The Pigeon With the Tennis Elbow Read Online Free Page B

games in a row.
    Then fatigue weakened him too.
Ease up, Kev,
warned his conscience.
Maybe this is exactly what Tommy wants you to do — get allbushed so he can take you to the cleaners in the next three games.
    Kevin listened to his conscience and took it easy. Tommy took the game. 4-all.
    Ginnie clattered down the stands and sat next to Kevin during the one-minute rest period. “You're playing a good game, Kev!”
    “You're just trying to make me feel good. But thanks, anyway,” he said.
    Both boys went into the next game strong. But it was Tommy who won it on a lob over Kevin's head. 5–4, Tommy.
    Just before Kevin began to serve the next game he heard a whisper of wings near him and the next thing he knew Charlie was
     perched on his right shoulder.
    “Charlie!” Kevin cried sharply. “Where have you been?”
    “You need some sound advice, boy, so I came back,” said Charlie into his ear. “You can take that Smith kid if you'll listen
     to old Charlie. Will you listen?”
    “I'm listening, I'm listening!” answered Kevin anxiously. “But hurry, will you? The crowd will wonder what in heck's going
     on!”

    The crowd was already wondering what in heck was going on. A buzzing had started up among them, mixed with a ripple of laughter.
    “You've got to be more aggressive,” advised Charlie in that funny, cooing pigeon voice of his. “Hit the ball behind him. He's
     a poor backhand shot, and that's what you have to work on. O.K.?”
    “O.K. Now get, will you, Charlie, before I'm disqualified for holding up the game?”
    “Attaboy,” said Charlie, starting to lift his wings to take off. “Spunk! That's what I like. See you, boy.”
    Charlie flew off, leaving a very embarrassed Kevin looking after him. Instantly a thunder of applause rose from the fans,
     mixed with a chorus of yells.
    “Who's your friend, Kevin?”
    “Why didn't you give
him
the racket?”
    Then, the inevitable clincher, “Is he your coach, Kevin? Ha! Ha!”
    Man, if I told you he was, you'd die!
    Kevin followed Charlie's advice as well as he could, trying to hit the ball behind Tommy whenever the opportunity arose. But
     his anxiety doomed him. Most of the shots landed either against the net or out of bounds.
    Tommy won the game, and the set.

6
    A FTER THE TEN-MINUTE rest period both boys appeared fresh and full of pep. Kevin wished it was all over with, though. Fresh-looking he might be,
     but his arms and legs felt as if spikes were driven into them.
    He lost the first game by an embarrassingly wide margin; he didn't score a point.
    The next game was better, but Tommy won it. Game-30.
    “I think you're
too
aggressive,” said Ginnie during the one-minute rest period. “You're playing into his hands.”
    There you go,
thought Kevin in utter confusion.
Charlie tells me to be more aggressive and she tells me I'm too aggressive. Maybe I'd be smarter to ignore their advice and
     play my own way.
    Tommy served the third game. Kevin took Ginnie's advice and relaxed a bit. Twice the game went into the advantage stage for
     him, and both times Tommy tied it up. Then Kevin took two points in a row and won it. 2–1, Tommy.
    Kevin won the next game too, not only tying up the score, but proving something he had been told in the process.
Don't be too aggressive. Just hit the ball over the net. Let your opponent drive it back as hard as he wants to. Count on
     him to make the errors.
    He took the game, and finally the set, 6–2.
    He ran over and shook hands with Tommy. Then, as he started off the court amid loud applause from the fans, he heard a sudden
     flutter of wings and there was Charlie, settling on his shoulder.
    “Nice game, Kevie!” said Charlie, ticklingKevin's right ear with the tip of his wing. “You played that last set like your great old uncle used to! You were marvelous,
     boy! Just marvelous!”
    “Thanks, Charlie,” Kevin said, and thought:
Like my great old uncle used to? You sure about that, Charlie? I thought you