Naked Hero - The Journey Away Read Free Page B

year sabbatical from the main tour – a Mouri style tattoo that covered his right shoulder and all of his serving arm – not exactly the preferred image in the prim and proper eyes of the All England Club members who determined the schedule and the right to play on the coveted show courts.
    The ground ticket holders like it though! Especially the young ladies who thought he looked at treat – unusually edgy with the tattooed arm that was fully displayed by his sleeveless top, muscles aplenty on a seriously fit body, youthfully handsome with dark brooding looks, and a killer of a smile that got flashed more and more as Lewis eased into the attention that quickly mounted when he started to take his opponent apart. The fact that he was winning, and doing it in style, was an added bonus to the impressionable fillies, and an all too rare treat for the true connoisseurs of the beautiful grass court game. But whatever the view in the eyes of the beholders, one thing was for sure: there was a new exciting look to the sport of lawn tennis... and surprise, surprise – it came wrapped in a British flag. It took an hour and forty minutes to win in three comfortable sets, by the end of which Lewis was semi-famous. He was talked about and texted about on smart looking phones; he was tweeted about and trended all over the internet. He was read about in newspapers and briefly shown on television. Then two days later with a clarion cry - everyone from Land’s End to John O’Groats knew who the blighter was!
    His second round match was against an Argentinean - the number four seed and losing finalist from the year before. With all the other home players already annoyingly sent packing, there was no alternative for the reluctant organisers but to put him on Centre Court - the recently roofed Mecca of tennis.
    There were nerves of course for young Mr. Macleod, there always was at the start of his matches. But mainly it was excitement that Lewis felt– it was a long cherished dream to appear on this stage and now it had come to pass. The ultimate dream was five matches away, but this would do for a start. As it happened, those nerves played little part in deciding the outcome. Latin temperament and a partisan crowd played a much bigger role. It was all over after Lewis won the first set on a tie-break. The crowd went berserk... and so did his opponent.
    Spanish: such a fabulous language, with a range of expletives that are second to none. Fortunately, few at courtside were blessed with the linguistic gift, and those who had mastered the odd word before heading off to the Costa’s for their week or two in the sun, were not versed in the choice phrases that were uttered that day. They passed everyone by, including the umpire. The only thing that didn’t get passed was Lewis. He was there at the net like a pouncing panther crunching everything away.
    Game, set and match!
    As he sat at the bar looking at his own image, Lewis cast his mind back to that June afternoon – or more precisely to its repercussions. There he was, out of the blue, the nation’s new sporting hero. He was on the television playing down his chances, and on the back pages giving it large, pumping his arm as he wound up the crowd, looking like he was up for another round in The Falklands.
    ‘That was a bit naughty,’ Lewis now conceded, although he certainly didn’t think so at the time. He later claimed that he didn’t do it consciously – it was just youthful exuberance that got slightly out of hand – but that was a whole load of bollocks. He’d seen a weakness and exploited it to the full - put on a performance which was a means to an end, adding the crowd to his arsenal of weapons that rained down on his furious opponent. Perhaps it wasn’t very sporting, but then life isn’t always fair. Lewis certainly knew that from bitter experience, and his two year ban was only the tip of the iceberg.
    Sporting or not, the tabloids loved it - a Brit was winning at