This edition published by Allen & Unwin in 2016
First published in Singapore in 2015 by Sunbear Publishing
Copyright © Text, Shamini Flint 2015
Copyright © Illustrations, Sally Heinrich 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Email: [email protected]
Web: www.allenandunwin.com
A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available
from the National Library of Australia
www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN 978 1 76 029 088 7
eISBN 978 1 92 526 890 4
Text design by Sally Heinrich
Series cover concept by Jaime Harrison
CONTENTS
MY TENNIS DIARY
TENNIS LESSON NO. 1
TENNIS LESSON NO.2
TENNIS LESSON NO. 3
TENNIS LESSON NO. 4
TENNIS LESSON NO. 5
TENNIS LESSON NO. 6
TENNIS LESSON NO. 7
MATCH DAY
About the Author
Have you read all of my other diaries?
MY TENNIS DIARY
I’m in stealth mode.
No one knows where I am.
I’m a shadow, a mystery, a fugitive.
I am also a master of disguise.
Look at a crowd …
In a classroom …
On a beach …
At a bus stop …
You’ll never guess which one I am …
Who are you? I hear you ask.
Are you a spy?
Are you an alien in disguise?
Are you on a top secret mission to save humans from a zombie invasion?
(The Post-it notes are by my sister who reads all my secret diaries without my permission. She’s twelve going on ANNOYING.)
Be quiet, Gemma.
Actually, I am Marcus Atkinson, aged nine.
I’m an ordinary boy, living an ordinary life, with my father, my mother and two sisters.
So what’s the problem?
Why do I hide?
What do I fear?
Why do I run?
I fear my father.
I hide from my own Dad.
Can you believe it?
You might think he’s an evil wizard …
Or a mad scientist …
Or a master criminal …
But he’s not.
Actually, Dad is a really nice guy.
He helps old people cross the road.
He cheers up crying children.
He gives money to charity.
And he thinks I’m wonderful …
So what’s the problem?
He doesn’t just think I’m wonderful.
He thinks I’m wonderful at SPORT.
And I’m NOT.
What’s the opposite of wonderful?
I’m wonder-empty at SPORT.
Any SPORT. EVERY SPORT.
How can I possibly know that?
BECAUSE I’VE TRIED …
Anything and everything that can go wrong in SPORT has gone wrong for me …
But Dad still believes in me …
The problem is that Dad has written a self-help book called ...
The important thing to know is that it is not possible to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.
I know. I’ve tried.
It is also not possible to do any of the other things in Dad’s book.
How is that even possible?
First you would need a machine to clone yourself.
And Dad doesn’t explain in his book how to make one of those …
And why would your cloned self try to stand in your way anyway? If I had a clone machine, I’d make another copy of me, send that one to school while I …
PARTIED!!!!!
Really?
How about a helicopter?
Or a parachute??
Or how about I stay at the bottom of the mountain???
But the worst bit in his book is …
Except I never disagree out loud with Dad.
That’s not because I’m afraid that he’ll chase me with a broom …
Or lock me in the bathroom until I agree with him …
Or hide my PlayStation on top of a cupboard.
It’s because I don’t want to disappoint him …
I’m terrified.
More terrified than if I had to fend off a pack of lions …
More terrified than if I had to go on a date with a girl …
More terrified than if I fell into shark-infested waters …
I’m afraid of whatever sport Dad makes me try next …
Exactly! I thought Dad might have run out of sports to make me try. But we’re not even close!!! I Googled it!!!!
What if he makes me try fencing?
What if I have to become a sumo wrestler??
What if I have to get into a boxing ring with the undefeated champion of the world???
And then Dad got cunning …
I haven’t forgotten the humiliation of that golf kit.
Every single one of my coaches has given up on me.
Never shirk a challenge?
Never?
How about if the challenge is to walk a tightrope with no safety net between two skyscrapers?
What if the challenge is to play chess with a bad-tempered orangutan who doesn’t like to lose?
What if the challenge is to look for a needle in a haystack that is also home to a family of cobras ?
The whole world reads Dad’s book …
But none of them ever ask the difficult questions …
There is no catch?
Is that what the little fish thought before it got eaten by the big fish?
Is that what the big fish thought before it got eaten by the even bigger fish?
Is that what the bigger fish thought just before it got caught by fishermen?
TENNIS LESSON NO. 1
JT, Hulk and James!
Nothing annoys me more than coaches who quote from Dad’s book.
A wall? I know exactly what to do!!
Time to break out of my tennis prison …
Time to fill in the hole …
TENNIS LESSON NO.2
Maybe it got stuck in a tree?
Maybe a bird got it.
Or an alien spacecraft … They’re probably trying to communicate with it now …
Practice makes perfect?
TENNIS LESSON NO. 3
I’d be happy to calculate the amount of spin on a piece of paper – but that would mean I actually have to hit a ball.
*Later Dad told me that a tennis elbow was an injury common to tennis players, to be unseeded means to be a weak player and that Venus Williams is a famous tennis player.
TENNIS LESSON NO. 4
Dad came with me to tennis today.
In my personal experience, fortune favours those ...
whose parents already have a fortune …
who buy winning lottery tickets …
o
r who become successful bank robbers.
Dennis the Menace? More like Tennis the Menace! Tennis the Menace served.
I didn’t even see the ball as it whizzed past me.
He served again. This time the ball hit me in the stomach.
At least this will be over soon if he gets 15 points every time I mess up.
Tennis the Menace tossed the ball in the air like a pro.
This time I saw the ball because it was aimed directly between my eyes.
Spot saved me!
Spot the super dog!!!!
Tennis the Menace served.
Knowing Spot couldn’t help me, I held the racquet in front of my face for protection.
It bounced back over the net.
Tennis the Menace smashed the ball so hard it bounced over my head.
I would really love to look at the world through Dad’s eyes. It must be quite something …
I bet Dad only sees rainbows without the rain …
I bet birds are singing wherever he looks …
I bet ...
NO!! NOT EVEN DAD COULD BELIEVE THAT!!
What’s up with this guy? He beat me at tennis, he didn’t introduce me to his sister …
*Later Dad told me that LOVE was what you call a score of zero in tennis.
At the rate I’m going, Harriet will learn to speak before I learn to play tennis …
TENNIS LESSON NO. 5
Even worse than tennis is the conversations between tennis lessons.
He’d just run as fast as he could away from the tennis courts and no one in the whole world would catch him …
TENNIS LESSON NO. 6
How would we improve my tennis?
A body transplant with Roger Federer?
Two new robot arms?
An octopus as a doubles partner?
What’s the best thing about tennis?
Coming home,that’s what. At least at home I know I’m safe.
Safe from the machines …
Safe from the coaches …
Safe from Tennis the Menace.
I can play computer games,
watch television,
do my maths homework,
play with Harriet
and cook dinner …
I CAN FORGET ABOUT SPORT!!
I CAN FORGET ABOUT TENNIS!!!
Why is there a racquet on the couch?
There’s a note.
I picked up the racquet.
A ball whizzed by my head. I fended it off with the racquet.
It broke Mum’s favourite vase.
Another one came at me – I missed and it went through the television.
The next one hit me in a private place. OOF!
And then they were coming thick and fast. I wielded the racquet like a sword.
I hit some …
I missed some …
Most of the balls hit ME.
And then it was all over …
I looked around. The house was wrecked. Dad jumped out from behind a sofa holding a racquet.
TENNIS LESSON NO. 7
Geez, and James is supposed to be my best friend.
Mind you, he has a point.
Actually, we didn’t even get a point.
I stood at the net.
James covered the rest of the court.
James muttered something under his breath.
At this rate, I won’t have a single friend left.
Suddenly Mum has gone bonkers. Is she going to write a book too?
And Gemma?
And Harriet???
I looked at Mum.
She slowly winked.
Suddenly,
I understood what I had to do.
I slowly nodded …
and then I ran to put my new plan into action.
I locked myself in my room and read Volume 1 and Volume 2 of ...
PULL YOURSELF UP BY YOUR OWN BOOTSTRAPS.
I skipped dinner.
I skipped tennis training.
I skipped playing with Spot.
I highlighted bits, folded down pages and memorised sections until I felt I was ready for anything.
This match against Tennis the Menace was going to be bigger than …
McEnroe v. Connors
Navratilova v. Graf
Djokovic v. Federer
MATCH DAY
On the day of the match, I woke up early and made my preparations …
DID I MENTION I WAS READY?
The sun was shining.
The birds were singing.
The usual crowd of family and friends trickled in.
The usual crowd of people hoping to video me doing something funny and upload it to YouTube were there.
Tennis the Menace was doing stretching exercises.
Dad and Coach Ben had their heads together in deep conversation.
I walked to the middle of the court.
At first no one noticed and then the crowd grew silent and everyone watched me.
I walked to a section of the court and began to draw and write with chalk on the green surface.
Gemma helped me wheel out carts of delicious canapés I’d made that morning.
Everyone struggled to the front and stuffed their faces ... including Dennis.
Especially Dennis since Gemma kept offering him more cake.
Tennis the Menace and I faced off against each other.
Luckily, I had a coin with two heads and another with two tails in my pocket from an old trick box.
I waited at the other end for his serve, shifting my weight from foot to foot, racquet ready.
His first serve hit the net.
His second serve hit the umpire.
For the next serve, he threw the ball so far away, he couldn’t reach it.
Then he corrected this by throwing his ball as high as his right ear and hitting himself on the head.
I hadn’t had to hit a ball yet.
This time, Tennis the Menace threw the ball straight up, hit it and it landed gently in my court. Even I could put that away. And I did.
But I didn’t win the set. I walked up to the umpire.
I decided not to mention the two-headed coin. There was no need to get carried away.
The perfect sport for a boy and his dog – especially for a dog as smart as Spot!!
Spot and I raced through the competition.
Spot weaved through the poles …
Ran up and down the seesaw …
Rushed through the tunnel …
He took all the jumps cleanly …
I was with him each step of the way, running and shouting instructions.
Spot was perfect!! We were both panting …
I looked at the clock.
Diary of a Tennis Prodigy Page 1
