It was match point. The ball boy was holding his right arm in the air, poised to throw the ball to the server the moment it was motioned for. His other arm was down by his side, and he was rolling something around between his finger and thumb. He tried to fyerk it onto the court, but it proved too clingy. The server, now in positioned, grimaced at the ball boy, who quickly switched hands, throwing the tennis ball with the hand that had been loose by his side. The bogey stowed away in the woven felt of the ball's meridian.
by Roy Blows February 23, 2005