IntraRacial Warfare

IntraRacial Warfare:

By: Justin Marlowe 

Saturday, July 15, 1996: Terry and his son, Cameron, were preparing to leave their home in Stafford, Virginia to spend the day in Washington D.C. The two of them were fatigued beyond belief, as the previous week had been absolutely draining. Terry was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army and would make a similar hour-long trek from his home outside of Northern Virginia to The Pentagon on a daily basis. The last thing he wanted was to head right back into the same area on a Saturday. This was his weekend. One of two days to rest and relish in whatever he wanted to do on his own time. But Cameron was quickly becoming one of the more elite tennis players within the D.C., Maryland, and Virginia area. Not only did Terry have an affinity for watching his son play, but he knew how important this particular event was for his junior career. Cameron was also a standout student within his high school’s Governor’s School program. He was constantly dealing with the pressures of performing at an academically high level, as well as navigating the ins and outs of the highfalutin world of first class tennis.    

They loaded up the Honda Civic with Gatorade, water, protein snacks, extra clothing, and multiple copies of Tennis Magazine. It was 7:00 a.m., and the two of them were en route to the Mid-Atlantic Open. The starting time for the match was 9:00, and their goal was to arrive about an hour early. Terry and Cameron typically attempted to get to tournament sites far before the call times in order to properly decompress prior to the warm-ups. This was the premier “16 And Under" competition within the MATA (Mid Atlantic Tennis Association) region and an amazing opportunity for Cameron to stake his claim as a player to be watched. He worked tirelessly to improve his ranking to a point where it was high enough for automatic admission into such an event, and knew many multi-million dollar sponsors would be in attendance. Not necessarily the big guns like Nike, HEAD, or Adidas, but some of the more “youth-friendly” companies would certainly be checking for talent. A few of his peers had already received contracts from corporations such as Reebok, Wilson, Prince, and Yonex, so in his mind, he wasn’t far off from acquiring the same. The drive from Stafford to Washington would give him ample time to mentally assess his budding situation.

Interestingly, Cameron’s adversary had been driving Terry crazy. Not in a literal sense, but he was always scouting the competition within the junior tennis ranks. Earlier in the week, Terry received a copy of the tournament draw by mail, which included the brackets and a list of everyone’s first round opponent. He opened the letter with expediency and was dumbfounded by the result: Cameron Smith vs. Madredi Skinner. Terry couldn’t believe his eyes. Madredi Skinner?! His son was going to be going up against Madredi Skinner in the first round?! In his opinion, this was absolutely asinine. Out of a draw of 128 players, the tournament director placed the only two African American competitors against one another in the first round?! To be fair, Terry knew Madredi had earned his status as one of the best in the area, and probably even the country. He was the number one seed at almost every event. His family had immigrated from Jamaica five years prior and dedicated their earnings to advancing their son’s junior tennis career. Madredi’s father, Badrick, had always taken a liking to Cameron, and invited him to practice with his son from time to time. 

Madredi’s skill set was generally superior to Cameron’s, but Badrick’s respect for Terry’s son led him to give Cameron the nickname, “Baby Madredi.” Their practice sessions were phenomenal, and Cameron was on the come up, reaching a career high ranking of 28. Madredi never fell beneath the number three spot. He had a racket sponsorship from Wilson, a string deal with Babolat, and an apparel contract with Reebok. All of it well deserved. It wasn’t technically wrong for the two of them to have been matched up against one another. After all, once someone isn’t seeded, they become fair game in terms of who they have to play. But Terry never trusted the upper echelons of the junior tennis brass not to have a prejudiced agenda. It wasn’t as if his opinions were inherently warranted, but he was a “Civil Rights Baby.” Born in Atlanta, Georgia, at the tail end of 1957. Right in the midst of a multitude of protests, riots, legal upheaval, and violence. He didn’t trust the system, even though he may have been acting cynically in this particular instance. Maybe he was wrong, but maybe he wasn’t. To him, the tournament directors might have been attempting to eliminate one of the two African American players on the first day. Terry was a true product of his environment.

When it came to racial issues, Cameron didn’t really care to address them. He’d been socialized very differently. Although acutely aware of racism and its existence, he never noticed it being carried out within his little bubble. He couldn’t imagine a situation where he or anyone in his family would be victimized. He’d never heard any racial slurs being used at school, and although most of his friends were white, they all seemed open and accepting. Cameron never experienced an occurrence where he didn’t feel welcome because of his ethnicity. Maybe he was naive and more hopeful than he should have been. He did, however, take notice of the fact that many of the tennis parents were constantly talking about him and Madredi as if they were some type of tandem; or better yet, rivals. They did occasionally train together, but they practiced with others as well. Their playing styles and personalities were also contrasting. Madredi was a big hitting, fast serving, first strike type of player. He never wanted to engage in long rallies and usually tried to end the points as quickly as possible. His muscles were prominent and he stood at around 5 '11.” He was also a loud grunter. It was something that came natural to him, but most people thought he liked the fact that it could intimidate opponents.

 Cameron was a grinder. A baseline competitor who used heavy topspin and consistency to wear his opponents down. He loved long points and could run all day. He was smaller, svelte, and pretty quiet. Even when his intensity would rise, spectators were rarely aware. Concealing his emotions was one of his strengths. Their only real similarity was their skin color. And because of the disparity with regard to their ranking, they really couldn’t be rivals. At least not yet. That was something Cameron could only dream of. Nevertheless, the racial dynamic was all Terry could talk about on the way to the venue. He seemed obsessed. For Cameron, the trip was exhausting. All he wanted to do was relax and mentally go over his plan of attack.

 Terry and Cameron arrived at about 8:15, so they had little time to relax. They checked in at 8:20 and went straight to the pro shop to pick up some extra grip for Cameron’s rackets. It was the middle of a scorching summer, so having more than enough grip would be integral. He couldn’t afford to have anything go awry against such a formidable player. The last thing he’d want would be for his racket to slip out of his hand during the course of play. As they were leaving the shop, the two of them crossed paths with Badrick and Madredi. It wasn’t remotely contentious, as they had always been very cordial, but the onlookers eyed them down like they expected something cantankerous to flare up. It was almost as if the majority of the parents had never been around black people before. Maybe Madredi was used to it, given he had been competing at tournaments like this for quite some time, but it was all new for Cameron. For a moment, he wondered if they were being stereotyped, but quickly let the thought go, as he had an important match to think about. The four of them greeted each other and then rapidly departed the store. Cameron and Madredi picked up their gear, acquired a few last minute tips from their fathers, and then set out for the match.

With Madredi being one of the top seeds, he always got to compete on the “stadium” courts. Not like the stadiums at professional events, but just with more seating than the average junior competition. This typically only meant there would be a few extra bleachers, which wasn’t a big deal, but to Cameron, the extra visibility was a bit daunting. Their warm up went as expected. They rallied for about three minutes and then took a few practice volleys. The overheads came next and then they finished with some light serving. Cameron had won the toss and opted to start the match on his serve. With his anxiety peaking, his initial goal was simply not to double fault during the first game. Since it was a junior tournament, the two of them would have to call their own lines. No judges would be present. The stands filled with about 25 spectators. It didn’t appear as though any sponsors had shown, which disappointed Cameron, but he wasn’t one to complain. He simply went on about his business. The crowd cheered them on as they ran to their respective baselines. The competition was underway. 

Given Cameron’s tense disposition, he started the match by hitting his first serves with a lot of topspin and slice. He was afraid to miss and wanted to test Madredi’s resolve. Just because his opponent was the more accomplished player didn’t mean he wasn’t equally nervous. In the blink of an eye, Madredi missed four straight returns with three of them going into the net and the fourth being hit wide. Cameron took the lead, 1-0.

The following game also went to the underdog. He was playing within himself. Madredi was pressing; going for too much too soon. Internally, Cameron kept saying, “don’t miss, don’t miss, don’t miss.” He used heavy topspin to get significant net clearance and to push Madredi far behind the baseline. Given Madredi’s attacking style, that’s the last place on the court he wanted to be, and it was really frustrating him. The fourth game went to Madredi but Cameron was still on top with a 3-1 lead. He started to calm down as his adrenaline increased. He continued to remain serene while it appeared as though Madredi might implode. Everything seemed to be going Cameron’s way. Terry was nervously pacing from one section of the stands to the other, while Badrick quietly sat secluded in a completely solemn state. Madredi’s father was an emotional man, but never showed it during his son’s matches. He refused to give the spectators anything additional to feed off of.

Before Cameron knew it, he was serving at 5-1 and 40/30. It was set point. He went for a big first serve but missed it to the left of the service line. Madredi crowded the service box in an attempt to intimidate Cameron into possibly double faulting. He tossed in a side spinning slice, which threw Madredi off guard and resulted in him making a wild error on the return. The first set went to Cameron, 6 games to 1. His endorphins were seething and his body was covered with goosebumps. At this point, he had the belief he could actually beat Madredi. The crowd looked perplexed, but realized the match had a long way to go.

Madredi would serve to begin the second set. In his mind, it was time to show why he was ranked so much higher than Cameron. He needed to stop playing around and exude some form of dominance. It was imperative that his game plan change. Madredi decided to use some of Cameron’s tactics against him. Rather than striking the ball with reckless abandon, he would hit with as much topspin as he could muster with excessive racket speed. Because Cameron was fairly short, the balls would bounce at eye level and be extremely difficult to return with any significant potency. He’d employ the same strategy with his serve, opting for high bouncing kickers as opposed to attempting to blow him off the court with pure power.

Madredi’s new approach started working with haste. Cameron was being bullied from side to side and wasn’t able to get much depth on his shots. Everything was landing short, right into Madredi’s wheelhouse. The tables had quickly turned. Madredi was used to these types of situations, while this was uncharted territory for Cameron. The spectators were in Madredi’s corner, as they were familiar with him and his notable abilities. With Cameron being an up and comer, most of the families viewed him as an outsider. In less than no time, he was serving, down 2-5 and 15/40. It was now Madredi’s set point. Cameron floated in a fairly weak delivery, topping out at around 55 miles per hour. This was easy pickings for Madredi, who demolished the ball back at almost twice the speed. Cameron didn’t stand a chance at returning it, and the second set went to Madredi, six games to two. Most junior tournaments played best two out of three sets, but the Mid-Atlantic Open was different. To save time, in the event that the players split the first two sets, they’d engage in a tiebreaker to decide the winner. First player to seven who wins by two. If the score gets tied at six apiece, the match continues until someone wins by two points. At this moment, Cameron was feeling dejected while Madredi’s confidence was surging. 

The tiebreaker began on Madredi’s serve. He knew he only needed to win seven points at the least, so he saw no reason to alter his blueprint. Cameron was absolutely exhausted. He usually didn’t mind running a lot, but competing against Madredi in a serious match was a different animal. Something he wasn’t accustomed to. This wasn’t like their practice sessions. At his core, he was just happy to have made the contest decently competitive. His will to win was dissipating, but his pride was still high.

More of the same ensued for Cameron during the tiebreak, and he found himself down zero points to six. Although content to have been a solid challenger, he desperately wanted to avoid being shut out. He knew it wasn’t totally under his control, but was fearful of any embarrassment. Madredi was prepped to serve. He threw in a rolling kicker and Cameron got it back with exceptional intensity. He even let out a soft grunt, which was extremely rare for him. Madredi returned his groundstroke with a drop shot, luring Cameron into the net. Cameron barely retrieved the ball and set him up perfectly to hit a topspin lob clear over his head. Madredi did just that, with the ball landing about six inches inside of the baseline. Right then, everyone in attendance assumed the match was over. But no; Cameron called the shot out. 

“What!?” exclaimed Madredi. “Are you sure?” Many in the crowd gasped in dismay at the erroneous line call. A few even rose to their feet in contempt. Cameron stood in silence for about five seconds with a baffled look on his face…

“No, I’m sorry, it was in,” murmured Cameron. “My bad.” He lowered his head in shame, as he knew he’d attempted to cheat in order to avoid humiliation. Just about everybody watching gazed at him with disgust. Based on their reactions, one would have thought he committed murder. It was almost like the spectators were waiting on one of them to make some sort of moral blunder. But the match was over. Although Madredi had won, he knew why Cameron purposely made the incorrect line call. He wouldn’t have wanted to get shut out in a tiebreak either.

The boys gathered the balls, put their rackets in their bags, and walked into the clubhouse to report the score.

“I’m glad you ended up making the right decision,” Terry said to his son. “There are some players out there who have no problem cheating, but I’m proud to know you aren’t one of them.”

“I guess I just got nervous and didn’t want the match to end that way,” Cameron replied. “I’m sorry. So very sorry.” He sniffled a bit and started to shed a tear. Terry hugged his son.

“No worries at all. You did a great job out there. You fought hard and even took a set from a top level player. I love you.” At that moment, the tournament director, Marjorie Green, made her way past Terry and Cameron. She had a grotesque scowl on her face and could be heard making pejorative remarks under her breath. 

“See, that’s why we don’t need too many of them at these clubs,” she whispered. “I think one family is enough! Good riddance.” Cameron and Terry turned around in shock.

“What did you say?!” shouted Terry. Mrs. Green smirked in his direction.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all…”

Terry wanted to give her a piece of his mind, but stopped short when Cameron got in his way.

“Dad, she’s not worth it,” he said. “Confronting her will only make things worse.” Deep down, he knew his son was correct.

“You’re right,” he replied. He caught his breath and calmed down.

“But you know, I think I understand what you’ve been talking about,” Cameron stated. “I get it now, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier. It won’t always be this way. Let’s go home...”

“Great game, Madredi!”

“You too, Cam! I can’t wait for a rematch in practice soon!”