Page 108 of This Could be Love

Kim was the first to exit the tunnel. Number fifty-nine in the world rankings, she was one of the lesser-known players, but the audience greeted her enthusiastically all the same. But she didn’t catch much of it. Her eyes lowered, her earbuds in, she walked to her bench. I had pushed my own earbuds onto my neck. I wanted to hear it. Everything. The loudspeakers, the music, the cheering and clapping. The noise that 23,000 ticket holders can make. It surged as I stepped out onto the court and made my way to my bench. I could feel it echoing through my body, vibrating beneath the soles of my shoes. It drowned out my thoughts, the roaring in my ears. I risked a quick glance at my parents—who were sitting in my box and clapping proudly—and smiled at theWelcome Back!posters in the crowd. I grew dizzy with joy.

What came next was as familiar as my name. The briefwarm-up, the coin toss that would decide who served, the obligatory photo, and the polite pat of each other’s shoulders.

As I made my way behind the baseline with a pounding heart and held the ball in my hand, the arena grew quiet as a mouse. I devoutly stroked the yellow felt, the white rubber seam. I had been afraid that my memories would catch up with me, yet there was nothing but the anticipation of finally being able to make new ones.

* * *

After almost two hours, I won the match with an ace. I threw up my hands and let out a cry of joy. The audience went wild. They had backed me up the whole match. Not because they were against Kim, or because I was the better-known player. But because it was stories like mine that characterized the sport of tennis. Stories of falling and getting back up again.

“Lou, exactly one year ago you were taken off this very court in a wheelchair. How does it feel to be back?” ex-tennis star and commentator Jim Courier asked me after the match during my on-court interview.

“Great. It is definitely one of the best days of my life. The past year was unimaginably difficult. I didn’t know if I would ever play tennis again. If I would be able to make it back. And now I’m here. In this wonderful stadium, in front of a wonderful crowd.”

The end of my statement disappeared into the thundering applause.

“And we are all happy to have you back,” Courier said, gesturing toward the audience. Once it had quieted down a little, he asked, “What did you miss the most over the past year?”

“The competition, the adrenaline… I simply love it,” I said with a smile and a shrug.

“You tore six ligaments and had surgery on your ankle. Were there ever any moments you doubted making it back onto the great stage of tennis?”

“I wish I could say no, but that wouldn’t be true. When you end up with as bad an injury as mine, you need patience, and that’s really not my strong suit. There were a lot of times over the last year where I felt like I was walking in place. Not making any progress. I needed a change of scenery to get through it.”

“You went to go train in Hawaii, they say.”

“Yes. And that was the best thing that could have happened to me. I learned a lot about myself there, especially”—I paused for a moment and smiled—“that the lines of the tennis court are not the limits of my world.”

* * *

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Hey. I…um…just wanted to say congratulations. On…your win. That was really impressive. I mean… Oh, shit…

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Hey. I just watched your match. To be honest, I didn’t want to because I thought… Well, I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle watching you. So far away. From me. But then I did and… God, I don’t know what to say, Lou. You were stunning. Simply stunning. What you managed to do out there…how you fought for every point…and…how happy you looked while doing it… That was… I… It was wonderful to see you. You worked so hard for this, and I… I…

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Chapter 48

There were tons of messages waiting for me when I glanced at my phone for the first time on the drive to the hotel. After the short interview on the court, I had faced the international sports media, done a lap on the ergometer, gone to physio, and turned up freshly showered for the press conference. It was the same procedure that we professional players have to follow at every tournament.

I scrolled through the names of the people who’d written to congratulate me, including Kay, Laurie, and Gabe, various German players, Milan, and a few members of the German Tennis Federation. At that very moment a message appeared. Holding my breath, I opened it.

Congratulations!

You’ve earned it.

My heart skipped a beat. I read the text a second and a third time, but the letters stayed where they were.

“Lou?” my dad’s voice called me back to the here and now.

I looked up reluctantly.

“Should we reserve a table at that nice Italian place in Chelsea? The one with the cannelloni you like so much.”