On the next serve, I hit the net. As I set up for the second serve, I see her visibly relax, assuming my second serve will be safer.
Instead, I angle it to the corner. She returns it, but then I hit it back down the opposite line and it goes whistling right past her.
Game is mine. Now we’re 5–4. If I break her serve on this one, I win the match.
I watch her crack her knuckles as she goes back to the baseline. Maybe up against another player she’d be less nervous. It is her serve, after all.
But I am Carrie Soto. Break points are my moment. The evidence of it is branded all over my feet.
I can tell Antonovich’s muscles are tight. She did not think she would be here—the match this close, a loss to me threatening her 1995 season.
Her first serve is fast and hot. It has more fire on it than anything she’s hit so far. Still, I take the point. Love–15.
She stomps back to the baseline. And then hits her racket against the ground before catching herself.
I smile. She’s mad. She’s so mad.
On the next serve, she footfaults. Then nets it. Love–30.
I wink at her. Her face grows tighter.
On the next one, we rally and then she lobs it too high and the ball lands behind the baseline.
Match point.
I can do this. I am doing this. I just have to trust myself.
She hits a high kick serve. I get it on the rise. She returns it fast, exactly like I hoped. Here it is. I take it out of the air early and quick—a drop shot, right over the net.
It lands with such a beautiful, sweet, delicious thud.
Antonovich cannot get to it. She falls to the ground.
I leap into the air and shout. Gwen and Ali stand in their seats. The crowd roars.
I look right at the TV cameras for a brief second, knowing my father is looking right back at me.
Finally, over the loudspeaker come the words I have waited to hear.
“Carrie Soto advances to the championship final.”
My father is shouting at me through the phone. “You were incomparable! You were dynamic. You were interesting today, hija. Interesting! You played in a way that kept us all glued to the TV.”
I laugh as I sit down on the couch. The phone was ringing the moment I got in the door. I’ve barely had time to put my things down. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I am not exaggerating! Let me tell you something… At the end of the third set, you two were neck and neck. I watched you at the changeover. I saw you thinking it through. And I knew. I said to Bowe, I said, ‘She’s got it.’ And you did. Oh, he was so proud of you. He was beaming.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“He waited around for you to call, but there’s only so long the man wants to spend in an old guy’s house. Don’t worry. He and I talked at length about your brilliance today. I told him, I said, ‘She goes after what she wants on the court but not in real life. In real life, you have to be patient.’？”
“What are you even talking about? And stop, you don’t need to be discussing me with him.”
“Oh, Carrie, that ship has sailed. He comes every day, and after we are done playing chess and discussing his strategy for the US Open, what do you think we are going to do? Talk about the weather? This is Los Angeles. It’s sunny.”
“He’s coming every day?” I ask. I look over the room service menu as if I don’t know already that I’m going to order grilled chicken.
“Yeah, every day. He brings me breakfast and stays until after lunch. Or he brings me lunch and stays until after dinner. Honestly, it makes sense to me why he’s here all the time. Did you know his own father was embarrassed he was a tennis player instead of a professor or something?”
“I know a little.”
“Imagine! Imagine having your head that far up your own ass that you’re embarrassed your son is a champion.”
“All right, all right,” I say.
“I like him, Carrie. Even with all those tantrums.”
“I can tell.”
“No, I like him for you. I think this thing is verrrry interesting, you two.”
“Dad, cut it out.”
“And he thinks so too.”
“STOP IT OR I WILL GET OFF THE PHONE,” I say.
“Bueno, pero tengo razón,” he says. “When does Chan play?”
“Tonight. Soon.” I look at my watch. “Any second now, actually.”
“Ay,” he says. I hear him start to wrestle around for the remote. I can hear the TV turning on. So I sit down and turn on mine. I flip through the channels until I see that the match is just beginning.