Love Game - Season 2012 (36 page)

At the beginning of her career, she had
looked up a couple of times into the stands. Every young player made this
mistake. The immensity crushed you with a shocking realization – you were small
and insignificant. In her first match here on Arthur Ashe – what year had that
been? – she had looked up into the upper stands and lost in straight sets, 6-2
6-0. In her first final here at the U.S. Open she had done the same. In an act
of sheer cockiness she had looked at the masses of people who were cheering for
her, feeling invincible when she was about to serve for the match at 6-4 5-2.
She had lost the final.

Now Sasha was one game away from achieving
what she desired most. Revenge. She would put the Galloway twin in her place –
in front of the home crowd. Oh, and she would win a Grand Slam.

It could be over in three minutes. If she
served well. If Gabriella lost her nerve. She could only hope for it. So far,
the American had fought hard.

Did Sasha really want it? That was the
question. She had won the first set 7-6 in a long tiebreak that went to 14-12.
Only two points had decided the set. Passing each other on their way to their
benches to rest after the set, Gabriella had looked Sasha in the eye. Only for
a split second, but it was enough for Sasha to lose her balance.

She had spent the whole break after the
finished set trying to get Gabriella’s eyes out of her mind again and
concentrate back on the tennis. She wanted this. She needed to win. Deciding
the first set in her favor should have relaxed her, but in fact it only made
her think. Gabriella would come back even stronger, she feared. And this was a
close match already.

But that wasn’t true actually. It wasn’t
just a tight match. This was much better. It was electrifying, big hitting from
both of them. In every ball that contacted her racquet she felt that Gabriella
wasn’t holding back. She was swinging freely without inhibition, and so was
Sasha.

Something was going on, Sasha thought while
biting her lip. And damn, she liked it. Yes, she liked the feel of Gabriella’s
ball on her racquet strings. She squinted her eyes to get the thought out of
her system.

 “Time,” the Lynn said into the microphone.
Sasha nodded and got up. Revenge and a Grand Slam was waiting one game away. It
was a no brainer.

Sasha’s big first serve forced Gabriella to
make a huge leap. She touched the ball with her racquet but it went into the
net.

“15 – Love.”

The next serve was so fast Gabriella could
only get her racquet frame on it. With a hollow bang the ball went high into the
stands and from across the court Sasha could hear a shout of frustration from
Gabriella. It would get her a code violation warning for verbal obscenity,
Sasha knew.

“30 – Love,” the chair umpire announced
followed by the inevitable warning for Gabriella. Sasha almost chuckled.
Gabriella could be a bit obscene, she remembered.

The Czech went back to the baseline. She
let the ball bounce, concentrated on the toss and served a bomb down the
T-line. It was just as fast as the last one, but this time Gabriella answered
with a powerful backhand return. They exchanged hard-hit groundstrokes until
the baseline rally ended with Gabriella running down a dropshot and pushing a
winner down the sideline.

“30 – 15.”

The next point was decided by Gabriella
with a crosscourt forehand. The American crowd went berserk, and Sasha’s hands
began to sweat. She had lost her lead.

“30 all.”

Sasha went to the back of the court, giving
the ball kid a sign to bring her the towel. She needed a few seconds to
regroup. The next point was crucial. Match point for her or break point for
Gabriella. Damn the stupid obscenity warning. The thought of Gabriella
whispering those words into her ear had completely thrown her. For a moment,
she buried her face in the towel and slowly exhaled. She needed a good first
serve. Then she gave the towel back and took the balls the ball boy handed her.

A 116 mph serve forced a floater from
Gabriella’s racquet. Rushing to the front of the court, Sasha let it bounce,
then hit a spinning forehand into the corner.

Match point.

Walking to the back of the court Sasha
found the way endlessly long. She tried to breathe steadily to slow her heart
rate down. One more bouncing routine, one more toss. Revenge and Grand Slam.
Revenge and Grand Slam. The serve she hit wasn’t very fast but it landed in the
service box and sometimes that was the wise thing to do. Just get it in. Of
course, Gabriella answered with a deep return but Sasha got the ball back just
as deep.

A crosscourt backhand from Gabriella. A
short-angled shot from Sasha. Gabriella ran to the net and sent a backhand down
the line. The spectators were already shouting in relief as they believed that
their American player had saved match point. But Sasha ran the ball down to
lift a lob over Gabriella’s head that landed on the baseline. The ball bounced
up again and Gabriella rushed back.

Sasha had stopped at the baseline and
watched. Was she really going to do it? Of course, she was. Gabriella was
trying to save match point. At the last second, before the ball hit the ground,
the American hit the ball back between her legs, sending a roar of excitement
through the stadium. It landed short in Sasha’s side of the court. The Czech
ran to the net, hit the ball over it – but Gabriella was there. With a backhand
slice she took the pace out of the rally, giving herself enough time to
position herself again. This was still match point for Sasha.

Five groundstrokes later, Sasha’s ball
clipped the net. It went up into the air, dropped into Gabriella’s side of the
court and bounced up again. The crowd collectively inhaled, then stopped
breathing. Again, Gabriella ran. Just before the ball hit the ground a second
time she shoved her racquet underneath. The ball went high over the net and
landed near the service line on Sasha’s side.

It had almost no pace on it. Sasha knew it
would be easy to hit. Now she only had to decide where to place her U.S. Open
match point winner. With Gabriella waiting for a shot to her backhand as this
side of the court was more wide open, Sasha went for the forehand side. She hit
the ball hard, aiming for the right corner.

But then Sasha’s jaw dropped open.

Gabriella was flying through the air,
racquet first, reaching for the laser-like ball. In full stretch she put her
racquet on the ball and sent it back. Then her body crashed hard onto the
concrete court.

In unison the crowd let out a moan,
indecisive as to whether to watch their American player on the ground or the
ball which was sitting up nicely for Sasha to hit it a second time. The court
was wide open. No opponent to be able to run down the last shot of this final.
Making a few steps to get into the perfect position, Sasha got ready to go for
the kill. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gabriella covering her face with
her hands. Her mouth was contorted with pain. Dark curls spread over the
concrete.

One more shot. Revenge and a Grand Slam.

***

The hot concrete felt sticky on her bare
legs and her shoulders.

Or perhaps it was Gabriella sticking to the
concrete with sweat. When the pain ripped through her torso she had folded her
hands before her eyes. She wasn’t sure anymore if she had uttered a sound, but
if so it would have been the same moan that came from the thousand mouths
surrounding her. She had tried. She really had. But the crowd’s murmur that was
audible on the court suddenly seemed two octaves deeper. They were
disappointed.

But more devastating for her than their
uttered disappointment over a lost Grand Slam final was the realization that
she had failed. Sasha hadn’t looked at her – not once. After every point, at
every changeover she had started an attempt to get Sasha’s attention. Just once
was she able to catch her glance. And the Czech had frowned and stared back
angrily.

Yes, Gabriella had played a great final.
She had tried to stay on this court with Sasha as long as possible, but the
Czech had been too determined. When she had stepped onto Arthur Ashe she had
nothing to lose, she told herself. No reason to cry now. Love meant nothing.
She needed to get up, check if she was hurt, even though Gabriella knew she
wasn’t. Probably just a bruise. And now she had enough time to nurse it. The
pain that invaded her body was just the realization of having failed. Lying on
the ground it had simply sunk in more quickly than usual.

No, Gabriella sighed and opened her eyes,
she really needed to get up and shake hands with Sasha, who would already be
waiting at the net. The Czech would want to get ready for the trophy ceremony.
Gabriella jumped to her feet, demonstrating that she wasn’t hurt. Yes, there
was Sasha leaning on the net, waiting for the handshake, so Gabriella jogged to
the net reaching out her hand.

But to her surprise Sasha pulled both her
hands back.

“Are you alright?” Sasha whispered.

The words hit Gabriella like a shock. Sasha
was talking to her. She was looking at her.

“Yes,” Gabriella said quickly. She was
still reaching out her hand but Sasha didn’t take it. She shook her head.

“We are not done yet.”

Baffled, Gabriella looked at Lynn
Pebblestone. Covering the microphone with one hand, the umpire leaned forward.
“We are at Deuce,” she told Gabriella.

“But – ,” Gabriella started and looked back
at Sasha, who was still standing uncomfortably at the net. A ball girl rushed
by to pick up a ball lying on the ground by the net and the Czech quickly
turned around to the back of the court. Gabriella paused. A ball in the net. On
Sasha’s side. Sasha had mishit that sitting duck?

A warm feeling grew inside Gabriella’s
chest. She watched Sasha’s back and her brunette ponytail bounce a little as
she walked back to the baseline. How much would she have given to jump over
that stupid net and give the woman she loved a big hug?

Gabriella went back to her bench and
quickly rubbed the sweat off her body. Appearing again from under the towel, the
spectators greeted her with a loud cheer, happy that this match wasn’t over
yet.

Sasha’s first serve crashed into the net.
The second went out wide. With a double fault the Czech had given Gabriella the
advantage to break right back. Seconds later Sasha netted an easy forehand.

It was 5-5, the crowd was cheering, and it
was Gabriella’s turn to serve. She looked across the net and could hardly
believe it. This match wasn’t over.

***

“They are shitting us,” Monica declared.
“They really are.”

Speechless, Antonia Sapore and Martina
Rodriguez nodded. The match had their full attention. They had joined Monica
Jordan in the players’ lounge while waiting for their own final in the doubles
competition.

“The insanity of this makes me crave ice
cream,” Martina mumbled. “Or popcorn.”

“They have
gelato
in the players’
restaurant,” Antonia informed her.

“Which is suspicious,” Martina said
absentmindedly. With every shot in the ongoing rally on the screen she dug her
fingers deeper into the couch.

“Why?” Monica asked without turning her
head away from the screen.

“When was the last time you had ice cream
during a tournament?” Martina asked back. She didn’t wait for an answer. “See?
The stuff in the players’ lounge fridge is probably from 1972 when tennis
players still ate burgers with French fries and mayo and ice cream and
chocolate.”

Monica and Antonia nodded. Then they all
screamed in unison.

“Oh, what a shot!”

Gabriella had hit a forehand on-the-run
which landed on the baseline and won her the game.

“
Incredibile!
Can I borrow that?”
Antonia blurted out. “What are they doing out there?”

“Tennis porn,” Martina grinned.

“Good stamina, too,” Antonia remarked. The
camera man had pointed the camera at the court clock. Sasha and Gabriella had
been playing for three and a half hours now. It was 3-4 in the third set and
both players went to their benches to take a quick rest.

“This could become the rivalry of the next
decade,” Martina said. “They really give each other a run for their money.”

“For the spectators’ money, too,” Monica
chuckled. “I’m really proud of Gabriella.”

“She definitely changed over the last
year,” Antonia pondered. “For a while I had the feeling she was getting laid.
Sex is definitely a game changer. Just look at me!”

Antonia had climbed the rankings steadily
in the past months and was now knocking on the door of the Top 10.

“Damn right.” Martina slipped down into the
couch cushions, and began to stroke Antonia’s bare thigh.

“She’s hot. We should ask for a threesome,”
the Argentine joked pointing at Gabriella on the screen.

“Stop talking like that,” Monica giggled
and gave Martina a slap on the hand. “She’s my protégée and she’s a nice girl.”