I moved as fast . He listens to the last nasty comments Pops, look how sorry I am and gives me a nod as appropriate. Half a nod to basic fears. A whole nod with a patented wrinkle-Philly for great anxiety. Even standing on his head to Philly with a nod more to say than most people an entire letter.
One night he asks if I want something Philly promise.
Sure, Philly. Everything.
Pops never leave pills.
Pills?
Andre, listen to what I say. This is really important.
Okay, Philly, I hear you. I listen.
The next time you go to the national championships and Pops will give you pills, you should not take them.
He gives me all Excedrin, Philly. Excedrin for a match I have of him, because so much caffeine.
Yes, I know. But the pills I'm talking about, are different. These pills are small, white and round. Do not take them. Never.
And if forcing me Pops? I can not tell him no.
Yes, it is. Wait, I thought for a moment.
Philly closes his eyes. I see the blood flow to his head, see that it is purple.
Okay, he says. I know. If he forces you to swallow the pills, then you play a bad match. Express loss. Then, when the job is, you say that you are shaking so much that you could not concentrate.
Okay. But Philly, what are these pills?
Speed.
What is that?
A drug. Get a lot of energy. I just know that he will try to give you some speed.
How do you know, Philly?
He has also to me.
And yes, during the national championships in Chicago, my father gives me a pill. Hold your hand, he says. This will help you. Take.
He puts a pill in my hand. Small. White. About.
I swallow the pill and feel fine. Not really different. A little more alert. I do it just like I'm completely different feel. My opponent, an older boy, is not a challenge, I can at him, but I make that point a long time and give him different games gift. I make sure the match it looks heavier than he is. If I get the job, I tell my dad that I do not feel that I want to withdraw. He looks guilty.
Okay, he says, and rubs his face. That's not good that was once but never again.
After the tournament I call Philly and tell him about the pill.
He says: See, I knew it!
I did what you said, Philly, and it worked.
My brother sounds like a father should sound.
Shortly after I play against an older opponent and defeat him. It is a practice party, nothing special, and I am much better than my opponent, but I help him a little, I make this too long time points, different games give him a gift, just like I did in Chicago. After this match on court three at Cambridge - the same job as when I'm playing Mr. Brown - I feel terrible, because my opponent look terrible. I should have let him win. I hate to lose, but I hate this time also to win because the opponent is defeated Philly. Does this feeling that I have no killer instinct? Confused and sad, I wish I could find that old guy, Rudy, Rudy or the other before him, so I could ask them what it all means.
