King of the Court

Ein is equally genial to everyone (Are you having a good time? Isn't this great?), which is probably why everyone thinks they can ask for something:

Can I have a free racquet for my son? A poncho? A T-shirt?

"Can I take the vodka?" Samburg, the CEO, asks during the Sunday match. A bottle of Ciroc sits on the white tablecloth of every VIP table.

"I think it's a prop," says Ein. "But sure, you can have it if you want."

Everyone loves a freebie.

On another night, Ein gives Leonsis a tour of the stadium, including the VIP tents in the back where everyone eats free Chipotle.

A middle-aged woman approaches. She gives her name. Ein and Leonsis smile. She says she works for a theater. Ein and Leonsis smile. She says she just-needs-$2-million-to-make-this-theater-accessible-for-people-with-disabilities-and-it's-really-a-very-good-cause . . .

Ein laughs nervously, gently steering Leonsis away from the conversation that went so quickly off the rails.

"It's like that new Facebook thing," says Leonsis cheerfully. "Thanks for friending me. Can I have a million dollars?"

The rich have very different Facebooks from you and me.

* * *

Anna Kournikova is turning out to be somewhat of a problem. First, she needed Ein's driver, Harry, to make a separate trip to ferry her to the indoor rain site. Second, she's playing really badly.

While playing women's doubles, she chomps on a gigantic wad of gum, half-heartedly flicking her racket in the direction of the ball, missing more often than making contact, and looking like she'd rather not break a sweat.

This could be disastrous. No one paid good money, braved the rain and trekked to Hains Point to watch Kournikova be surly.

But then something happens. The fans do not care about Anna Kournikova. Instead, they are cheering for the home team: Jones and Mashona Washington, who score point after point after point.

Ein, the king of the Kastles, looks satisfied.