And Playing the Role of Herself (Frankiana)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Yes, yes...good. Cross to the corner now..." Eladio Sabatis called to Argel as he hit ball after ball in a steady rhythm over the net.

Argel returned each ball with a powerful, spinning backhand, each shot varying only inches in placement along the baseline. I watched his fluid movements in appreciation from my spot on the courtside bleachers, my elbows propped against the bleacher bench behind me and my legs stretched out on the bench below. Seeing the game from this distance was completely different than watching on television; everything seemed faster and more intense, increasing my already healthy admiration for Argel's talent.

"Good. Now. Show your beautiful friend how fast you can run." Eladio grinned at me, and sent a ball deep into the opposite corner of the court, forcing a swearing Argel to scramble after it.

"Damnit, Eladio..." Argel chased the ball down in a few long strides and sent a sizzling forehand down the line, turning immediately to sprint the other way when the coach hit the next ball into the other corner. That ball was crushed by a backhand down the line, and Argel was off and running again to chase Eladio's next offering.

"Cross, boi, not line," Eladio chided, sending another ball into a corner. "We work the cross today."

Argel grunted and continued to chase down balls for another five minutes, hitting deep cross-court returns on each ball Eladio sent him. After a final forehand return that had enough velocity on it to raise even Eladio's eyebrows, the coach called an end to practice.

"Good. You move your feet and your form is very good today." He glanced over at me and flashed another brilliant smile. "I think you are showing off for your lady friend, yes?" He laughed at Argel's scowl and waved him forward. The two men talked quietly at the net for several minutes then Eladio slapped Argel on the arm and turned away to begin collecting balls in a green wire ball basket.

Argel put his racquets in a large bag and grabbed a bottle of water and a towel before walking over and sitting down on the bleacher next to my outstretched legs.

"Very impressive." I smiled down at him, shading my eyes against the late afternoon sun. "A lot different than watching on TV."

"Thanks." He wiped his face with the towel and took several deep gulps of water. "I was surprised when you said you wanted to come by early and watch - not many people like to watch practice."

I raised an eyebrow and nodded at the small crowd of about fifteen people slowly vacating the bleachers on the other side of the court behind a barrier, most of them watching us with open curiosity. "Looks to me like you've got a nice little cheering section."

He drained his water bottle and wiped his face with the back of his arm, glancing across the court. "Yeah, we usually have some watchers for my afternoon court time. Mornings are always closed, but we have afternoon time at least once a week and people come and watch, and I sign some autographs, and selfies of course." He smiled wryly.

I looked up to see several people being escorted past the barriers and across the court by a young, painfully cheerful looking woman. Argel swiped his hair one last time with the towel, pushed himself off the bench and stepped away from the bleachers to meet the oncoming group with a wide smile.

The group gathered around him, some pushing forward eagerly while others hung back shyly, but Argel greeted them all with a friendly smile, chatted briefly, signed whatever item they gave him and posed for pictures. A middle aged couple - two of the first to push forward and get Argel's attention - turned to me when he had signed a few tennis balls and a hat for them and looked at me speculatively.