The lose

                  The sun beat down on the players unmercifully. The humidity could be cut with a knife and the energy felt by everyone. The crowd was silent. Both players swayed back and forth in anticipation of the serve. Jim raised his left hand and let go of the ball while his right arm came up and down in an arch with incredible force to smash the tennis ball. The serve was so perfect that the opposing player had no time to react. The crowd went wild. A voice over the loud speaker could scarcely be heard -“game and match Jim Stanton.” With the exhilaration of the win and hands clenched in fists over his head Jim yelled “yes”…  His own voice brought him out of his sleep as he awoke sitting up in bed. The smile quickly faded from his face as he looked around his one room flop and saw the numerous empty beer and vodka bottles that littered the floor. His heart sank. It was only a dream. Jim Stanton, ‘6 “3 and 173 lbs was, in the early ‘90s, the top rated amateur tennis player in the world. Turning pro and making a fortune was only a mere formality. But with success came the engagements and parties. The toast of the tennis world Jim was never known to turn down a drink. He was the life of the party. Drinking was, he thought at the time, just part of the game.
                  But staying out late and shirking his responsibilities had their consequences. His judgment on and off the court were severely affected as was his health. It took only a year and Jim was no longer in the world standings. In fact barley anyone even remembered his name. In no time he was just another face in the crowd. He sighed in disbelief. It had been 15 years since he held a tennis racket. He had fallen from grace as hard and fast as person could.  He searched his memories to try and think when it all had happened but soon stopped. It would only frustrate him and that would lead to bitterness. Bitter about his past, uncertain about his future and just plan angry in the here and now.  God forgive me he thought; look what I’ve done to myself. The tears fell from his face as he looked at the book shelves that held the trophies, ribbons and accolades of a once promising future. A lifetime of achievements. He then viewed the cobwebs in the corners, the layers of dust on the dresser and the numerous empty bottles on the floor. A life time of failures. The same ignorance seemed to have no end in sight.                                                       
              In desperation Jim had gone to church, studied Buddhism and tried cold turkey. He looked towards the window at the night stand and next to the lamp saw the A.A. big book. It reminded him the meetings he attended. It was difficult for Jim to accept how frail and weak he was. In his mind he was still the athlete large and in charge. People told him he was in denial. His head began to pound from the nights drinking binge. He started to feel sick and knew he may have to run for the bathroom all the tenants had to share. This was the worst of times. When he was left alone with the thoughts of the past and the chaotic emotions of guilt and grief. An only child he missed his parents who both had passed away years before. In the past Jim had felt alone but not like this. Now the panic set in . The doom and gloom that defined his life for so long. He begged God for an answer.  His hands covered his face as he began to sob.                                                                                                                                                                                       
            He lifted up his head and again looked towards the window and saw it. He had seen it many times before, opened it and used it numerous times but only now did it make sense. Jim felt, at the same time, excitement and relief. He looked forward to an end of the anguish. For the first in many years Jim felt the confidence and determination an athlete feels at the top of his game.  Jim Stanton, once a rising star in the world of tennis quickly walked to the window of his fifth story room, opened it and threw himself out.                                           
                A story by Thomas Ward.

             
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