Naked Hero - The Journey Away

at Frank Morris, struggling to control the loathing he felt; then turned again to the man he’d thought was a friend, making a final plea. “Cliff, are you seriously going to sit there and condone those words with your silence?”
    He received no response.
    “This is a very sad day. You’ve shown your colours, and they are dark indeed. I’ll bid you good day,” said Jim as he stood to leave.
    He was halted by Frank Morris. “A moment before you go, Jim. As I said, there was something I needed to speak to you about. The ATP has reached its conclusions regarding Lewis and the Sydney Open. We find him guilty of bringing the name of the sport into disrepute, and of deliberately under performing in a match. There will be a fine of fifty-thousand US dollars, and his prize money as a first round loser will be forfeited.”
    Jim was exasperated, and shouted out his reaction. “That’s a ridiculous sum, and you know it’s way out of proportion to what happened! He can bear it, obviously. But it’s a clear message to him, and to the rabble you seem intent on gathering for his match on Monday. When will this be announced?”
    “It already has been,” replied Morris.
    “You sanctimonious hypocritical bastard!”
    Jim left the room without any further courtesies. There had been few on offer throughout the meeting, despite Frank Morris’s suggestion to the contrary, so no reason to end with any. He had failed in attempting to protect his boy, as he had failed on a previous occasion. Then he had no warning of what was to happen, but it was still a failure – an instance where his refusal to acknowledge Lewis’s sexuality had resulted in blindness, when a more enlightened man would have seen what was coming. It still stung. He had armed Lewis with shots to beat his opponents, but had given him no weapons to combat a hostile crowd.
    As he made his way out of Melbourne Park, Jim wondered how many more times he would fail Lewis. He had always thought of Cliff Drysdale as his friend. They had played together on the tour, in an age when friendship with opponents was the norm. He had been certain that a favour could be called on. What prejudice must lie there for it to be so cruelly denied? Perhaps the same prejudices that nested in Jim Murdoch’s heart if you were to cut that deep and look?
    That was an awkward question that needed to be faced, but would have to happen later. Jim knew he had to pull himself together and be pro-active. He needed to act, and warn Lewis about what probably lay in store for him on Monday. But simply warning him was not enough - he needed to prepare him, and that would not be easy. Jim had every confidence that Lewis could tough it out on court with the best of them physically. But there was an emotional frailty which put into question his mental toughness. No opponent had ever been able to expose it - there were rules which protected him against such gamesmanship. But the frailty was there and it had cost Lewis in the past, both on and off court. Jim wondered if the youngster had matured enough to deal with another hostile crowd – if he could harden himself against the jibes, against whatever they might throw at him, and play his game regardless. He hoped it was the case, but Jim doubted it. There were players who thrived on that sort of adversity, turning it to their advantage. But Lewis wasn’t one of them - it was just too personal for the lad.
    It was half an hour later when Jim arrived at the Langham Hotel. He went straight to the bar and ordered a double malt whisky and iced water in a separate glass. Jim enjoyed the odd dram of an evening, but rarely touched the stuff in the afternoon. He was in serious need of one now though to calm his anger over the previous meeting and steady his resolve for the next. A quiet table was found where Jim considered the glasses in front of him. It was only one sip of the whisky he took, despite the urge to sink it all, embrace the burn and the numbness it would bring. He knew he needed to keep a clear head though, so he drank only the water thereafter, whilst he waited for the man he had arranged to meet. The rest of the whisky could sit in reserve. It may yet have to be called on. He checked his watch. ‘Five more minutes - that’s if he comes,’ mused Jim. ‘But he did agree to see me. That must mean something. Will he agree to more, though? Is he the man that Lewis needs?’

Chapter 16
    Scott Taylor checked his watch as he strode through