ability to see what hearing people do not, an eerie sense of knowing when to take risks and which shots to execute, a frightening intuitive intimacy with the entire court and how to make use of it and where to be at all times and where to make his opponent be.
It is a sense only special people are born with.
La vita è strana, life is funny, Giglio is thinking as he and Ugo wrap up their hit. Here we are, living in an age where technological advances are astounding: We’ve put a man and a woman on Mars, surgeons are performing brain implants, we can see each other as we speak on our TelevideoPhones. And yet there’s still no progress on helping deaf people overcome their handicap. But…perhaps everything happens for a reason? Perhaps, were he a hearing person, Ugo would not have developed this special ability. And who knows? Perhaps he would not have been happier than he is now and has always seemed to be.
* * *
Fifteen-year-old Ugo Bellezza continues to turn tennis heads, reaching the finals of this preparatory event in Barcelona. But now an upset is brewing, and he is mired in a struggle against an eighteen-year-old who is ranked number three in the Juniors behind Ugo and Jack—the talented Frenchman from Brittany, Tristan Corbière.
The young man from Roscoff—a remote town on the northern coast of Finistère and just east of the tip of France’s nose—has done his homework and, so far, figured out a way to blunt the aggressive, thinking style of the Florentine. He has realized, early on, that any serious competitor will try to take advantage of his opponent’s weakness, and in order to profit from Ugo’s deafness he has concentrated on disguising his shots, on keeping them on his racquet for as long as possible, on not telegraphing anything, especially his drop shot. And since he knows that Ugo depends entirely on visual cues in order to anticipate shots, his strategy has until now, through nearly two sets, perplexed the Italian youngster and thrown him completely off his game.
Devo migliorare, Ugo is thinking as he takes a swig from his bottle of high-energy Agua del Cid on his seat during a changeover. I need to get better. I’m down 6-0, 5-1. Okay, so how’d I get here? Well, this guy is tough, I give him credit for that. But like Giglio always tells me, his good play will make mine better.
Ugo looks at Giglio, seated by his side. (The rules were changed in 2027—the sole exception being the always-reactionary Wimbledon—when the WTA realized that Davis Cup had it right all along and that having coaching was more exciting and the player had to win it on the court anyway and why not allow a coach there in the chair on the sidelines, since every other major sport except for golf allowed coaches to give input during timeouts or on the bench?) Mentor and protégé exchange loving glances.
Giglio makes the sign for deaf (he touches his index finger first to his mouth, then to his ear)and then for zero (he makes a big O with both hands, then pulls them apart with each hand thrusting out, all ten fingers separated). Ugo understands instantly: “You are deaf. So what? That is nothing .” He knows by now that adversity is a built-in part of tennis and of life, and that his deafness is a major obstacle and really una metafora for adversity. How to react to adversity is the key. So when it presents itself, what will you do? Giglio is saying that this obstacle is not a problem, but instead it is a motivator, just like being behind.
But despite the best-laid plans of mice and boy-men, this seventh game of the second set doesn’t quite work out, as Ugo’s usually dependable serve is broken after a long, eight-deuce game, and now he is down, really down, 6-0, 6-1. (In 2033, all Juniors matches were officially increased to a more adult three-of-five sets.)
A player with a weaker character might have caved in at this point. Not Ugo Bellezza. He is determined to change the way the match is being played. But
It is a sense only special people are born with.
La vita è strana, life is funny, Giglio is thinking as he and Ugo wrap up their hit. Here we are, living in an age where technological advances are astounding: We’ve put a man and a woman on Mars, surgeons are performing brain implants, we can see each other as we speak on our TelevideoPhones. And yet there’s still no progress on helping deaf people overcome their handicap. But…perhaps everything happens for a reason? Perhaps, were he a hearing person, Ugo would not have developed this special ability. And who knows? Perhaps he would not have been happier than he is now and has always seemed to be.
* * *
Fifteen-year-old Ugo Bellezza continues to turn tennis heads, reaching the finals of this preparatory event in Barcelona. But now an upset is brewing, and he is mired in a struggle against an eighteen-year-old who is ranked number three in the Juniors behind Ugo and Jack—the talented Frenchman from Brittany, Tristan Corbière.
The young man from Roscoff—a remote town on the northern coast of Finistère and just east of the tip of France’s nose—has done his homework and, so far, figured out a way to blunt the aggressive, thinking style of the Florentine. He has realized, early on, that any serious competitor will try to take advantage of his opponent’s weakness, and in order to profit from Ugo’s deafness he has concentrated on disguising his shots, on keeping them on his racquet for as long as possible, on not telegraphing anything, especially his drop shot. And since he knows that Ugo depends entirely on visual cues in order to anticipate shots, his strategy has until now, through nearly two sets, perplexed the Italian youngster and thrown him completely off his game.
Devo migliorare, Ugo is thinking as he takes a swig from his bottle of high-energy Agua del Cid on his seat during a changeover. I need to get better. I’m down 6-0, 5-1. Okay, so how’d I get here? Well, this guy is tough, I give him credit for that. But like Giglio always tells me, his good play will make mine better.
Ugo looks at Giglio, seated by his side. (The rules were changed in 2027—the sole exception being the always-reactionary Wimbledon—when the WTA realized that Davis Cup had it right all along and that having coaching was more exciting and the player had to win it on the court anyway and why not allow a coach there in the chair on the sidelines, since every other major sport except for golf allowed coaches to give input during timeouts or on the bench?) Mentor and protégé exchange loving glances.
Giglio makes the sign for deaf (he touches his index finger first to his mouth, then to his ear)and then for zero (he makes a big O with both hands, then pulls them apart with each hand thrusting out, all ten fingers separated). Ugo understands instantly: “You are deaf. So what? That is nothing .” He knows by now that adversity is a built-in part of tennis and of life, and that his deafness is a major obstacle and really una metafora for adversity. How to react to adversity is the key. So when it presents itself, what will you do? Giglio is saying that this obstacle is not a problem, but instead it is a motivator, just like being behind.
But despite the best-laid plans of mice and boy-men, this seventh game of the second set doesn’t quite work out, as Ugo’s usually dependable serve is broken after a long, eight-deuce game, and now he is down, really down, 6-0, 6-1. (In 2033, all Juniors matches were officially increased to a more adult three-of-five sets.)
A player with a weaker character might have caved in at this point. Not Ugo Bellezza. He is determined to change the way the match is being played. But
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