Fic: Goodbye, My Friend
Title: Goodbye, My Friend
Author: shana
Dedication: Forslyreflection because she requested it, and for liroa15 for all she does.
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. Also, not true. I made it all up.
Pairing:David Ferrer, Juan Carlos Ferrero
Warning: Retirement?
Rating: PG-13
The letter he finds in his tennis bag bears Juan Carlos's tidy writing across the envelope. They just said their goodbyes out on the court, and Juan Carlos is busy with his family and friends. Juanqui must have put the letter in his bag after the match.
Juan Carlos's press was shorter than he expected, but then his old friend isn't a tennis player anymore. The obligations aren't the same, and for once, it seems like the press was willing to respect that.
He picks up the letter and holds it. He's got no idea what it says, but there's no rush. Not really. Juanqui's words will still be there whenever he's ready to read them. And if Juanqui wanted to talk about it, he wouldn't have put it on paper.
Still, it's like a secret, and as he turns the envelope over in his hands, he can't help but wonder what Juan Carlos would have put to paper instead of just saying it.
The paper when he slides it out is pristine, and the black ink stands out sharply when he unfolds the page.
Ferru,
This is our final match. One way or another. I won't say that I wouldn't rather win. We always want to win. It's part of what makes us tennis professionals. It also makes us difficult men with whom to be friends.
By the time you read this, I will have told you what an honour it was to play beside you and against you. Even if you were frustration incarnate. You must remember, you are a truly talented player. Believe me when I say this. You play in the shadows of the giants of our sport, and so you will not see it. Remember, you have always been a giant killer. Tiny David, so much like old story.
Take a moment to cherish the simple things about what we do when on tour. Take pleasure in a good practice or a hard fought victory. Those are the things I always missed when I was injured. I suspect they will be the things I will miss now that I am retired. Retirement is my way of admitting I can't enjoy those things the way I used to. It's my way of moving on to new things to enjoy.
My largest regret about all the years I spent on tour is that I didn't win everything, but a close second is that I didn't bother to try more things. I never bothered to make time for things beyond tennis. I always thought there would be time after tennis to see the world and explore, but it won't be the same. Take advantage of what you have now while you still have it.
That's all the advice I have for you. You hardly need wisdom from me about your drop shot or some such. You are a superb player. I will miss talking to you the most of all the friends I have on tour. I am thankful that we have the Valencia tournament to stay connected at least once a year.
It goes without saying that you are always welcome at the Academy or to come and train with me when you get sick of Nico or Tommy or Marcel or Feliciano. Especially when you get sick of Feliciano. I will need something to keep me entertained.
My most heartfelt thanks for the memories and this one last match. There's no one with which I'd rather share it.
With deepest affection,
Juan Carlos Ferrero Donat
David carefully folds the letter and slides it back into its envelope, which is placed in his racquet bag with care so it won't get bent or creased.
He's supposed to take his tennis things back to his home and then get ready to go out and say goodbye to one of his best friends in a public manner. Be of course he wants to spend an evening that will ensure nothing will ever be the same again surrounded by the press.
The party is well under way by the time David actually makes it to the restaurant. He idly notes that Feli seems like he's been drinking, so Juanqui might get another chapter in his favourite soap opera, and then goes to find the guest of honour.
"Carlos was telling me that I'll really start to notice being retired when the new year comes around and I'm not in Australia with the rest of you."
David hates interrupting what looks like a serious conversation with Rafa, but as one of the people charged with hosting this, he needs to at least say hello.
No one has to know if he hugs Juanqui just a little bit too tight or holds on a second too long. And if Rafa notices, he'll never say because he's been here before. He's already lost his mentor and friend to retirement.
It's the end of a era and some show of mourning is to be expected after all, and he's never been good with words.
Fini.
S
Author: shana
Dedication: Forslyreflection because she requested it, and for liroa15 for all she does.
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. Also, not true. I made it all up.
Pairing:David Ferrer, Juan Carlos Ferrero
Warning: Retirement?
Rating: PG-13
The letter he finds in his tennis bag bears Juan Carlos's tidy writing across the envelope. They just said their goodbyes out on the court, and Juan Carlos is busy with his family and friends. Juanqui must have put the letter in his bag after the match.
Juan Carlos's press was shorter than he expected, but then his old friend isn't a tennis player anymore. The obligations aren't the same, and for once, it seems like the press was willing to respect that.
He picks up the letter and holds it. He's got no idea what it says, but there's no rush. Not really. Juanqui's words will still be there whenever he's ready to read them. And if Juanqui wanted to talk about it, he wouldn't have put it on paper.
Still, it's like a secret, and as he turns the envelope over in his hands, he can't help but wonder what Juan Carlos would have put to paper instead of just saying it.
The paper when he slides it out is pristine, and the black ink stands out sharply when he unfolds the page.
Ferru,
This is our final match. One way or another. I won't say that I wouldn't rather win. We always want to win. It's part of what makes us tennis professionals. It also makes us difficult men with whom to be friends.
By the time you read this, I will have told you what an honour it was to play beside you and against you. Even if you were frustration incarnate. You must remember, you are a truly talented player. Believe me when I say this. You play in the shadows of the giants of our sport, and so you will not see it. Remember, you have always been a giant killer. Tiny David, so much like old story.
Take a moment to cherish the simple things about what we do when on tour. Take pleasure in a good practice or a hard fought victory. Those are the things I always missed when I was injured. I suspect they will be the things I will miss now that I am retired. Retirement is my way of admitting I can't enjoy those things the way I used to. It's my way of moving on to new things to enjoy.
My largest regret about all the years I spent on tour is that I didn't win everything, but a close second is that I didn't bother to try more things. I never bothered to make time for things beyond tennis. I always thought there would be time after tennis to see the world and explore, but it won't be the same. Take advantage of what you have now while you still have it.
That's all the advice I have for you. You hardly need wisdom from me about your drop shot or some such. You are a superb player. I will miss talking to you the most of all the friends I have on tour. I am thankful that we have the Valencia tournament to stay connected at least once a year.
It goes without saying that you are always welcome at the Academy or to come and train with me when you get sick of Nico or Tommy or Marcel or Feliciano. Especially when you get sick of Feliciano. I will need something to keep me entertained.
My most heartfelt thanks for the memories and this one last match. There's no one with which I'd rather share it.
With deepest affection,
Juan Carlos Ferrero Donat
David carefully folds the letter and slides it back into its envelope, which is placed in his racquet bag with care so it won't get bent or creased.
He's supposed to take his tennis things back to his home and then get ready to go out and say goodbye to one of his best friends in a public manner. Be of course he wants to spend an evening that will ensure nothing will ever be the same again surrounded by the press.
The party is well under way by the time David actually makes it to the restaurant. He idly notes that Feli seems like he's been drinking, so Juanqui might get another chapter in his favourite soap opera, and then goes to find the guest of honour.
"Carlos was telling me that I'll really start to notice being retired when the new year comes around and I'm not in Australia with the rest of you."
David hates interrupting what looks like a serious conversation with Rafa, but as one of the people charged with hosting this, he needs to at least say hello.
No one has to know if he hugs Juanqui just a little bit too tight or holds on a second too long. And if Rafa notices, he'll never say because he's been here before. He's already lost his mentor and friend to retirement.
It's the end of a era and some show of mourning is to be expected after all, and he's never been good with words.
Fini.
S