside his left sideline, and started to
walk
back toward the center of the court. Kevin, seeing his opportunity telegraphed to him, socked the ball hard to Tommy's opposite
corner. Tommy sprinted after it but couldn't get within a mile of it. Kevin's point. 15–15.

Kevin also scored the next two points. Then Tommy scored by luck, the ball striking the top of the net and dropping over on
Kevin's side. 40–30.

A minute later Kevin blasted the ball to Tommy's left side so that Tommy had to return with a backhand shot. The ball sliced
out of bounds and Kevin won. The set was 2-all now.

Tommy started off cautiously in the fifth game, taking the first three points. Kevin wiped the sweat from his forehead as
he shot a glance up at Charlie resting on top of the post. He saw Charlie jerk his head from side to side, then thought he
heard Charlie say, “Be the aggressor, boy. Wear him down.”

Sounds O.K., Charlie. But what if I wear down first?

He returned Tommy's serve beautifully. Tommy returned his just as beautifully. Then Kevin belted the ball a solid blow, bringing
up his racket as he struck to give the sphere a topspin.

The stroke worked. The ball shot over the net and bounced so sharply past Tommy that he wasn't able to touch it. Four more
points on hard drives gave Kevin the game and put him in the lead, 3 games to 2.

It was his turn to serve now, and he got a fault on his first try. The next was almost outside, hitting the sideline for a
score that was pure luck. Tommy swung too late at it, apparently
thinking that it might hit outside the line. 15-love.

“Pretty lucky, O'Toole,” Roger Murphy said, just loud enough for Kevin to hear.

Kevin failed again to get his first serve right. His second was better. Tommy returned it, and for half a dozen strokes the
boys played errorless ball.

Then Kevin saw his chance to be
aggressive
again, and blasted the ball to the corner behind Tommy. 30-love.

Whether it was the shot or the score, Tommy's balloon was pricked. Kevin took the next two points, winning his first love
game of the match. Tommy couldn't seem to get out of his slump and lost the set, 6–2.

As the boys walked to the bench to rest, Kevin looked up at Charlie and saw the pigeon's right eye close and open in a pleased
wink.

“Good match, Kevie,” said Charlie. “You follow instructions like a real pro.”

Kevin smiled. “I guess I owe you…” he
started to say, then paused. If the fans heard him talking to a pigeon they'd think that he was ready for the funny farm!

Even though the rest was only for a minute, Kevin was grateful for it. He really needed it. The heat was torture.

“Kevin!”

He turned and saw Ginnie leaning forward in her seat, her hands cupped around her mouth. “Finish him off in the next set!”

“Ginnie!” said her mother, grabbing Ginnie's arm and pulling her back. “Don't be so cruel!”

“What's cruel about that?” said Ginnie.

Kevin looked away, grinning. He knew that Mom had to undergo a lot of embarrassment quite often because of her daughter's
courage to say whatever was on her mind.

As the boys changed sides for the start of the second set, Kevin saw that Charlie wasn't on the post. He glanced around to
see if Charlie had discovered another perch. He had not.

Then Kevin glimpsed a pigeon flying high in the distance, and figured that Charlie was just
exercising his wings. After all, sitting on a small flat spot for a couple of hours would tire any old body. Nonetheless Kevin
hoped the remarkable bird would return soon.

Tommy, serving first, failed to get the initial shot over the net. His second was good. He seemed to have regained a lot of
his composure, and started to score points on hard-hit shots that Kevin got a racket on but hit out of bounds. Tommy took
the first three games, outplaying, out-hitting, out-shining Kevin as if he had been saving up all his tricks and skill for
this second set.

But something happened to his playing in the fourth game. Kevin guessed it was fatigue. Tommy had been doing a lot of running
in the first three games and in the heat might have run himself ragged. Anyway, Kevin once again became the aggressor and
the tide turned. He took the next four games in a row.

Then fatigue weakened him too.
Ease up, Kev,
warned his conscience.
Maybe this is exactly what Tommy wants you to do — get all
bushed so he can take you to the cleaners in the next three games.

Kevin listened to his conscience and took it easy. Tommy took the game. 4-all.

Ginnie clattered down the stands and sat next to Kevin during the one-minute rest period. “You're playing a good game, Kev!”

“You're just trying to make me feel good. But thanks, anyway,” he said.

Both boys went into the next game strong. But it was Tommy who won it on a lob over Kevin's head. 5–4, Tommy.

Just before Kevin began to serve the next game he heard a whisper of wings near him and the next thing he knew Charlie was
perched on his right shoulder.

“Charlie!” Kevin cried sharply. “Where have you been?”

“You need some sound advice, boy, so I came back,” said Charlie into his ear. “You can take that Smith kid if you'll listen
to old Charlie. Will you listen?”

“I'm listening, I'm listening!” answered Kevin anxiously. “But hurry, will you? The crowd will wonder what in heck's going
on!”

The crowd was already wondering what in heck was going on. A buzzing had started up among them, mixed with a ripple of laughter.

“You've got to be more aggressive,” advised Charlie in that funny, cooing pigeon voice of his. “Hit the ball behind him. He's
a poor backhand shot, and that's what you have to work on. O.K.?”

“O.K. Now get, will you, Charlie, before I'm disqualified for holding up the game?”

“Attaboy,” said Charlie, starting to lift his wings to take off. “Spunk! That's what I like. See you, boy.”

Charlie flew off, leaving a very embarrassed Kevin looking after him. Instantly a thunder of applause rose from the fans,
mixed with a chorus of yells.

“Who's your friend, Kevin?”

“Why didn't you give
him
the racket?”

Then, the inevitable clincher, “Is he your coach, Kevin? Ha! Ha!”

Man, if I told you he was, you'd die!

Kevin followed Charlie's advice as well as he could, trying to hit the ball behind Tommy whenever the opportunity arose. But
his anxiety doomed him. Most of the shots landed either against the net or out of bounds.

Tommy won the game, and the set.

6

A
FTER THE TEN-MINUTE
rest period both boys appeared fresh and full of pep. Kevin wished it was all over with, though. Fresh-looking he might be,
but his arms and legs felt as if spikes were driven into them.

He lost the first game by an embarrassingly wide margin; he didn't score a point.

The next game was better, but Tommy won it. Game-30.

“I think you're
too
aggressive,” said Ginnie during the one-minute rest period. “You're playing into his hands.”

There you go,
thought Kevin in utter confusion.
Charlie tells me to be more aggressive and she tells me I'm too aggressive. Maybe I'd be smarter to ignore their advice and
play my own way.

Tommy served the third game. Kevin took Ginnie's advice and relaxed a bit. Twice the game went into the advantage stage for
him, and both times Tommy tied it up. Then Kevin took two points in a row and won it. 2–1, Tommy.

Kevin won the next game too, not only tying up the score, but proving something he had been told in the process.
Don't be too aggressive. Just hit the ball over the net. Let your opponent drive it back as hard as he wants to. Count on
him to make the errors.

He took the game, and finally the set, 6–2.

He ran over and shook hands with Tommy. Then, as he started off the court amid loud applause from the fans, he heard a sudden
flutter of wings and there was Charlie, settling on his shoulder.

“Nice game, Kevie!” said Charlie, tickling
Kevin's right ear with the tip of his wing. “You played that last set like your great old uncle used to! You were marvelous,
boy! Just marvelous!”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Kevin said, and thought:
Like my great old uncle used to? You sure about that, Charlie? I thought you were the aggressive type!

“See you later, Kevie,” Charlie said. “Right now you're in for some congratulations from your happy fans.” With that he flew
off, and Kevin felt the dig of his sharp claws on his shoulder.

“See you, Charlie,” said Kevin. Then he turned to meet his sister, mother and a host of other people who came to offer him
their congratulations.

They made quite a fuss over him. He liked it, yet,
Wonder what they would've done if I had lost?
he thought.

That evening Charlie flew in while Kevin was lying on the smooth, close-cut, cool lawn.
The sun was just beginning to set, a big red disk with a veil of cloud streamers lying across the face of it.

“Tch! Tch!” muttered Charlie. “What a life!”

Kevin grinned. “Don't tell
me
what a life. I think
you've
got the life. Wish I could fly, go anywhere anytime I please, and not think about what clothes to wear. Man, I'd have a ball.”

Charlie chuckled. “That's being envious, boy. And envy is the root of a lot of heartaches.”

“Now you sound like my third grade teacher,” said Kevin. “Shall I bring out a blackboard?”

“Tch! Tch!” said Charlie again. “I'm just telling you these things for your own good, Kevie. Having lived a good many years
as a human, I learned what kind of flowers were safe to pluck and what kind weren't. Envy is far from being a rose.”

“I'm sorry, Charlie,” said Kevin. “I didn't mean to be smart.”

“Forget it. The fact is, you're right. I'm
happy in this new life of mine. It does have a lot of advantages over being a human. But the trouble is, I still love tennis.
That's the advantage you have over me. Who'd think of making a tennis racket for a pigeon? Anyway, if anybody was crazy enough
to try it, how could I ever hold onto the darn thing?”

Kevin laughed. “I guess you're right, Charlie. There are advantages in being a human being
and
being a pigeon.” He rolled over and looked Charlie in the left eye. “Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Shoot,” said Charlie.

“Do you have any pigeon friends? You're not the
only
pigeon who used to be a human being, are you?”

Charlie let out a peal of laughter. “Of course not, boy! I have several friends!”

“Where are they? I've only seen you around here.”

Charlie ruffled his feathers in what Kevin presumed to be a shrug. “That's because they preferred to stay back there in the
city, under
that big church steeple near the courtyard. I was never much of a city kid. Not too many tennis courts there. But, frankly,
living under that church steeple has something appealing about it. We could find food easy enough. You'd be surprised how
anxious people are to feed us. It's toughest in winter, of course. But we manage to get all we need.”