Murder Is My Racquet Read Free

profile, not Vasco Barxi, not Roger MacReady. All over the world, people know your name.”
    “They know me as a maniac who can’t control himself. That’s not how I want to be known.”
    “And there are others who say you gain by intimidating officials,” Safer went on. “You get them so they’re afraid to call a close point against you.”
    “They seem to be dealing with their fears,” Tommy said. “And wouldn’t that be brilliant strategy on my part? Get tossed out of a Grand Slam tournament in order to unnerve an official?”
    “So it’s not calculated? In fact it’s not something subject to your control?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Well, what are you going to do about it? Are you getting help?”
    “I’m working on it,” he said grimly. “It’s not that easy.”
    • • •
    “I t’s rage,” he told Diane Sawyer. “I don’t know where it comes from. I know what triggers it, but that’s not necessarily the same thing.”
    “A bad call.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Or a good call,” Sawyer said, “that you think is a bad call.”
    Tommy shook his head ruefully. “It’s embarrassing enough to explode when the guy gets it wrong,” he said. “The incident I think you’re referring to, where the replay clearly showed he’d made the right call, well, I felt more ashamed of myself than ever. But even when I’m clearly right and the official’s clearly wrong, there’s no excuse for my behavior.”
    “You realize that.”
    “Of course I do. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.”
    “And if you are crazy, it’s temporary insanity. As I think our viewers can see, you’re perfectly sane when you don’t have a tennis racquet in your hand.”
    “Well, they haven’t asked me to pose for any Mental Health posters,” he said with a grin. “But it’s true I don’t have to struggle to keep a lid on it. That only happens when I’m playing tennis.”
    “The court’s where the struggle takes place.”
    “Yes.”
    “And when you honestly think a call has gone against you, that it’s a bad call…”
    “Sometimes I can keep myself in check. But other times I just lose it. I go into a zone and, well, everybody knows what happens then.”
    “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
    “Not really.”
    “You’ve had professional help?”
    “I’ve tried a few things,” he said. “Different kinds of therapy to help me develop more insight into myself. I think it’s been useful, I think I know myself a little better than I used to, but when some clown says one of my shots was out when I just plain know it was in—”
    “You’re helpless.”
    “Utterly,” he said. “Everything goes out the window, all the insight, all the coping techniques. The only thing that’s left is the rage.”
    • • •
    “Y ou have a life most women would envy,” Barbara Walters told Jennifer Terhune. “You’re young, you’re beautiful, you’ve had success as a model and as an actress. And you’re the wife of an enormously talented and successful athlete.”
    “I’ve been very fortunate.”
    “What’s it like being married to a man like Tommy Terhune?”
    “It’s wonderful.”
    “The clothes, the travel, the VIP treatment…”
    “That’s all nice,” Jennifer acknowledged, “but it’s, like, the least of it. Just being with Tommy, sharing his life, that’s what’s truly wonderful.”
    “You love your husband.”
    “Of course I do.”
    “But I’m sure there are women in my audience,” Walters said, “who wonder if you might not be the least bit afraid of your husband.”
    “Afraid of Tommy?”
    Walters raised her eyebrows. “Mr. TNT? Terrible Tommy Terhune?”
    “Oh, that.”
    “ ‘Oh, that.’ You’re married to a man with the most famously explosive temper in the world. Don’t tell me you’re never afraid that something you might do or say will set him off.”
    “Not really.”
    “What makes you so confident, Jennifer?”
    “Tommy has a problem with rage,”