The Kid From Courage (Home Run Edition)

Chapter 1: A Funny Old Man

"Ladies and gentlemen, the championship match is ready to begin!" Sixteen-year-old Jimmy Ellis was joking, of course. He was always kidding around. He glanced at a make-believe crowd before looking at me. "All set, Bryan?"

"Yeah, sure," I called out. I took a deep breath, trying to relax. C'mon, Bryan, there's no reason to feel any pressure. I wasn't expected to beat the best player at Courage High School. Still, I'd been looking forward to this practice match all week. As a fourteen-year-old freshman, I wanted to see how I compared to the number one player on the team.

Jimmy served, and our practice match was under way. My backhand return landed short, just past the service line. Jimmy quickly moved forward and swung with his big lefty forehand. He hit the ball crosscourt for a winner.

Jimmy Ellis was a great athlete who played many sports. While I worked on my tennis every single day, he only played during tennis season. He just didn't love the game as much as I did. We had become friends a couple of years earlier, when we practiced together at the local club. Even though I played twice as much as he did, I still couldn't catch up to him. Today was no different. As always, Jimmy's power and skill on the tennis court were too much for me to handle. I tried as hard as I could, but he still won easily, 6-1, 6-2.

On the final point of the match, Jimmy hit his best serve of the entire day--he crushed the ball right down the middle for an ace. We both walked up to the net and shook hands. "You were hitting the ball pretty well out there, Bryan. I'm gonna have to watch out for you." Even though Jimmy joked around a lot, he actually sounded like he meant it.

"Thanks, Jimmy, but you were just toying with me out there. Dude, you should really start working hard on your game. If you practiced more, you could be one of the best sixteen-year-olds in the country." It was true, Jimmy had so much potential. But tennis had never been a priority for him.

Jimmy grinned widely, "That's what Coach Anderson keeps saying." He reached into his tennis bag and took out a baseball cap. He carefully put it on, covering up his spiked blonde hair. Jimmy's wild, ever-changing hairstyles were famous at Courage High.

By comparison, I was neat and clean-cut. My short brown hair and white tennis clothes probably made me look a little nerdy. That didn't bother me. What did bother me, however, was my size. I was almost fifteen, and only five-feet-six-inches tall. Most pro tennis players are much bigger and stronger than that. My dad told me not to worry. He said he'd grown six inches right around the time he was my age. He predicted that I would end up being six-feet tall, just like him. I hoped he was right.

Jimmy started to walk off the court. I followed him, and then stopped, "Hey, you wanna keep playing?" I always wanted more tennis, especially after losing a match.

Jimmy seemed to think this was funny. "Naw, dude, I gotta leave. The guys and me are going to the football game. They're picking me up in an hour. Courage High is gonna destroy Lincoln High tonight! You can come with us if you want."

This was a tempting offer. Here it was, only the middle of November, and I had the chance to hang out with Jimmy and his friends. That was pretty cool because older kids at Courage High didn't normally mix with freshmen. Still, I turned him down in favor of some extra practice.

"Um, thanks, it sounds fun, but I need to get a little more tennis in."

"I should have guessed," Jimmy laughed. "Man, I've never seen anyone play as much tennis as you. Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yep." I picked up my racket and waved it in the motion of my forehand. "I don't have your athletic talent, that's for sure. But I'm still gonna try to get one of the top spots on the tennis team." I joked, "The word around school is that the best player on the team has crazy hair and almost never practices."

Jimmy smiled in agreement, "That is so true, Bryan. Okay, I'm out, see you at school tomorrow."

"All right, Jimmy, thanks for playing."

After getting a drink from the water fountain, I sat down and thought about the match. I was very unhappy with the way I'd played. I knew that Jimmy was a more experienced player, especially with a year of high school tennis under his belt. I reminded myself that he was also older than me. None of these things made me feel any better. The bottom line was that I simply didn't get the job done out there.

On a brighter note, I felt good about having a friend as cool as Jimmy. This was important because I was pretty shy. This was my first year of high school and I was trying hard to fit in. I started to think that I should have accepted Jimmy's offer and gone to the football game with the guys. Instead, I grabbed a bucket of balls and practiced my serve.

Later that night, I lay in bed unable to sleep. The defeat I had suffered that afternoon was still in my mind. I should have gone to the net more. My serve was awful. Pictures of my match with Jimmy raced through my head. This wasn't unusual for me. Nothing--absolutely nothing--was more important to me than tennis.

I lived in the state of Kansas, in a small town called Courage. Nothing important ever seemed to happen there. Maybe that's why my dream of becoming a professional tennis player sometimes seemed crazy. Yes, I was ranked in my state--twenty-third in the fourteen and under division. However, I knew that this didn't mean very much. When it came to junior tennis, Kansas wasn't very well known. If I lived in a different state, like California or Florida, I wouldn't even be ranked in the top one hundred.

I sat up in my bed and leaned against the pillow, deep in thought. Tennis is one of the most competitive sports in the world. I wondered if I actually had a chance to make it. Even though I had some doubts, I was certain of one thing--nobody wanted it more than I did. Sure, there were skilled junior players all over the country. They were competing in national tennis tournaments and training with the best coaches in the country. As for me, I lived in the middle of nowhere--in a town so small it only had one movie theater. Still, I was determined that Bryan Berry of Courage, Kansas, would somehow find a way.

I just had to make it. It was fate. Five years ago, I discovered tennis by accident. I found a tennis racket and a can of used balls in a box of Dad's old stuff in our garage. After spending a few hours hitting those yellow balls against our garage door, I was hooked. Brandon, my younger brother, liked basketball and baseball, but tennis became my sport. It changed my life forever.

Tennis had always been popular in Courage. Twelve years earlier, the town had built "The Courage Courts and Recreation Club," a beautiful public tennis club. Right away, it became known to everyone simply as "The Courts." With six tennis courts, a gym, and a pool, this indoor club became very popular. I had practically lived there for the past three years. I went to The Courts every single day after school to play tennis. I usually stayed until I had to be home for dinner. On weekends, if I wasn't in a tournament, I could be found there all day.

In between matches, I spent most of my time in the big lounge area upstairs. That's where everyone hung out. I would watch TV, do my homework, or just listen to the adults talk. Their discussions were usually loud and entertaining. I liked it best when they argued about sports.

I laughed softly as I thought about one of the adults, a funny old man named Henry Johnson. Whenever the conversation turned to tennis, his voice was always the loudest. "Old Man" Johnson had said many times that the champions from his youth were greater than the players of today. His opinions were usually met with laughter.

"Give me a break, Henry!" The men always argued, "Players today hit the ball harder than those past champions could have even dreamed!"

Johnson would usually respond by telling one of his many tennis stories. He liked to speak of the time when A. J. Bradford hit the biggest serve ever at Wimbledon. "It was so fast, nobody even saw the ball!" Johnson would declare with excitement in his voice. He claimed that a big cloud of dust right on the line proved that the ball was good.

Another tale focused on a doubles match that took place back in 1945. The most famous player on the court was Danny Crawford, a superstar at that time. One of the players on the other team was doing a lot of trash talking. Crawford became very annoyed. He warned his opponent to be quiet, but the talk continued. Old Man Johnson said that Crawford finally found a way to shut the guy up--he hit a return of serve so hard, it nailed his opponent square in the stomach!

Although I sort of doubted that Johnson's stories were actually true, I liked hearing them. I sometimes wondered about the old man's past. Rumor had it that he once coached a great young tennis player named Johnny Matthews. Tragically, Matthews died just when he was becoming a star. From what I'd heard, his death was so upsetting to Johnson that he never coached again.

Although Johnson was a harmless old man, it was unclear how much he really knew about tennis. People around The Courts said that he was totally out of touch, maybe even slightly crazy. I had no way of knowing if any of that stuff was true, because Johnson and I had never spoken.

Growing tired, I leaned my head back down on my pillow. I wondered why I was laying awake thinking about Henry Johnson. I certainly had more important things to worry about than a crazy old man who hung around at The Courts.