This is your blockbuster for next summer.
A down-on-his luck screenwriter moves from L.A. to the desert and begins a career as a high school teacher and girls tennis coach.
Let's call him Stacy Haines.
One day in 1995 he is approached by a freshman who asks for a tryout. He asks if she has ever played tennis before. She tells him no. This can't be good, but he likes that she is tall, maybe 5 feet 10 inches, which is about a foot taller than any of the other girls on the team.
She also has an attitude. A bad one. The more Haines learns about this girl, he discovers that she is a dead-end kid who has survived a suicide attempt. She is unhappy and trusts no one. As a bonus, her grades are abysmal. He doesn't need to complicate his life any more than it already is, but the challenge appeals to him. He agrees. She can try out for the team.
Let's call her Claudia Meza.
With a tennis racquet in her hands, Meza is a laugh riot. Whenever she makes contact with a tennis ball, its destination is unknown. Some balls fly over the fence. Very few of them land in what she calls "the green area.''
The green area. Ha ha ha ha ha.
Haines, at heart, is a softy. He decides to stick with this 14-year-old and puts her on the junior varsity team. A few days later she tells him she might not be able to continue because she doesn't have a way to get home after practice. OK, Haines says, I'll give you a ride each day. Not that it does much to develop a bond between player and coach. On each drive home, she leans against the door and doesn't say a word.
It takes weeks for a thaw. But little by little, Meza begins to open up and trust her coach. Details of her troubled life - she calls it her "loco phase'' - come tumbling forth and catch Haines by surprise.
His JV tennis player has a rap sheet. She ran with a gang in Las Vegas where she lived with her mother, Maria, a housekeeper at Caesar's Palace. Her father, Amado, was not in her life. Oh, man, was Meza trouble. She didn't get along with her stepfather, she surrounded herself with a clique of girls who would end up in jail or pregnant and unwed. A rival gang told her they were going to kill her. After a feeble attempt at slashing her wrists, Meza pushed her mom to the limit.
She is sent to South Tucson to live with her grandparents, Manuel and Guillerma. They have no money - Manuel is incapacitated by a stroke - and they don't have the energy to fight their granddaughter. Instead, they shower her with love and hope for the best.
Initially, Meza resists. She gets in with the wrong crowd at Desert View. She stays out late. Her grades plunge. She is lonely and misses the excitement of running the streets in Las Vegas.
But gradually, at her grandmother's urging, she starts to go to church and becomes a Catholic. Haines is impressed by her work ethic and competitive fire. She applies that fire not just to tennis, but in the classroom. Her GPA goes from 1.5 to 3.5. She gets a job at the school. She makes better choices, stays out of trouble. She feels good about herself for the first time in her life - and it shows.
Plenty of tears fall in the loving environment of Grandma and Grandpa Meza. Tears of joy.
By the time Meza is a senior at Desert View, she takes honors classes and is one of the city's best tennis players. Those shots that used to fly over the fence now find the "green area'' regularly. She accepts grants - scholarships - to participate in summer tennis camps, one of them by former Tucsonan Jim Grabb, a regular on the ATP Tour. Grand Canyon University offers her a scholarship and she moves to Phoenix, whereupon she becomes the No. 17-ranked collegiate female tennis player in the West.
Long after Meza leaves his team, Haines appoints himself her coach, confidant and PR man. He arranges for her to practice with various pros in Tucson, no charge. He alerts the news media, detailing her accomplishments. He gets a wild idea that the tony Rick Macci Tennis Academy of Pompano Beach, Fla. - same place that has produced Jennifer Capriati, the Williams sisters and a long list of touring pros - will accept Meza, fly her to Florida and give her a summer of free instruction.
And damned if they don't go for it.
There is one thing that Meza is not and that's naive. But she is modest enough that when asked about her evolution from troubled kid to tennis champ, she throws up her palms and says "I thought it couldn't happen to me.''
But it did.
A week ago, movie director Spike Lee heard about Claudia Meza and her coach, Stacy Haines. Smart guy, this Spike Lee. He knows a great story when he hears one. Spike's people phoned, careful not to promise anything, but pledging to keep in touch while they examine the possibilities of producing a movie.
The ending? Who knows. Meza says she's got "Plan A, Plan B and Plan C,'' and if tennis doesn't work, she wants to be a teacher. She has a pretty good idea of the type of teacher she'd like to be. Just like Stacy Haines.
"He opened up a whole new side of me,'' she says. "He taught me that my dreams were possible, if only I had faith in myself. I love him to death.''
Greg Hansen's column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, and whenever the spirit moves him. He can be reached at 573-4362 or e-mail him at ghansen@azstarnet.com.
Back to Archives
Back to Main Page
