After he showered, right before he hopped the plane back to New York, he quietly approached Laver and asked to have a word.
“Mr. Laver—” he started.
“Don’t be so formal, John. You are a tennis legend in your own right, not some pimply-faced groupie,” Laver interrupted with a warm smile. “Call me Rod like everyone else here.”
“Okay, Rod,” Mac said deliberately, just to get used to the sound of it. “Why do I get the feeling that something’s up with Connors?”
“What do you mean, John?” Laver said, puzzled. “I don’t follow.”
“Well, it’s like this,” he began. “Connors and I are kind of working up to a mano-a-mano on the courts, and I don’t wanna lose.”
“We’re all competitors, John. NO ONE here likes to lose. So what’s your point?”
“My point is, I think Connors is up to something.”
“Do you know all the rules of Wa’Carthikos, John?”
“I don’t know any rules. That’s why I’m wondering if Jimbo is conning me.”
“Well, as I said, we’re all competitors, we don’t like to lose,” Laver explained. “And the founders of this place will brook no rivalries or long, drawn-out series of matches. Such interactions create internal tension that reverse the processes that make Wa’Carthikos so magical.
“Once you and Jim play a singles match, you will never be allowed to play one another here, ever again. You will not be allowed to antagonize the loser once you come through the front gates. Do or say whatever you like once you go back to your own life, but you cannot bring it here.”
“That’s pretty interesting,” McEnroe said contemplatively. “So he is trying to job me.”
“Perhaps he is. That is between the two of you.”
“Well, is there like, a loophole around that, Rod?”
“No, John, there is not,” Laver replied quickly and somewhat forcefully. “You may play doubles with or against anyone else as often as you like. With the wonderful processes that they perform here, you can play five, six times a day if you like. But no rivalries!”
“Well tell me this, Rod,” John said slyly. “What if I bring an active player here?”
“Though I use the term “magic”, John, you won’t find Merlin or Aleister Crowley running around here,” Laver answered. “Everything here is real, even down to the reproductions of the hallowed Centre Court at Wimbledon, and Arthur Ashe Stadium at Flushing Meadows.
“Here in Wa’Carthikos, you have to train for a period of time to return to peak condition. It took me daily treatments for three weeks before I was back to my prime.
“But of course, I am much older than you. It might only take you a week. Your first day is always super, then you have some fall-off, and once you reach your peak, you still have to battle the fact that you are human, and nothing is ever perfect.”
McEnroe was silent for a few moments.
“Okay, then just one more thing, man, one more question for you,” Mac replied at length.
“Sure, John. What is it?”
“How long has Jimmy been coming here?”
“Once a day for about two weeks.”
“That stinkin’ rat!” Johnny Mac hissed under his breath.
Laver smiled.
“He tried to snooker you, mate.”
McEnroe decided right then and there that he would wait before he indulged in his singles match with Connors. He was going to challenge Jimbo to a doubles match, instead, and there was only one man to have on his team...
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