Pendulum Swing

Akiva Cedar, on the cusp of turning eighteen, had long been inured to pre-match jitters. He sat by himself limbering his sore calves. He fastened the clips of his kipa and the tassels of his tzitzit. Across the locker room, Victor’s entourage—his father, coach, and girlfriend—stirred in support. Akiva briefly thought of his own father, thousands of miles away and wondered if he was thinking of him, too. Then his mind drifted to the press coverage leading up to the match, which seemed less focused on tennis and more on ginning up headline grabbers such as, Germany Versus Israel: Will the New or Old Testament Prevail? These divisions, while fashioned from the outside, seemed to produce the intended effect, as an almost instant friction developed between the German and Israeli players, despite their never having met or spoken to each other. From opposite ends of the locker room, they exchanged token glances. Scully entered and motioned both players to join her at the front of the tunnel. Victor jogged in place like a boxer, flapping his arms from side to side. Akiva stood expressionless, clutching his racquet bag to his hip. On the loudspeaker their names were announced, and both players took to the court, with the Bill Tilden Stadium pulsing and a wildcard bid to the US Open hanging in the balance.

 

Just after his bar mitzvah, years before he’d amounted to anything in tennis, Akiva’s future appeared to be set in stone. After serving in the IDF, a marriage would be arranged with the Kravitzes’ eldest daughter, Gal, and...