Vanishing Act Read Online Free PDF Page A

that,” Stevie said. “He lost in the second round, didn’t he?”
    â€œYeah,” Kelleher said. “Then he had to fight through the crowds to get back to the locker room because only center court and court one are accessible from the locker room without going out among the masses.”
    â€œGuess that’s what they mean by ‘going outside,’ huh?” Susan Carol said. “Court two’s the one they call the graveyard of champions, right?”
    â€œVery good, Susan Carol,” Kelleher said with a smile. “Lot of big upsets have taken place out there. And, to be fair, the Brits always stick players outside. But Pete Sampras? He won the event seven times!”
    â€œSo the Americans get even at the Open,” Stevie said.
    â€œYup,” Kelleher said. “Nadal is really a tough one because it isn’t just the Spanish media that has to cover him, it’s everyone from Europe. Take a look at the schedule on the Armstrong Court. They’ve got Nick Nocera there. I mean, who wants to watch Nick Nocera besides friends, family, and his agent?”
    Stevie didn’t even know the name. Naturally, Susan Carol did. “Didn’t he make the semis here last year?” she said. “And he beat Roddick in Indianapolis.”
    â€œJeez, Susan Carol, what
don’t
you know?” Kelleher said.
    â€œYes, he had a great tournament last year here because the draw opened up. And he did beat Roddick in Indy. That jumped him to about twenty-fifth in the world. You and I and Bud Collins know who he is and that’s about it. That may change, but as of this moment—”
    He was interrupted by someone shouting, “Robertino! Robertino!”
    A huge smile came across Kelleher’s face as the shouter approached, arms open wide. Stevie did a double take. It was the man Kelleher had just been talking about—Bud Collins.
    â€œColleeny!” Kelleher shouted with as much enthusiasm as Collins had shown.
“Ciao, caro!”
    The two men hugged. “And?” Collins asked. “Where is the fair Tamara?”
    â€œBe here this afternoon,” Kelleher said. “Hey, I want you to meet a couple of people.”
    He put an arm around Collins’s shoulders. “Stevie, Susan Carol, I want you to meet the one and only Bud Collins. Bud, this is Stevie Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson.”
    â€œ
Wonderful
to meet you both,” Collins said. He gave Stevie a warm handshake, then kissed Susan Carol on both cheeks, the way it was done in Europe.
    â€œSo these are the two young saviors you told me about from New Orleans, eh, Robertino?” Collins said. “My goodness, you two were heroic. I read all about you. Read your stuff too. You two have accomplished more at thirteen than most of us will in a lifetime.”
    Stevie felt himself flush. He couldn’t believe Bud Collins had read anything he had written. When he had first watched Wimbledon on TV with his father, he had immediately noticed Collins, the man with the warm smile, the white beard, and the pants that were almost blinding to look at. Collins reminded him in many ways of Dick Vitale, the college basketball announcer whose enthusiasm was legendary. Stevie had met him in New Orleans and his ears were still ringing. Collins wasn’t as loud as Vitale but he was similarly enthusiastic about his sport. Stevie’s dad had told him that Collins had been the first man
ever
to broadcast tennis on television, back in the 1960s, when the PBS station in Boston decided to telecast the local tournament played there. He had gone on to become “the voice of tennis” on NBC. Stevie hadn’t realized that he was friends with Kelleher.
    â€œMr. Collins, I’ve watched you since I was a baby,” Susan Carol was saying. “And I really loved reading your book.”
    She had him there. Stevie didn’t know Collins had written a book.
    â€œMy book!”