"Okay, Arnie," Michael said, "You're on Sports detail now. Here's your racket."
"Sports?" Arnie said, completely bewildered. He had been worried that he would be pulled off human-interaction duties entirely, after the incident with the ducks.
"Yeah, sports," Michael said. "It's a big enough thing now that we made a special group for it. You go down, find some poor guys who have a completely lousy team, and then we help 'em win. Kick the ball into the right goal. Give the bat a little extra push. Y'know. Usually we get kind of a tipoff beforehand; some kid who really wants them to win sends us a prayer or wishes on a star, something like that. Y’know. Like in the movie, the one with the guy. Well, maybe you wouldn’t. Before your time, I guess. Anyway."
Arnie blinked. "But...is that really fair? What about the other team?"
Michael shrugged. "Each request that comes in, we clear it higher-up. And I do mean Higher Up. That usually sorts it out. Also sometimes the other team calls in the other side and then it gets real fun. Anyhow, here's your assignment. Ashley Morrison. She just entered her college tennis tournament. She's been having a lousy year. Long story."
Arnie skimmed through the briefing scroll the Archangel had just handed him. It was heart-rending. Not only was Ashley last in her tournament and desperately hoping for the prize money to pay her way to further studies, on top of everything else, Ashley's pet goldfish had bubbled its last. As a result of all this, apparently the night before Ashley had looked out her dorm window and prayed desperately for some help in her upcoming tennis match.
"Now, technically," Michael said, "She asked for the patron saint of tennis, not an angel, but St. Sebastian's busy with, whatchamacall, Wimbledon or something like that coming up, so you'll have to do."
"Right," Arnie said. "I'll help her out, straight away!" He took the racket the Archangel had given him, saluted, and dived for the clouds. He had just passed the Pearly Gates when it occurred to him that he didn’t know how to play tennis in the first place. He hadn’t played before he became an angel, and since then he’d been otherwise occupied. Should he just bless Ms. Morrison in a generally benevolent sort of way and hope it worked out?
Fortunately, at that moment he caught sight of another angel lounging nearby one of the shining walls. “Hey,” the angel said. “You wouldn’t happen to be lookin’ for an explainer on how to play tennis, would ya?”
"Actually, yeah," Arnie said, "But how did you-"
The angel shrugged. "I hear things. Word gets around. Anywho. Name's Leon. Angel, second class. I used to be a big-time sports guy when I was alive. "
"Perfect," Arnie said. "So, how do you play this thing?" He held the racket gingerly by the wrong end, as if he were afraid it would whip around and bite him.
Leon smiled. “I’m so glad you asked, my friend. I’m so glad you asked.”
Ashley's first tennis match was the next day. After it it was over and Ashley had run away in hysterics (along with half the school and two-thirds of the teachers), Michael summoned Arnie before him.
"So," Michael said testily. "Do you want to explain to me why you called forth romantically involved elephants and a whole pack of hyenas on the tennis court?"
"Because those were the rules?" Arnie said. "After the first five minutes, when you’ve launched your ball at the other player, they're allowed to declare the magical exotic animal zone and conjure any animal they can think of onto the field in retaliation. I figured Ashley's magical skills were lacking, so I thought... I could... you know.... help."
"That," said Michael slowly, "is not how you play tennis."
"But.... but Leon said...."
"Leon?"
"Angel. Second class. I asked him about the rules."
"We don't have a Leon, angel second class. The other side, however, does. First rule of Sports Detail: the other side cheats."