KORDA
Chapter Ten
It was good to be myself again. Nyssa and Tegan teased me for a long time about being theirs; I was all right with that. In fact I was thrilled to be invited to play for Carson's batona team the next day, the Malleson Malegueña (amateur but competitive, not a mere street team) against the Menzies Madres - so we stayed a day longer than we'd planned. I spent an hour and a half in the evening preparing with a series of stretches and some upper body strength exercises. The best exercise for flamenco is flamenco, but it's an emotional endeavor and I wanted to save that for the game.
The game almost didn't happen. Drunken students from a neighboring planet, Zoltan, celebrated their spring break about every three Earth years by invading Korda. Kordans respond by spraying them with Azmilon, which knocks them out and sobers them up. The students, conscious or otherwise, are then shoved onto their spacecraft, which sits wherever it has landed until its pilot, or an ambitious student who has achieved some form of coherence, drives it back to Zoltan. This was one of those years and the invaders had landed on the pitch of our chosen oval. The team captains – Carson and a woman named Whittier had to scramble to find a free one. This being accomplished, we all set off on foot to the new location, actually closer to the university than the original choice.
We had uniforms. The Malagueña wore cream, so I was allowed to keep my own clothes (I left my coat and hat behind). The Madres wore blue, all shades, as they had no official uniforms. We also had a guitarist, as did the Madres. Theirs was a tall woman with very short red hair. Ours was a dark-skinned young man with plenty of hair who was barely solid enough to hold the guitar but could evoke amazing sounds from it. Of course I had not rehearsed with the team and was ready to respond to whatever our guitarist played, but he politely asked me if I had a preference. Because I had heard it on the radio, I said "A Tu Vera" and of course he knew it., but then I quickly changed my mind and said "Colombiana Flamenca," because Carmen Amaya had taught me to that – to not much avail, as she was impossible to emulate. He gave me a sample of the speed. I was the designated dancer except for when it was my turn to bowl; dancers were not exempt, nor did I wish to be exempted. I asked the guitarist and the Malagueña's primary dancer, who, because I was guesting, was now the secondary, who danced only when the primary bowled, to speed things up a bit when it was my turn to bowl. I do not pretend to know all there is to know about batona but I did play a bit last time I was on Korda.
When I was just exercising, back at Sándorton, I did the opposite of what any real flamenco dancer would do and what I myself would do in a real game, even an amateur one. I would do it right this time: everything at once. I had no proper shoes; Carson dug up a pair for me in just the right size. They are more cricket shoes than flamenco shoes but the spiked soles work and there is a modification of the heel that also helps. I tapped tentatively on the dancing tile: the sound was perfect.
The toss had Malagueña batting first so the Madres' guitarist and dancer got into position. Carson batted first; there's a reason he's the captain, beyond his organizational skills. I was next and I didn't do badly at all; I wasn't dismissed until I had 29 runs. The Madres had great rhythm and by the end of the innings we were not exactly ahead but doing okay. It was my turn to dance. Our guitarist took his place. He tapped lightly on his instrument to remind me of the speed on which we'd agreed for every bowler but me; he would speed up for me when it was my turn to bowl. I struck a pose, knees bent, one arm curved up and the other curved, elbow outward but my hand on my stomach, and he began to play, much faster than the song is usually played. To my astonishment, an observer sitting on the grass stood up and began to sing it.
I can't tell you all the moves I made; I know I made vueltas (like flamenco pirouettes), which I had never fully mastered, much better than I ever thought I could, but apart from that, what I remember is the story I was dancing. I danced my anticipation upon arrival on Korda. I danced my rejection as a person in Sándorton, my joy on the oval there, the pain of being tenderized, not my helplessness but my defiance of it, my escapes, my delirium, yes I danced those maggots! I danced my love for everyone who had helped me. When the song was over, our guitarist started over and I danced some more. I danced myself dizzy; I danced myself into a frenzy. I had no idea until later how our bowlers did; I danced until it was time to break for lunch.
Well, I was too excited to eat; I'd seen the scoreboard and we had pulled into the lead, but my excitement was the aftermath of the dance. I was beside myself. Tegan made me drink some hot tea. There was tapas, which I tried but could not keep down. "Calm down, Doctor!" Nyssa sat me down; I leapt up and paced. I knew I was bowling next, and I knew I had to rest, but I couldn't, so I slowly stretched. As I did so, strangers came to tell me how well I had danced. I could barely take it in. I stopped stretching, sat down and practiced breathing. I seemed to have forgotten how to do that.
It didn't help that Tegan, perhaps in an attempt to distract me, told me that some of my moves had been quite sexy. Nyssa said I blushed deeply. I don't remember doing that, though I do remember my face feeling a bit hot for a moment. "Leave him alone," admonished Selena. "He needs his strength."
Despite all that, or maybe because of it, my concentration on the pitch was good and I successfully seamed the ball, dismissing every Madre batter, even though after the first two bowls they surely must have expected that. I should have varied my technique but as I have said, the batona ball is lighter than a cricket ball so when it worked the first time, I didn't take a chance; I stuck with what worked. which it did in large part thanks to the pace set by the guitarist and, of course, the secondary dancer; she was awesome. (I took over again after my over, and I admit I was subdued compared to my first dance, but I still evoked cheers, and we did well.)
I wasn't alone responsible for our final victory but I felt good about my part in it. In fact, I just plain felt good. Tegan and Nyssa were jumping up and down. Selena and Carson were hugging each other, hugging us, hugging their team. The Madres had not lost by much and at any rate were gracious; I got a few Madre hugs too.