Naked Hero - The Journey Away

that here in Sydney of all places such a homophobic piece could be published.
    He thought again to the telephone conversation he had with Lewis. How isolated the boy was in terms of his sexuality. He had turned to Lee with his troubles concerning his mother. Where would he turn to on Monday if it all got out of hand? No, not if - something was bound to happen. The only question mark was over how Lewis would cope. Win or lose, the crowd would undoubtedly get to him. He might be able to hide it from those that observed, but they would get to him, Lee was certain of it. What was less clear to Mr. Porter was what he should now do given the knowledge and insights he had garnered concerning the complex character that was Lewis Macleod.
    He took out his mobile and brought up a number – a number that obligingly had not been withheld when a call was received a few days ago. His thumb hovered over the call button, but that was as far as it got.
    ‘Too rash,’ thought Lee. Then he thought some more. He thought for the next two days.

Chapter 18
    It was the opening day of the Australian Open, and Scott Taylor had just completed his first match as a commentator for ABC. It ha d been a fairly routine affair in the Hisense Arena - Gonzales winning without too much effort in straight sets. Scott had arranged not to commentate on the next match, promising instead to do a roundup of the other matches which were taking place on the outside courts. There was one in particular that he wanted to see, and Ben Harding, the production manager responsible for ABC’s coverage of the Open, was in full agreement that it could be a very interesting encounter: Court Five, where Lewis Macleod, the ex-Wimbledon champion, would open his campaign against an Australian qualifier. Ben had pressed for the match to be televised as he thought that it would prove highly entertaining, and would attract a lot of interest back home in the States, given the pre-match hype that the Aussie press had treated everyone to. But he had been met with strong resistance. Having one of his top commentators witness the match was the best that he could do.
    It was a strange experience for Scott as he walked through the grounds on route to the court. He had never felt this type of freedom at the tournaments before. Security had always been on hand, and he had been ushered around, rarely encountering any of the public. There were people who still recognised him, but few bothered him in any way. Just the one autograph had been asked for. So quickly forgotten! But that was fine for Scott who had always guarded his privacy.
    The organisers were predicting record attendance figures for the tournament, and it appeared to Scott that they were off to a flying start. The place was heaving with humanity - more like a carnival than a tennis tournament. As he struggled through the crowds, he had the impression that every nation on earth had a delegation representing it. Youngsters mainly, casually dressed for the hot conditions, broadcasting their patriotism with painted faces and ruckus singing. The American flag was most in evidence - Jackson supporters were everywhere, still celebrating their countryman’s victory earlier in the day.
    When he reached the court, Scott waited for a change of ends in the match being played before approaching the security officer at the gate of the ground. There was a lengthy queue of boisterous fans waiting to gain access, and there were calls of objection to what appeared to be queue jumping: good humoured in the main part, but not entirely. Too much amber nectar perhaps was lending a more sinister tone to a few of the comments. Scott chose to ignore them as he showed his credentials to the official. A media pass in itself would not have gained him automatic entry. A quota had been set for coverage and it had been long since reached. But Scott was an ex-champion of the tournament, and had licence to go where he pleased. He and he alone gained entry at the change of ends and joined the small crew of reporters at a corner of the ground.
    As he surveyed the stands surrounding the court, Scott was struck by how animated the crowd were. It was an unusual scene for a match that didn’t involve a top player, or a local favourite. He remembered that Melbourne was always colourful and lively, but the fans had been extremely good natured. This, however, had an edge to it, something that he had never encountered in his own playing days. As the players