“Time, Mr. Moore,” called the referee.
Tommy looked paralyzed, unable to lift the racket. Kitt pumped his fist, gave him the victory sign, and Tommy raised his arms to wipe his eyes. There were some snickers from the other side of the court, but they were quickly silenced.
“Mr. Moore, time violation.”
A disapproving murmur rose. Slowly Tommy walked back to take up his serving stance as Kitt had taught him. He bounced the ball, one, two, three, four times, then tossed it in the air and served it cleanly over the net.
“Game, set, match, championship, Mr. Moore,” intoned the referee. Kitt slowly relaxed his fists and watched Tommy, who stood stiff and dazed, and finally looked up at him. For the first time, his eyes met Kitt's, and sunlight shone full into Tommy's closed soul.
Kitt stood motionless, breathless. Every hair on his head crackled with fire and ice. Slowly, a tingling began in his chest, spreading through his body to make him shiver. He jumped up, arms high in the air in his trademark victory cheer.
SLAM!
Break Point Down Page 41
