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I prepared to return her serve and situated myself a solid foot behind the baseline, with my legs straddling the sideline. I knew she tended to go out wide on the deuce court, so I started to lean that way as she tossed the ball high in the air.

Her toss was elegant, like the way a ballerina would serve.

Graceful arm extended skyward, ball rolling off long fingers as though she was inviting it into the air not two feet above her head.

She blasted one down the T, which I managed to get a racket on. The ball floated deep enough into her court for me to have a chance in this first point, but her next shot pinned me in the backhand corner and she followed behind it for an easy put-away.

She won the first game at love and had a smirk on her face as we changed ends.

I responded in kind and held serve and then she held serve and this went on for eight games, until I broke for a 5–4 lead.

For some reason, I tightened up at this point, double-faulted twice during my service game, and was broken right back.

She took the tiebreaker.

We were playing a best of five sets, so I wasn’t worried. I figured I’d let her win the first set to get her hopes up, get her overconfident.

Shortly after this first set, my chest began to hurt and my limbs tingled. I lost feeling in my right foot, which had been broken by my friend during a friendly game of touch football.

I tried not to think of my friend during the match. I knew he’d be fine, more or less. I’d given him a certain freedom of movement, so he could attend to function and need, eat food, drink water, relieve himself, et cetera.

There was no way he could do himself in, I don’t think, not that he ever indicated an interest in doing so.

We’d never discussed the nuances of defenestration.

I had him chained to a radiator and reminded him that if he tried anything, he probably wouldn’t live to regret it, but his sister would.

I think I kissed him on the lips after I said this.

I thought it an effective maneuver.

I sometimes wear a headband around my head, but this day I tied myself up in a black bandanna. Years ago people would talk about that black bandanna, how it, along with my imposing figure, could intimidate anyone in the world.

The second set was back and forth. The games were all well contested and several lasted a great long while. I believe three of them featured multiple deuces, one lasting until a ninth such deuce, which mercifully ended when I struck a service winner that handcuffed my friend’s sister and rendered her helpless.

There were any number of long rallies that concluded with someone doing something spectacular, an impossible get, a well disguised drop shot, et cetera.

The crowd would explode whenever something like this occurred.

To be fair, it seemed as if the crowd leaned toward my friend’s sister in terms of support. This was probably due to the size differential, as most root for the underdog. She is no more than 5′ 2″, maybe 110 pounds if she’s retaining water.

She’d prompt the loudest ovations, which were either spurned on or accentuated by her joyful exultations.

Whenever she did something dramatic, she’d yell, Come on.

I never speak while on court, as I find such behavior coarse and vulgar.

I can’t say I recognized anyone in the crowd, which continued to gather as the match went on. You’d think I’d have seen someone I knew, as I’d spent any number of hours at my window, looking out and down at my neighbors.

I’d recently purchased binoculars so I could see even more, so I could look into the windows of the surrounding buildings. So far I haven’t seen anything worth noting.

I haven’t learned a damned thing.

I did notice that the courts emptied of other players as our match went on. Most of these players took a seat and looked on in awe, I’m sure.

I took this second set 7–5 and everyone had to settle in for a long afternoon.

During the changeover, my opponent called for the trainer. Apparently, she was complaining of a sore shoulder. I overheard her saying something about a rotator cuff, but I suggested it could be a torn labrum. I told her I’d once suffered a torn labrum. I said, More often than not it requires surgery.

I told her if she decided to retire that it would count as a loss. I said, I’m sure your brother will be proud either way.

I’m not above gamesmanship.

By this time I could feel the heat and the effect it was having on my body. I had bouts of dizziness every few minutes. I had to change my shirt for the fifth time. I ate a banana. I drank coconut water. I liked to have died.

I admonished one of the ball boys for not properly holding the umbrella over me, as the lower part of my left leg was in the sun and felt as if it were baking.

My friend’s sister started taking something off her first serve on account of her shoulder problem and I was able to take advantage of this. I stepped into her first serve repeatedly and gained the advantage on most points from here on out.