Matchpoint

Chapter 4:

By the time I arrived home from my run in the morning, my parents had left the house, a single note left lonely on the kitchen counter.

Had to get Dominic prepared for his day ahead and collect his team from the airport. We'll see you later today.
Mum xx

Mother's a lady of few words. The less used, the better. With a huff, I drag myself up the stairs and change into my tennis gear. I've got a full day of sessions ahead of me, plus a whole lot of assignments to start, but they apparently don't matter as much as this academy, in my parents' opinion, of course.

The best part about tennis, minus the energy and intense passion that is seen whilst playing the game, is the tennis gear. Ever since I was little, I've loved the pleated skirts, Nike shorts, and sports bras of endless colours. My room is like a wardrobe of colourful pieces, my favourite being a deep forest green set. When I was little and watched the Wimbeldon l, I used to question my parents on why all the players would wear white. It was so plain, I would think. Now that I'm older, I appreciate the elegance of the white on the green court. Something about it seems so enchanting, like royalty claiming their land.

But nothing beats a good colourful pairing, I certainly love watching the new designs for each tournament.

I don't mind a quiet morning, the one without my parents rushing around the room like buzzing bees. Instead, I can gather my gear with ease.

By the time I get down to the courts, Ladley is already setting up her first drill. This is what she's like, Ladley never takes a break, and she always has to prove herself.

Two years ago, Ladley was named the up and coming coach of the season, and since then, she's only continued to boost in her coach ranking. She's probably the second best our of all the coaches here, second to my mother, of course.

"Early this morning?" I ask as I dump my bag down on the court and unzip my tennis racket. Some professional tennis players go through something like 40 rackets in a year, and the average player gets their racket restrung four times a month.

On the other hand, I've used the same racket for the past two years and restrung it an average of six times a month. Luckily, here at the academy, we have professionals who are able to restring on a daily basis.

"Of course, didn't you hear?" Ladley looks up at me with a sceptical look. "Dom is choosing his coach today, we all got an email last night to put forward our names if we wanted to be in the running to coach him, I thought it would be an excellent opportunity considering he is going to be the best of the best."

"Oh, I see." I mutter, grabbing my bottle and setting it down on the bench. "Want to rally for a bit whilst we wait?"

Ladley seems to be ignoring me, I know it's not on purpose. She gets like this when she's stressed. Ladley was a child wonder. She played atany tournaments but also got injured in her early years, knocking her out of competitive competitions for good. She's still able to play for fun, but not strenuous activities. I still remember the game. It still pops up on my social media from time to time. Ladley was eighteen, and she was playing for a qualifier. She slid across the court in an attempt to smash an epic forehand from her component, but as she slid, her foot seemed to catch on the ground and she howled as she went tumbling to the floor. The ball, I can still hear it, thump thump thump, as it bounced past Ladley and hit the back of the court. Time seemed too slow, and it took the officials a couple of seconds to register that Ladley would not be getting up.

She shattered her ankle and tore her ACL. She was in rehab for a long time. Though Ladley was never in the top names of tennis stars and her coaching degree had shot her to fame way before then, her injury changed her.