(no subject)
The Hardest Goodbye (Is Hello)
by almitablanca
~
When he's little, one of the first things Jurgen learns is that when other people shake hands they aren't overcome with terrible visions like he is. When he's six, he's introduced to an uncle on his mother's side, and they shake hands like grown-ups. Jurgen feels quite grown-up and important until he sees his uncle dying in a hospital, and the nightmare haunts him for days and days.
He ends up touching the hand of one of his classmates on his first day of school, and he sees her tear-streaked face, probably sixteen or seventeen, begging him to stay. He leaves her standing there without a word.
That vision leaves him so shaken that he doesn't speak to her for the next three years.
It takes him a while to figure it out, but he eventually puts the pieces together, so to speak. Every time he shakes someone's hand, or sometimes even when he touches the back of someone's hand, he sees the last time he's ever going to speak to them. Every hello is already matched to a goodbye, some more painful than others.
He spends a lot of years trying to avoid touching people just so he won't have to see, especially after saying goodbye to his uncle in the hospital and breaking up with his first girlfriend--aged sixteen--to seriously pursue his tennis career.
The thing about interacting with other human beings, though, is that touch is so very important that you can't really avoid it without being labelled a weirdo or a host of other, all together more unpleasant names, especially when you're a somewhat famous tennis player.
So he learns to deal with it. Most of the time, it's not so bad. (Because most of the people he meets are just passing through, so to speak.) With tournament directors, he sees pleasant goodbyes in a week or a year or even a couple of years, strictly professional relationships. With most fans, it can be hard to tell where the hello ends and the goodbye begins sometimes. With other players and coaches, it's harder, but they're still mostly professional goodbyes, filled with respect and admiration more than anything else.
So most of the time, he can stop himself from going crazy. It's manageable, or as manageable as anything like this could ever be.
When he first meets Julian, he's still young enough that he's avoiding any unnecessary touching. Julian raises an eyebrow but seems to write it off as Jurgen being weird about germs or some shit. So it's a couple of months before Julian touches the back of his hand for long enough that Jurgen gets a glimpse of the end. There's nothing particularly disturbing this time around, just a promise to meet up soon and discuss old times. In it, Julian is old enough that it's probably after one or both of them have retired.
It's not until their partnership implodes in a mess of accusation and recrimination that Jurgen realizes something important: just because he knows how things are eventually going to end doesn't mean he knows how they're going to be.
The saddest thing about the whole situation is that it's taken him this long to realize that.
~
The first time he's introduced to Philipp Petzschner, he doesn't really think all that much about the German. They're both at some tournament function, and the director introduces them when he realizes they've never met before. Philipp merely nods politely at him, and Jurgen nods back, glad that he won't know how his relationship with at least one person in the room tonight will end.
He doesn't see Philipp--Petzsche--all that much for a little while because Petzsche is playing mostly Challenger level events while Jurgen occupies himself on the ATP Tour. The results don't always come, but that's something he's come to expect--even if he doesn't much like it--over the course of his tennis career.
At the same time, he's playing doubles with a different partner almost every week, using it mainly as a way to hone his singles skills, not that he's noticing any real effect.
And then Petzsche is there again. Kohli introduces them at the USO players' party and then casually mentions that Petzsche is looking for a Tour-level doubles partner. "You two should give it a go," he says and then heads off to hit on Ana Ivanovic even though he hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell.
They make awkward small talk for a couple of minutes, mostly about Petzsche's successes on the Challenger Tour, Jurgen's goals for next season, and Kohli's chances with half the WTA Tour.
"Look," Philipp finally says, obviously tired of making small talk. "I'm looking for someone who understands that singles is my priority right now, but who's still willing to seriously commit to doubles whenever possible."
And that's basically exactly what Jurgen's looking for in a partner; he says as much and gets a grin in response. "We could try it for a couple of tournaments just to see if it'll work," Jurgen offers. "Starting next year, of course." It's not like he has a permanent partner right now, but there's something that seems fitting about starting a new partnership in the new season.
"Sure," Petzsche agrees, holding out his hand to shake. Jurgen hesitates for half a second because it seems like bad luck to start something knowing how it's going to end.
Philipp raises his eyebrows a little at the hesitation, so Jurgen steels himself and takes the proffered hand.
For the first time in his entire life, he doesn't get an image so much as a feeling: an almost unbearable wave of sadness and loss.
Jurgen's not quite sure how he stays standing in the face of such a strong feeling, but he manages it somehow. He briefly considers telling Petzsche that he's changed his mind, that Petzsche should find a different partner.
"Are you okay?" Petzsche asks, concern lacing his tone.
Jurgen pastes a fake smile on his face. "Yeah, fine," he mumbles. "There was just a moment where I wasn't feeling well."
"You want me to get someone?" Petzsche asks. "I think there's a couple of trainers around here somewhere."
"No, I'm good. I'm fine now," Jurgen mumbles.
"Okay. Then I'm going to go and find my coach," Petzsche returns, and Jurgen sees his window of opportunity to back out of this partnership closing rapidly.
And a part of him does want to pull out, to try and avoid that unimaginable, unbearable pain.
There's a larger part of him, however, that's learned through long, painful experience that the more painful the end, the more meaningful the relationship preceding it.
"Wait," he calls, and Petzsche turns to look at him, confusion written on his face.
"You should take my number," Jurgen says. "So we can figure out where our schedules cross next year."
Philipp grins at that. "Yeah, sure," he agrees and then rattles off his mobile number. Jurgen punches it into the mobile he fumbles out of his pocket.
"I'll text you in a couple of days," Jurgen promises.
"I'm looking forward to it," Petzsche says. He pauses for a second. "I think we can be great together, Jurgen."
Jurgen doesn't really need to think of an answer to that. "I know we will be," he agrees with a smile. "I'll let you get back to your coach."
Petzsche grins at that and gives him a little wave.
As soon as Petzsche is gone, Jurgen lets out a sigh. He just hopes that this is going to be worth it.
fin.
Notes
1. Maybe not so much a secret talent as a secret gift, but once the idea had occurred to me, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Otherwise, this fic is mostly a response on my part to the apparent dissolution of the Melzer/Petzschner doubles partnership.
2. I have no clue if Jurgen and Philipp agreed to form a partnership at the US Open players' party. Basically, everything about this fic is an invention on my part.
3. I also don't know the particulars of how Jurgen's first partnership with Julian Knowle ended, but I can tell you that they played several tournaments together at the end of the 2013 season, so it was either amicable or they've since patched up the relationship.
by almitablanca
~
When he's little, one of the first things Jurgen learns is that when other people shake hands they aren't overcome with terrible visions like he is. When he's six, he's introduced to an uncle on his mother's side, and they shake hands like grown-ups. Jurgen feels quite grown-up and important until he sees his uncle dying in a hospital, and the nightmare haunts him for days and days.
He ends up touching the hand of one of his classmates on his first day of school, and he sees her tear-streaked face, probably sixteen or seventeen, begging him to stay. He leaves her standing there without a word.
That vision leaves him so shaken that he doesn't speak to her for the next three years.
It takes him a while to figure it out, but he eventually puts the pieces together, so to speak. Every time he shakes someone's hand, or sometimes even when he touches the back of someone's hand, he sees the last time he's ever going to speak to them. Every hello is already matched to a goodbye, some more painful than others.
He spends a lot of years trying to avoid touching people just so he won't have to see, especially after saying goodbye to his uncle in the hospital and breaking up with his first girlfriend--aged sixteen--to seriously pursue his tennis career.
The thing about interacting with other human beings, though, is that touch is so very important that you can't really avoid it without being labelled a weirdo or a host of other, all together more unpleasant names, especially when you're a somewhat famous tennis player.
So he learns to deal with it. Most of the time, it's not so bad. (Because most of the people he meets are just passing through, so to speak.) With tournament directors, he sees pleasant goodbyes in a week or a year or even a couple of years, strictly professional relationships. With most fans, it can be hard to tell where the hello ends and the goodbye begins sometimes. With other players and coaches, it's harder, but they're still mostly professional goodbyes, filled with respect and admiration more than anything else.
So most of the time, he can stop himself from going crazy. It's manageable, or as manageable as anything like this could ever be.
When he first meets Julian, he's still young enough that he's avoiding any unnecessary touching. Julian raises an eyebrow but seems to write it off as Jurgen being weird about germs or some shit. So it's a couple of months before Julian touches the back of his hand for long enough that Jurgen gets a glimpse of the end. There's nothing particularly disturbing this time around, just a promise to meet up soon and discuss old times. In it, Julian is old enough that it's probably after one or both of them have retired.
It's not until their partnership implodes in a mess of accusation and recrimination that Jurgen realizes something important: just because he knows how things are eventually going to end doesn't mean he knows how they're going to be.
The saddest thing about the whole situation is that it's taken him this long to realize that.
~
The first time he's introduced to Philipp Petzschner, he doesn't really think all that much about the German. They're both at some tournament function, and the director introduces them when he realizes they've never met before. Philipp merely nods politely at him, and Jurgen nods back, glad that he won't know how his relationship with at least one person in the room tonight will end.
He doesn't see Philipp--Petzsche--all that much for a little while because Petzsche is playing mostly Challenger level events while Jurgen occupies himself on the ATP Tour. The results don't always come, but that's something he's come to expect--even if he doesn't much like it--over the course of his tennis career.
At the same time, he's playing doubles with a different partner almost every week, using it mainly as a way to hone his singles skills, not that he's noticing any real effect.
And then Petzsche is there again. Kohli introduces them at the USO players' party and then casually mentions that Petzsche is looking for a Tour-level doubles partner. "You two should give it a go," he says and then heads off to hit on Ana Ivanovic even though he hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell.
They make awkward small talk for a couple of minutes, mostly about Petzsche's successes on the Challenger Tour, Jurgen's goals for next season, and Kohli's chances with half the WTA Tour.
"Look," Philipp finally says, obviously tired of making small talk. "I'm looking for someone who understands that singles is my priority right now, but who's still willing to seriously commit to doubles whenever possible."
And that's basically exactly what Jurgen's looking for in a partner; he says as much and gets a grin in response. "We could try it for a couple of tournaments just to see if it'll work," Jurgen offers. "Starting next year, of course." It's not like he has a permanent partner right now, but there's something that seems fitting about starting a new partnership in the new season.
"Sure," Petzsche agrees, holding out his hand to shake. Jurgen hesitates for half a second because it seems like bad luck to start something knowing how it's going to end.
Philipp raises his eyebrows a little at the hesitation, so Jurgen steels himself and takes the proffered hand.
For the first time in his entire life, he doesn't get an image so much as a feeling: an almost unbearable wave of sadness and loss.
Jurgen's not quite sure how he stays standing in the face of such a strong feeling, but he manages it somehow. He briefly considers telling Petzsche that he's changed his mind, that Petzsche should find a different partner.
"Are you okay?" Petzsche asks, concern lacing his tone.
Jurgen pastes a fake smile on his face. "Yeah, fine," he mumbles. "There was just a moment where I wasn't feeling well."
"You want me to get someone?" Petzsche asks. "I think there's a couple of trainers around here somewhere."
"No, I'm good. I'm fine now," Jurgen mumbles.
"Okay. Then I'm going to go and find my coach," Petzsche returns, and Jurgen sees his window of opportunity to back out of this partnership closing rapidly.
And a part of him does want to pull out, to try and avoid that unimaginable, unbearable pain.
There's a larger part of him, however, that's learned through long, painful experience that the more painful the end, the more meaningful the relationship preceding it.
"Wait," he calls, and Petzsche turns to look at him, confusion written on his face.
"You should take my number," Jurgen says. "So we can figure out where our schedules cross next year."
Philipp grins at that. "Yeah, sure," he agrees and then rattles off his mobile number. Jurgen punches it into the mobile he fumbles out of his pocket.
"I'll text you in a couple of days," Jurgen promises.
"I'm looking forward to it," Petzsche says. He pauses for a second. "I think we can be great together, Jurgen."
Jurgen doesn't really need to think of an answer to that. "I know we will be," he agrees with a smile. "I'll let you get back to your coach."
Petzsche grins at that and gives him a little wave.
As soon as Petzsche is gone, Jurgen lets out a sigh. He just hopes that this is going to be worth it.
fin.
Notes
1. Maybe not so much a secret talent as a secret gift, but once the idea had occurred to me, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Otherwise, this fic is mostly a response on my part to the apparent dissolution of the Melzer/Petzschner doubles partnership.
2. I have no clue if Jurgen and Philipp agreed to form a partnership at the US Open players' party. Basically, everything about this fic is an invention on my part.
3. I also don't know the particulars of how Jurgen's first partnership with Julian Knowle ended, but I can tell you that they played several tournaments together at the end of the 2013 season, so it was either amicable or they've since patched up the relationship.