Naked Hero - The Journey Away

cut through the tension that existed and give them both an alternative reason for Scott’s non-involvement.
    “I don’t start till two, plenty of time… and I wanted to apologise for yesterday.”
    “No need. I told you I would understand if you decided to back off. And I do - nobody needs that sort of crap getting written about them in the press.”
    Scott nodded. “True. It did affect me – I can’t deny it. I’m not used to that sort of intrusion. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, though. I’m sorry. I let you down.”
    “I’ve had worse,” Lewis said with an ironic laugh. “You should hear my mother when she gets some hassle from the press.”
    Scott flinched at the reference. He could hear his own mother ranting and raving – there was a potential torrent of anguish waiting there to flood out if he wasn’t careful - but he managed to rise above it. “I’m glad it didn’t affect you last night. You did really well. It was as good as anything I’ve seen here this year: as good as Jackson; better than Gonzales.”
    “He let me play my game. That won’t happen tomorrow.”
    There was a hint of self-pity in Lewis’s tone that Scott pounced upon. He spun round and looked at him, placing his hand on the youngster’s shoulder as if to give him a shake. “No, Gonzales won’t let you play your normal game - or he’ll try not to. But that’s what he’ll be expecting - your normal game. You know what to do. Mix it up more. Short balls, bring him in to the net, and make him volley. Not too much on the passing shots - he can’t put them away like you can. Even if he gets lucky and makes more than he misses, it will upset his rhythm. Make him play your game, instead of trying to take him on at his. You can do it.”
    Well this was certainly turning out to be a much needed tonic. Just to see Scott had made Lewis feel so much better - to hear his Southern drawl soothed his troubled soul – that reassuring hand felt so strong on his shoulder, caring and protective, feeding him strength and self-belief. To have his idol’s praise lifted his spirits and made forgiveness easy to find. And the fact that Lee Porter was nowhere to be seen was a blessing, rather than a disappointment, given that Scott was here. “It would be nice to go over it again, though,” he said with a grin. “Mario’s useless at the net: he’s too easy to pass. I need somebody a bit sharper. I see you’re dressed for it.”
    Indeed Scott was. He had come prepared in full tennis gear with rackets in his kit bag. “Then let’s give it a go,” he said, raising his hand to give Lewis’s hair a quick ruffle. “That backhand drop shot - you need to work on that a bit more: too much air on it.”
    “Okay, boss, let’s get started. And thanks! You’re full of surprises. What made you change your mind?”
    “A conscience.”
    A conscience! Now there was a thing. As was that hair ruffle – what was that all about? It felt like there was real affection behind it - kind of parental, and ever so nice. It was suddenly a very happy young man that entered the court for his practice.
    Jim sat on the sidelines with Mike and Mario, allowing Scott to take over the session. There was little that he had to say. He simply watched as Lewis fined tuned the shots - ones that were not alien to him, but rarely used in his repertoire. It was his nature to keep his opponents back, and try to get to the net himself, rather than bring someone in - but Jim saw the lad warm to the new challenge, which he did with determination and a smile on his face. The spark was back. The shots were coming along... as was the belief, which was perhaps the most important thing.
    “He’s working too hard,” said Mike. “It could be a long match tomorrow, and he could run out of steam if it goes to five sets. You need to get him to ease up.”
    “Aye, it’s a risk,” agreed Jim. “But if he can put this together then it won’t go to five sets. He’d probably lose anyway if it did. There’s no point in him trying to outlast Gonzales. This is the way.”
    “Well, it’s your call.”
    Jim smiled – a rare event indeed for the naturally dour Scotsman. “No, it’s not my call. I’m just agreeing with it.”
    And as Jim watched, he wondered what else might end up being agreed to now that Scott Taylor was back in their lives... and Lee Porter, thank God, was nowhere to be seen – a state that Jim hoped would continue in spite of all the help he had