ATP Kindergarten (Chapter 28)
Title: ATP Kindergarten
Main pairings: Djokovic/A. Murray, Gasquet/Gulbis, Nadal/Del Potro, Federer/Roddick
Other characters: Safin, Henman, Ferrero, Tursunov, Wawrinka, Moya
Rating: G
Warning: Possible destruction of innocence
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and this is a fiction.
Summary: The exhibition match between Coach Andy and Marat draws everybody's attention and the loser has a hard time swallowing his loss.
From the previous chapter:
Rafael had noticed that Juan Martin had pretended to be asleep when he had walked into their room to wake him up while Richard had to help Ernests change shirts on court. Mirka had brought her new boyfriend, Stan, to school and the Swiss man had got advice from Andy Roddick about how to approach Richard. Meanwhile, Carlos had suggested to Juan Carlos that he should talk to Marat who had been behaving suspiciously well.
Chapter 28: Winter tournament II
“Rise and shine, little peanut! Isn’t it a wonderful day to cheer for your favorite coach?”
Andy lightly shook Richard’s shoulders, thinking about today’s exhibition match. A week had passed since the winter tournament had started and apart from the singles finals per class and one doubles final, all matches had been finished. Today, he was supposed to be play against Marat Safin to entertain the crowd and hopefully get a donation for the school before the doubles final match took place.
“Hey, you class A finalist, I’m going to eat all of your pancakes, sausages and even the baguettes if you don’t open your eyes right now.”
Apparently, the threat worked as he saw the baby boy open an eye.
“Good morning, Richie.”
“Morning, Coach.” Richard frowned while he wriggled to get out of bed.
“Aww, what’s the matter, sweetheart? Had a bad dream? You should keep a spare racquet next to the bed in case you face monsters in your dreams.”
Richard looked up at the American coach and laughed. “It wasn’t that kind of dream, Coach. I’m not four! I dreamt about you losing to Coach Marat today.”
“What? But that’s not possible.”
Andy clamped his mouth shut. As far as he knew, the boy didn’t have any kind of supernatural ability to dream about the future so there was no need to be alarmed. But it hurt that perhaps Richard subconsciously thought that the unlikeable Russian was going to win.
“Over my dead body.”
Andy mumbled as he watched Richard trot out of the room. He was going to make awesome breakfast - with the help of his boyfriend, just in case something goes wrong - and impress the little boy. He could use all the support he could get against a tough opponent that would gloat in his face if he wins, and Andy knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand it because Marat was the type to gloat until they could get a rematch next year.
“Andy? What’s wrong?”
Roger leaned against the door with his apron tied around his waist. He needed a sous chef and his only candidate looked worried in an empty room.
“Richie thinks that I’ll lose today. He dreamt about it. And, don’t tell me you agree with him.”
It took Roger a couple of seconds to laugh after checking Andy’s face to see if he was serious.
“It was just a dream, you silly. Since when do you believe in dreams?”
“Since I had had dreams of having sex with you before we got together. Think about what we did last night, Rog. I have to say that my dreams came true.”
Even though Roger wasn’t into mushy talk, he had to admit that it was nice to hear such words of love from his boyfriend.
“I’ll make sure you get the appropriate reward if you win today.” Roger said in his best seductive voice and enjoyed the strangled groan of anticipation coming from the randy American.
“Oh noes! You have a sore throat, coach? That can’t be good for today’s match!”
Richard appeared out of nowhere with a cup of milk in his hand and Roger looked at Andy with an innocent face just like his son’s, waiting for an answer.
“Uh, I guess it’s just the cold weather.”
Andy’s lips were forming a smile but his eyes were glaring at Roger who was guilty for making him groan at the wrong time.
“Really? But my bedroom is very warm.” Richard pointed out.
While Roger started to giggle, Andy tried another answer. “Oh, that’s true. It must be the dry air then. You know, when you heat up a room too much, you can get very thirsty.”
“I know that, Coach. But I have two things that help me with dry air as you can see. Daddy changed the filters yesterday so they should be working perfectly!”
The boy pointed at the humidifiers and Andy groaned once more, this time, in frustration.
“Bwahaha. Ah, how I love my super smart boy.”
Roger picked up his son and kissed him on the cheek. It was always so much fun to see his innocent kid unintentionally mess around with his perplexed boyfriend.
“What’s for breakfast today?” Richard asked as his feet touched the floor again.
“Whatever you want, kiddo!” Andy almost yelled, even more determined now to get himself into the boy’s good grace.
“Pancakes and eggs then! Ernie likes to ask me if I had yummy pancakes like him for breakfast.”
“You got it.”
Roger watched the thirty-five year old fly out of the room and land in the kitchen. It was good to have an enthusiastic sous chef.
“Good to see that everybody’s happy today.”
Tim observed with contentment as he looked at the boys in the stands. The students were all gathered in the hall for Marat and Andy’s exhibition match.
Dmitry agreed, “Yeah. They’re kids. They can get over bad stuff so quickly.”
It was one of the aspects that the Russian teacher liked about working with kids. They didn’t hold grudges for long; even a small piece of chocolate or a gentle pat on the head could make them come up with the hugest smile in the world. He believed that there was nothing more catching than a child’s bright smile and he liked to think that it was one of the secrets to his mysteriously young-looking face.
“We have three tournaments a year, but I still find it hard to believe all the drama that happens on and off the court each and every year.”
Tim reminisced about the past seven days. As always, the youngest boys that didn’t have any official match experience had made all sorts of unusual requests. One boy wanted lots of towels while another one preferred to use white towels only. There was even a boy who wanted the physiotherapist, Mario, to keep smiling near the court so that his knees would feel better. Then there was Ernests who had to use the small, movable changing room - just three pieces of wooden boards - which his dad had given him as a gift.
Of course, there was an exception to every law and Tim had been impressed by Marin who had a copy of the thick ATP rule book and an English-Croatian dictionary on his bench. Marin’s mother had briefly spoken to Tim and Teacher Juan Carlos, worried that her son might not be able to make friends because of his ‘not very four year oldish’ behavior, but Juan Carlos had reassured her by pointing out that the school had recently accepted another nerd, Jeremy Chardy, who had happened to be chatting with the Croatian boy while the discussion took place.
Overall, throughout the week, there had been shouts of joy, tears of disappointment, gestures of anger, stares of jealousy, and gasps of awe. Whether the players won or lost, they could feel in their veins that they were born to play tennis.
“You know, our boys are going to rule the world one day.”
Tim had no doubt whatsoever about what he had just said. He loved his job so much, aware of the fact that he was witnessing the making of great future champions. Every year, he received letters and e-mails from graduated students who were having success in the junior world. At times, he would even get messages from other countries’ tennis federations that were pleased with the work that the school had put into their future heroes.
“We surely have some kids that are going to win slams and imprint their names in the history book.”
Juan Carlos was as proud as Tim when it came to their students. He had always been grateful that he was working for this school where the boys had a serious sport to focus on which, in his opinion, made them get into less trouble than students in ordinary schools. Besides, the kids were cute, amenable and fun to deal with, coming from various cultural backgrounds.
Every summer, when they had to let go of the eldest students, he had trouble falling asleep; tears would roll down his cheeks and the boys’ smiling faces would appear on the ceiling. Yet, it was hard not to get attached to those little angels - who didn’t hesitate to change their form into devils at times - and Juan Carlos felt that it was worth teaching them and loving them even though three years were all he could have with them.
While the three teachers enjoyed a proud moment, the boys were busy, getting ready to cheer for Coach Marat and Andy. Gael had offered to draw a line in the middle of the stands and most of the boys had chosen sides while the neutral ones or the confused ones had sit in the middle. Richard was among the confused ones, still not having reached a conclusion despite his hard thinking during the ride to school.
“So who is it going to be?”
Ernests asked, holding a large bowl of popcorn and Karlis in his arms. He had already made the decision and was ready to watch the match. He liked Coach Marat all right but Coach Andy was his favorite coach’s boyfriend and had been incredibly nice to him, and had even given him stuffed animals and yummy sweets.
Richard frowned, not sure why the decision was so hard. He thought that he would naturally choose Coach Andy, given how well the two were getting along these days, but when he thought about Coach Marat, he felt as if he should cheer for the poor lonely coach who used to be much more involved in his life.
“If Coach Andy loses, dad will kiss him. But if Coach Marat loses, who will kiss his pain away?”
Ernests grabbed a handful of popcorn and held it out to his boyfriend. He wasn’t made to answer such difficult questions. He could barely answer the simple math questions that Teacher Juan Carlos gave him.
“Thanks, Ernie.” Giving up to get an answer, Richard took the popcorn instead and saw the two players enter the hall. He was running out of time.
“Are you going to sit in the middle?”
This time, it was Rafael who asked, curious about his friend’s choice. Rafael wasn’t interested in choosing sides but Juan Martin wanted to sit in Marat’s section so that was where he was going to sit. He saw frustration and irritation creep into the Swiss boy’s face and offered, “Why do you even have to choose? Just sit in the middle and cheer for both, no?”
“But Coach Andy wants me to choose him.”
“Then, choose him.”
“But it’s not that simple! Coach Marat talked about how I should do the math between the presents that Coach Andy gave me and the ones that he gave me. That means that he wants me to choose him! And, if I really do the math, it’s going to be him!”
Richard was nervously biting his fingernails when he heard a voice behind him that belonged to his mom’s boyfriend.
“What if you let the left part of your body cheer for Coach Marat and the right one cheer for Coach Andy? We have two hands and feet for a reason, I believe.”
Stan knew that there wasn’t any logic in his suggestion but he was talking to a six year old child. Hopefully, it would work out in his favor.
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
Stan’s face lit up unusually while Rafael’s eyebrows shot up.
‘How’s that different from just sitting in the middle?’ He thought but didn’t say a word. His friend seemed to be considering his new option and he knew that the two needed an opportunity to get along.
“So I sit in the middle?” Richard asked to make sure he understood how it worked.
“Yeah. You sit right on the line that cheerful boy drew, with one arm and one leg on each side.”
Richard and Rafael both laughed at Stan’s choice of words to describe Gael. The French boy had made banners for Coach Marat, had borrowed kitchen utensils from Ivan’s kitchen to make some noise, and had even written the rap of the song that he was currently singing with Novak. He was cheerful indeed.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, and mini-gentlemen, let’s give it up for our two most entertaining coaches, Marat Safin and Andy Roddick!”
As Dmitry introduced the players, Richard quickly settled down on the line, making sure that he was sitting exactly in the middle. Ernests sat next to him, wondering if he would need another bowl of popcorn. The match could be tight and long and he didn’t want to miss a single point because he had to stand in line for more popcorn. The boy glanced over at the side of the court where Mario was in charge of the popcorn stand. Ivan and his wife were too busy with food today that Mario had offered to help with the popcorn while his lover Simone was taking care of the beverages.
“You need something, Ernests?” Stan asked, hoping that he could help out Richard’s boyfriend.
Ernests told him about his concern while he noticed that the two players had started to warm up. If he wanted to get more popcorn before the match, it had to be now.
“But the popcorn won’t be warm if I get them now, meh.”
Ernests pouted until Stan gave him a solution. “If you run out of that bowl and want some more, just let me know. I can get more for you while you keep watching.”
“You can? That would be wonderful!” The boy beamed and Richard liked how Stan made him smile.
“Sure. Same goes for drinks. You too, Richie.”
“Thank you.” Richard answered politely and clapped his hands as Coach Marat stood on the baseline, ready to serve. This was going to be interesting.
‘Please double fault. Please double fault! Just double fault already, Safin!’
Andy was yelling in his mind while his opponent took his sweet time to toss the ball high up in the air over and over again. It was supposed to be a friendly exhibition and the kids seemed to be enjoying Marat annoying the hell out of him, so he shouldn’t be this upset, but Andy was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check. He had lost the first set in a tight tiebreak and now the stupid Russian wouldn’t serve.
“Mr. Umpire, he’s begging for a warning here. The crowd would be so disappointed if this match ends without any warnings.” He looked over at Carlos when Marat spoke up.
“It’s an exho. I’m just being fun. Obviously, he forgot how to be fun.”
“Did not.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did not!”
Carlos gave a warning to both players and Tim wondered if any of the parents would sue the school for setting such a nice example for their kids.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t expect this when you agreed to have both of them on court.” Roger handed some popcorn to the head master whose face was as dark as the prospect of this match ending in peace.
“Everybody said it would be entertaining.” Tim groaned.
“Well, it is. We might get more money than usual thanks to the worried parents.” Roger happily ate more popcorn and smiled at his friend.
“Bah, I suppose you’re right. There’s nothing I can do about it now anyway.”
“Let’s hope for three tight sets. And, be grateful that they’re not swearing at each other… even if their gestures are doing the job instead.” The Swiss coach mumbled as he saw his boyfriend flash his compression shorts at the net after hitting an overhead winner.
“Oh, dear lord.” Tim couldn’t stop using the Lord’s name in vain but he was relieved that Andy had the decency not to flash his naked butt.
“What a fun match!” Someone from the crowd shouted and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. As far as the boys enjoyed it, he could hope that everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, everything went fine for everyone else but Andy as the clock showed him that he had been on court for the past hour and a half. He had won the second set with relative ease but was down a break in the third.
‘I refuse to lose to that bonehead!’
He gulped down his sports drink and looked over at the stands to see if Richard was still cheering for both of them.
‘The bonehead must’ve said something to him. Otherwise, he would’ve been cheering for me with his whole heart and body!’
“Time.”
Carlos’ voice had been amazingly calm throughout this nasty battle and Andy appreciated it. It had a soothing effect on him and he didn’t want to end up making Tim upset when he was supposed to help out the school.
‘Come on, Andy. Let’s break him.’
Andy walked to his side of the baseline with a death grip on his racquet. He was going to prove to his opponent that he could still play incredible tennis and get a chance to beam in Marat’s face. Besides, he didn’t forget about Roger’s promise from this morning. He was dying to find out what the appropriate reward would be.
“Good job, boys!”
As the winner of the exhibition match, Marat stepped on court to hand the doubles trophy to the winners Jamie and Sam. Andy, the loser of the exhibition match - Marat would like to emphasize - had already given the smaller trophy to the runner-ups Novak and Andy and was sulking behind them.
“Isn’t it a lovely day to win?” He asked Sam who nodded with a big smile on his face and didn’t forget to glance over at Andy. The American had broken him back at the decisive set but he had managed to pull out a win with another nicely played tie break.
“Ah, I guess we can call ourselves the kings of tie breaks.” The Russian winner patted Jamie on the head and stepped aside. He had to think of a good way to celebrate today’s victory.
Meanwhile, Andy was analyzing the match in his head, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He couldn’t look at where Roger and Richard were sitting, afraid that he would see disappointment in their eyes.
After the match, he had hurried back to his flat, desperate to lock himself in his room where nobody would talk about how he had lost to Marat. He had kept thinking that it was no big deal but it didn’t help him to get over the fact that he had been defeated by the Russian. He knew that he was the one who was currently enjoying his life with Roger and Richard but it seemed that somewhere inside his mind, there were worries such as ‘What if they miss Marat every once in a while?’, ‘How can I be sure that Marat won’t get back in their life once I go back to the States?’.
With a heavy sigh, he wished that the victory ceremony would end as soon as possible so that he could go back to his hiding spot.
“It’s okay, Coach Andy. Life sucks sometimes.” The Scottish Andy turned around and patted his favorite coach on the forearm.
“Yeah, he’s right. We played awesome today but still lost. That’s tennis.” Novak agreed and the American coach had to laugh at the five year olds’ words.
“We wanted to win so badly but it’s okay. At least, we have each other.” Andy kissed Novak on the cheeks while Tim said a few words to the crowd.
“Good for you guys.”
The grown-up Andy chuckled and then realized that he himself had two adorable guys to love.
‘They’re still going to love me. I mean, Roger still sleeps with me even when he ate those deadly cookies.’
Swallowing his worries and fears, he brought himself to glance at the stands and couldn’t believe his eyes.
‘I thought Richie didn’t like making banners!’
His favorite little boy was holding up a banner that read ‘We still love you, Coach Andy’ with Ernests’ help and Roger was sending him a smile that made his heart beat again.
“Love you too.” He whispered towards the loves of his life and finally hung a smile on his face. He didn’t feel like a loser anymore.
“You have plans for tonight?”
Juan Carlos turned around as he heard Marat’s voice behind him. He had just finished waving goodbye to his students in front of the gate.
“It depends on why you ask.”
“Well, I’d like to thank my supporters by buying them a nice drink.” Marat smiled.
“I thought you were running low on vodka money.”
“But I can’t go home without celebrating. Did you see Roddick’s face? Ahaha…”
Juan Carlos chuckled at the childish expression on the Russian’s face. This was the Marat Safin that he had been used to.
“Glad to know that you’re back to your childish self. But who said I supported you?”
“You were sitting in my section with Tim.”
“There weren’t any seats left in Andy’s section.”
“Ah, you can’t fool me like that. I asked Tim to join us but he said he had a dinner meeting with one of the sponsors.”
“Who else is coming then?”
“Mario, Simone, Ivan and Aida. Carlos already had plans with Rafa.”
Juan Carlos thought about the offer. He had had stayed in school for such a long time that he felt as if he had almost forgot how to be social outside the school.
“Okay. I’m in. Let me go take a shower and change though.” The Spanish teacher pointed at his T-shirt which had stains of what looked like juice and soup.
“You know, it’s hot to see you so dedicated to the boys.”
Marat’s eyes didn’t leave the shirt and Juan Carlos snorted, covering himself with a jacket.
“You don’t need to feed me words of compliment, Marat. I already said I’m in. Text me when you’ve fixed the time for dinner.”
The teacher let out a small yawn and headed to the dormitory. He couldn’t wait to get under the hot streams of water. It had been an interesting yet tiresome day and he could use some rest.