by M. B. Gerard
“She is challenging the call,” Hugh said in surprise.
“Well, the serve was clearly in. Either there is something wrong with her eyesight, or – ,” Sam began.
“She’s doing it again. She’s trying to break Auster’s rhythm,” Hugh finished Sam’s thought.
They both stared down onto the court in wonder. Sasha had never resorted to the little tricks tennis players once in a while used to put an opponent off like taking a long bathroom break, or repeatedly catching the tossed ball. This behavior was very unusual.
“There you go,” Sam sighed, when the video screen showed that Amanda’s serve was well within the service box. “That was her third bad challenge.”
“No challenges left for Mrachova,” Hugh explained into the microphone. “But she might get a warning soon for racquet abuse.”
Down on the court Sasha had hit her racquet onto the ground again. She shouted angry words at herself but when she had to serve to stay in the set she managed to hold.
“5-4,” Sam stated. “Now, can Auster take this match into a deciding set?”
She could. Three minutes and two aces later, pumping her fist, Amanda went back to her chair with a little jog. She had just won the second set.
***
Against all expectations she had not crumbled against the mighty Sasha Mrachova nor had she given in to the pressure of playing a Grand Slam final. After the lost first set the crowd got behind Amanda and, as the match moved on, was awed by her ruthless shotmaking. Every time she had won a point, she had let the roar of the stadium wrap her up. In this fortnight she had gained a lot of fans.
It was strange. With a little gesture Elise had freed her mind. As if the blown kiss and the wave of Elise’s hand had magically touched the whole stadium and made it her home, it had brought a calmness Amanda never had before. In the past it had made her nervous when her girlfriend were in the stands cheering for her but now it inspired her to play even better. But Elise wasn’t expecting a win. She just wanted Amanda to play her game and relish the occasion while Elise sat in her box adoring her play on the biggest stage of the tennis world. And here she was, face-to-face with her nemesis in the vastness of Arthur Ashe Stadium, but Amanda who had always been awfully careful to hide her emotions and who would discourage her girlfriends from publicly displaying any affection toward her felt secure.
After the second set there had been a quick exchange of words between Sasha and the chair umpire. Amanda had not been able to understand the words as Sasha had anrily hissed them at Anastasia Stea. She clearly was overwhelmed by finally losing a set to Amanda. Throughout the entire set break Amanda had been trying to surpress a huge grin. At last she had taken a set off the Czech. At last. Perhaps she could win another one? Everything seemed possible suddenly.
The third set had become a close affair, too. Neither of the players let go and most of the games went to deuce multiple times. Amanda could sense Sasha’s anger spreading over the stadium and reaching out for her with every shot that Sasha smacked over the net.
It was 3-4 and Amanda knew she needed to hold at all costs. But Sasha had found a way to return Amanda’s serves and dictate the play again, hitting her groundstrokes into the corners unable for Amanda to reach. And finally Sasha had a break point on Amanda’s serve. Standing at the baseline, Amanda breathed in deeply. If she got broken in this game it would be over. She knew it. Everyone knew it. The stadium seemed to have gone completely silent.
Amanda hit an excellent serve to Sasha’s backhand but the Czech was able to return it, even though it fell short in the front of the Amanda’s side of the court. Amanda rushed forward and smashed it back into the court, but sprinting across the concrete Sasha was able to get her racquet on the ball. It flew up high over Amanda’s head. There wasn’t that much a player could do against a lob when standing that close to the net. Most of the times Amanda only watched it fly. Either it landed in or it was wide. But this time she ran back to the baseline while watching the ball descend. Just when it landed right on the line, Amanda reached it, took a leap and hit it back through her legs. It landed in the open court and Sasha was unable to get to it. The Czech was simply standing there watching the ball.
The amazing shot had sent the crowd to their feet. They were cheering and screaming down to the court. Amanda could feel the adrenaline in her fingertips. She won the next two points to hold.
And then she won the next four points to break Sasha Mrachova to love. It was 5-3.
When Amanda sat down in her chair she looked across the court. Three minutes were a long time. She tried to clear her mind and calm her breath. But her hands felt shaky suddenly. She was so close. Closer than she’d ever thought she would be. She could actually win a match against none other than Sasha Mrachova. It would happen to be a Grand Slam final.
“Time.”
Anastasia Stea’s voice sounded as unaffected as ever and without waiting another second, the Australian player stood up, then reached the baseline jogging under the applause every player received when serving for a match.
***
Anastasia Stea entered the restaurant and looked around but the other five female chair umpires had already spotted her and waved for her to come over. Anastasia was one of the youngest umpires that worked on the tour, but she was one of the best. The match today had been only the second Grand Slam final she had called, but everyone had assured her that it wouldn’t be the last. Even after the strange and nasty incident with Sasha she was sure that this was only the beginning. There were many more Grand Slam finals to come.
But as soon as she had sat down, the others were inquiring about the call that had stirred up Sasha’s emotions and was already being heatedly discussed in the media.
“I overturned a call that would have given Sasha break point,” Anastasia explained.
“Why didn’t she challenge your call?”
“She had no challenges left. She had already challenged four times in the second set. She was right in only one case.”
When Sasha was unable to do anything about Anastasia’s overrule she had walked up to the umpire chair and had begun to argue with Anastasia.
Anastasia had stayed calm but at one point Sasha had suddenly paused. For a short moment she had looked at the ground, contemplating, then she had looked up to the umpire again.
“You,” she had hissed with a little laugh. “I should have seen it coming. It’s you, first with your winks, now this.”
Anastasia knew that during a match emotions could heat up and that the players didn’t mean any of their words personally. But in this case it was different. Sasha’s words were not only inappropriate but to Anastasia she had clearly hinted at the intimate encounter the player and the umpire had had some months earlier in Eastbourne. Sasha seemed angry at Anastasia and it had nothing to do with the tennis match. The outburst had been embarrassing and Anastasia only hoped that no one would question the remarks, but this behavior was highly unusual for Sasha, who was not known for getting emotional or even indignant towards the umpires or lines people. “Insane to say these things right in front of the microphones,” commented Lynn Pebblestone. “I wonder what was going on in her head.”
“You know it was only one night, right? Nothing more. I thought it was fine with her.” Anastasia looked around the table. “You also know that I don’t mix business with pleasure. Whatever she might have been thinking, my calls were absolutely correct.” She swallowed.
“Oh, don’t worry, honey,” Camilla Sanchez said. “I saw the match and she played poorly right from the start of the second set. It had nothing to do with your calls. She just wanted to let off steam because she was losing.”
“Yes, looks like it,” Anastasia wondered but wasn’t convinced. Whenever Sasha was down in a match she would become even more competitive and emulous. She never let off steam, she used it instead to up her game. Also, Sasha would never mix business with pleasure either. This incident was very strange, and she couldn’t find a convin
cing explanation for it. Well, perhaps the others were right. This was a Grand Slam final and Sasha got emotional as she was determined to win it. Anastasia shrugged and turned her attention back to the other umpires.
“For a moment I thought Sasha was back in the match,” Lynn mused. “It looked like she wanted to steamroll over Amanda.”
“Yes, it was really wonderful to see how calm Amanda stayed,” Camilla said. “I’m really happy for her. She absolutely deserved that win.”
“Speaking of Amanda,” Anastasia grinned. “Has anyone else seen the kiss Elise blew Amanda in between the first and the second sets.”
“Yes,” Camilla giggled. “So cheeky. Don’t you just love that girl?” The umpires laughed. Everyone was pretty sure that Amanda and Elise would win the award for cutest couple at the end of the season.
“I bet no one saw that connection coming,” Anastasia shook her head. “At least I didn’t. I was really taken by surprise when I first learned that they would play doubles. But that they would become a couple? Never.”
She looked around. All the other umpires were confirming her surprise by shaking their heads. Only Lynn looked smug.
“Well, you’ll find out soon enough, so I may as well tell you,” Lynn said. “I’ve placed my bet on them.”
The other umpires stared at Lynn, but then accepted the fact that the Welsh umpire had once again outplayed them.
“That’s so typical,” Camilla sighed. “How do you do that? Why do you always know?”
“Good eyesight,” Lynn explained. “I had the feeling that at the very least Elise had had a crush on Amanda for a long time. But sometimes it takes time and I thought that after the injury she would become more mature, and I think I was right.”
The others nodded with admiration. Yes, Elise really had grown up. She seemed to be a good match for Amanda. Today’s win was Amanda’s greatest success so far, and the umpire couldn’t help but wonder if part of it had to do with Elise and her positive influence on Amanda.
***
The music was too loud and the counter was sticky. Moving uncomfortably in the bar stool Tom glanced over to the woman who had dragged him out tonight. He had complained and pleaded having a headache but Candice wouldn’t have it. She owed him for the video he had made for the WTA about Monica and Agnes and was determined to cheer him up. Candice was nice, and she thought his bad mood was still the result of his break-up.
Monica, Agnes and Candice were having a good time on the dance floor. The girls were thrilled and they had good reason to be. Monica and Agnes had won their doubles finals. They were the brand new US Open champions. And that was big, proving one more time they were quite the effective team of the moment. All of a sudden, an old disco tune pierced the air turning the whole nightclub upside down. Grabbing his hand, Candice winked at him.
“C’mon, young boy! Come with me on the dance floor and start the hottie hunt!” Hottie hunt? Tom shook his head and his boss went back to the dance floor to her girlfriend and Monica.
He couldn’t let go of his misery, couldn’t forget about it. The fact that he had lost all his evidence was puzzling him. Good-bye photos, notes, analysis. Mission failed. What had happened to his files? When he had realized that all the files were gone he had first thought of a virus on his computer. But a check-up wouldn’t confirm that. It was strange. The whole folder that contained all the pictures and notes was gone. Nothing else however. He finally concluded that all the evidence Tom had regrouped over the past months had been stolen from him. Stolen.
Tom looked at the bottom of his glass. Besides Ted he hadn’t talked to anybody about his blog. Someone knew about him, about what he was doing. Someone might have seen him taking the pictures. It was the only possible explanation. Perhaps the Galloways? Or could it be Ted after all? Of course, Ted could have told someone else.
Tom looked up only to see Monica Jordan, who had approached the other end of the counter to get a drink. She was quite the character with a wonderful humor. Tom liked her, just as he liked Candice and Agnes. Everyone was so nice and friendly to him. Tom bit his lip as doubts began to creep in. Too friendly? Why were all these doubles players so nice with him, suddenly? Did they know something they shouldn’t? Did they know about his blog? He shook his head and watched Monica maneuvering through the guests with three cocktail glasses. The three women had settled down on a table and were chatting. Could it be that his assignment to work with the doubles players was a trap set up by Candice? Had Ted talked to her?
He tried to recall his conversations with the doubles pairs and suddenly he realized that he had told Antonia and Martina about Ted and himself. He had tried to guide the conversation to find out about other gay and lesbian players but the two players wouldn’t tell him. They had suddenly become awfully guarded. Yes, now that he thought about it, they had become suspicious and had refused to talk about it. As if they knew what he was up to or just needed confirmation that he was indeed looking for information.
Tom moaned in frustration but no one heard it in the loud club. He had given away his secret. He had not been careful enough. His straw hit the bottom of his glass and Tom realized that one drink wouldn’t be enough tonight. He needed more, a lot more.
***
“It’s been ages since I’ve been out that late,” Amanda laughed. She clung to Elise who hadn’t drunk that much but still had trouble opening the hotel room door.
“You’ll make us fall,” Elise giggled.
“I wouldn’t mind falling on you,” Amanda slurred her words.
As soon as they had entered the room Amanda fell head-on onto the bed. Finally the excitement of winning a Grand Slam had tapered off and the exhaustion of the last two weeks had taken its toll
“Are you sleeping already?” Elise asked.
“Yes,” Amanda answered. “I’m dead.”
“I've heard that before,” Elise said with a smile. Amanda rolled over and smiled at Elise. They both recalled the night a week ago after Amanda’s fourth round win and had to grin.
“Come on, sleepyhead,” Elise murmured and gestured for Amanda to lift her arms over her head. Slowly she undressed her girlfriend and put her in her pyjamas before slipping under the blanket with her. Amanda closed her eyes.
This was their first quiet moment together since they had said good-bye in the locker room and Elise had told her to enjoy herself. It seemed like a lifetime ago. And indeed her life had changed in the last few hours. Suddenly, in the quietness of the room, all the emotions that had had time to build up rushed through her blood like a wild river flooding the heart. It had been beating for so long, driven to fulfill this dream of hers. It had been full of fear and sorrow whenever she had failed in the past. And suddenly she had reached and fulfilled her childhood dream. Yes, it was as good as she had imagined it would be.
Without noticing it, she had begun to sob. Only when Elise sat up she realized that she was crying.
“What’s up?” Elise asked. But when Elise put her arms around her, she began to sob even harder. With closed eyes, Amanda shook her head. Elise waited.
“I just can’t believe how lucky I got.”
“Lucky?” Elise gave her a squeeze. “You know it wasn’t luck? You earned that win.”
But Amanda had been talking about something else. Something that she now realized had changed her more than a Grand Slam win ever would.
“I don’t mean the match,” she said solemnly. “I mean you.”
They sat there for a while not speaking a word. But when Amanda still sobbed from time to time Elise gave her another squeeze.
“Well, I guess that is true,” she said with a serious tone. “You really should consider yourself lucky. You are in bed with a Wimbledon quarterfinalist!” She nodded to herself to underline her point.
“Quarterfinalist?” Amanda snorted. “I’m the U.S. Open champion!”
Elise grinned. “See? No reason to cry.” Elise had a fine sense for humor and she was right. Amanda had every reason
to be happy. Here she was, a new Grand Slam champion, in bed with a gorgeous Grand Slam quarterfinalist. It really couldn’t get any better.
Tokyo, Japan
“For next year we will figure out a schedule that suits both of us,” Elise said smiling from the screen. Amanda sat in front of her computer and nodded. She missed Elise. They had barely had any time to themselves since Amanda had won the U.S. Open. The new champion was in constant demand by TV stations and newspapers who wanted to run stories on her and her win. Since she had returned back home to Australia there had been even greater demands on her.
Tokyo seemed like a welcome peace after all the preceding tightly scheduled days.
“Should be easy with your ranking now,” Amanda contemplated. Elise had entered the Top 30 just before the Open due to good runs in the last tournaments.
Just when they wanted to start talking about the tournaments they would play Amanda’s mobile rang. She checked the number.
“Some European number,” she wondered.
Who could that be?
But as soon as she answered the phone she wished she hadn’t.
“Amanda,” Ted Curry’s voice sounded pressed. “I’m so glad I finally reached you!”
“I’m in Tokyo, Ted.” Amanda looked at her computer screen. Elise was waiting on the other end. “This will cost you a fortune, so you better make it short.”
“I don’t care how much it costs,” Ted said. “I wanted to tell you something, but you were so busy and unavailable in New York.”
“I was busy winning a Grand Slam, Ted.”
“Yes, yes,” he said apologetically. “Congratulations, by the way. But this is more important.”
Amanda looked over to Elise and shrugged her shoulders.
