Naked Hero - The Journey Away

play it down for today – make some excuse as to why you’re not at this afternoon’s practice. We’ve got more than enough to contend with as it is. Let me know if you change your mind about tomorrow, though... You know, you seemed happy, Scott, working with him. It looked like you were enjoying it. The coaching that is. More interesting for you than commentating, I’d say. Something to think about for the future maybe - obviously not with Lewis, but there are plenty of others that would welcome your input. No one would appreciate it as much, though - or achieve as much as a consequence. Thanks for letting me know. Good day.”
    ***
    “Is it because of this?” Lewis asked, tossing the newspaper aside. Word had reached him whilst chilling by the pool, and he’d scanned through the article before Jim came along with the news about today’s practice. “All they’ve said is that he was seen out with me, chaperoned by a couple of lesbians. What’s the problem with that? It doesn’t make him a fucking poof now, does it?”
    “He’s got other commitments today! I’m sure it’s no big deal.”
    Lewis shook his head and gave his coach a wry smile. “You’re a terrible liar, Jim Murdoch... But thanks for trying.”
    Secrets and lies – they were never Jim’s strong point. So he gave up the subterfuge without much of a fight. “All right – so maybe there’s more of a problem. But I’m sure he’ll come round, Lewis. I’ll speak to him again later, once he’s had time to think it over a bit more.”
    “No, leave it, Jim,” was Lewis’s view. “Scott’s made his mind up. I kind of expected this. I didn’t say... I suppose I hoped it would go away. But I saw it yesterday on the practice court. He was uncomfortable. I thought it was because I made a bit of a tit of myself over dinner on Saturday. But deep down I knew there was a bigger issue.” The Herald was picked back up and the photograph looked at. “He certainly wasn’t very happy when this was taken. No, not one little bit.” Lewis absorbed Scott’s angst and felt his own hurt, then resigning himself to the inevitable he tossed it all away and confided in his best ally. “Oh, well... It was all going to end soon anyway. Just the Open, that was all. He’s probably not going to do any more commentating work - he told me that. So we were unlikely to see him again... It’s strange - I had this idea that he might change his mind, though... you know, carry on commentating for ABC. Then he would be at all the big tournaments we’d go to - the slams for sure, and maybe some more - and he would have been there to help out in the same way he’s helped here. Silly of me! Oh well - I’ll just have to make do with you, Jim.” Lewis smiled at his coach, and patted him on the back to assure him it was no put down then added, “We’ve won one on our own, and we can do it again.”
    “Aye, Lewis, of course we can.”
    “He did help, though. He never wanted anything, did he?”
    “No.”
    “We should send him something, a wee thank you: a bunch of flowers to his box tonight – maybe delivered by one of Lee’s scantily dressed lads. I’m sure he’d see the joke.”
    Jim laughed, helping Lewis with the brave face he was putting on. “Maybe not, Lewis,” he advised, although the devil in him thought it was no less than what Scott deserved.
    “Aye, maybe not,” Lewis agreed. “But we’ll get him something, eh? I do want to thank him for what he’s done - show him there are no hard feelings, which there aren’t.”
    “I’ll ask Fiona to pick something up.”
    Lewis shook his head. “No, I’ll get it myself. Effort deserves a bit of effort in return.”
    “Are you sure you don’t want me to speak to him again. We could do with his help tomorrow, if nothing else.”
    Lewis shook his head adamantly. “No thanks, Jim. Let him decide for himself. If he turns up tomorrow then all very well, but I won’t expect him, and nor should you... When are we leaving for the practice today?”
    “Another hour yet, Lewis - I’ve arranged for Mario to be there.”
    “Fine! I’ll be ready.”
    Alone again, Lewis absorb the blow – he knew it was coming, but it still hurt like hell, particularly as he’d stupidly buffered himself by blinkering his eyes in the silly fantasy of platonic friendship that he’d outlined to Jim. That was daft – an extension of the rant he’d blurted out over dinner at Serendipity – a straw he’d clutched