Hello again :) First of all, thank you again to everyone that has favourited or followed either myself or my story. It gives me great pleasure to know that there are 146 people out there that want to be alerted the moment I update this story. I hope it doesn't disappoint.
Also, thank you to everyone that has reviewed my story. The last update got 12 reviews, which is the most that I've had for any chapter so far. So yay! As always, I try to reply to everyone that writes me a review (which is only possible if you've enabled the PM option on here, so please check!), but again, thank you to everyone that wrote me a review as a guest. I am happy to write you replies as well if you leave an email address or something!
There is no Faberry in this forthcoming chapter, but as I have always said, this story is as much about Rachel's journey as a person and player as it is about our two favourite ladies. I believe you see some real character development in this chapter, and I'd love to know if you guys agree.
Finally, the actual French Open is just around the corner, which is very exciting for a tennis fan such as myself! On that note, happy reading everyone :)
Rachel glanced up at the blue sky, distractedly marveling at the glorious weather. The tennis player had arrived in Birmingham the day after her exit from Roland Garros, and barring the occasional early morning shower, had been treated to the best of the English summer.
Shelby and Rachel had set straight to work to rid her of her clay feet, and after four days of practice on the Aegon Classic's grass courts, Rachel felt like she was finally getting comfortable on the faster surface.
It helped that Rachel was quite proficient on the surface to start with. The USTA had made sure that all players coming through it's ranks were given access to every type of playing surface, so the young American had spent her fair share of hours on clay and grass courts back home in the USA. While her good run on clay had surprised even the player herself, Rachel was determined to have even better results on the surface that she had always been at home on.
She was broken from admiring the weather when Shelby pulled up a chair and sat beside her on the practice court. The younger brunette raised her eyebrows in silent question, wondering why her coach was breaking from habit and sitting down in the middle of a training session. She had assumed she would just get to take a few of sips of her drink and a bite of her banana before being summoned back to court for more backhand drills.
Shelby got straight to the point, "So, is the plan to never, ever play another drop shot?" she asked, looking her charge right in the eye.
Rachel spluttered on the drink that was halfway down her throat, "I beg your pardon?"
"You can't fool me Rach. Don't think I haven't noticed that you haven't played a single drop shot in the last four days" Shelby stated. "And before you give me some nonsense excuse, let me tell you that I have intentionally given you dozens of chances to hit the shot. I mean, just now I was playing from almost two meters behind the baseline!"
Shelby's expression softened when she saw the turmoil in her charge's eyes. Reaching out, she laid her hand on Rachel's arm, "This is about your last match, right?"
Rachel couldn't meet her eyes, "No! It's… I'm just trying to go on the offense more. I thought it was my shots that were keeping you so far behind the baseline, and it seemed like a good ploy."
Shelby didn't argue, "Ok. I believe you. But you should know, the drop shot is very effective in a real match. And", she waited for Rachel to look at her, "it was the right selection in that last point against Fabray."
"How can you say that?" Rachel asked, visibly angry. "It cost me the match!"
The older brunette took a deep breath, as if she'd expected this very reaction to her statement, "No, it didn't. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Fabray wouldn't have gotten the ball back in play. And you would have been back tied at deuce. In fact, I'll bet you couldn't pay her a million dollars to make that same shot again."
By this point Rachel's anger had given way to utter regret, and she was blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Shelby must have decided that it was time to change the subject, because when she spoke she said, "Did I ever tell you about my first professional match?"
Currently incapable of producing words, Rachel merely shook her head. Shelby continued, nonplussed, "I was eighteen. My competitor was a Swede named Edith Ward. She was pretty new too, playing her second year on tour. She was ranked two hundred and twenty seven in the world." She smiled, "You never forget these seemingly minor details. I'm sure you know everything about the first woman you faced as a professional too. But I digress. We played two terrible sets, which we split, and then both of us seemed to find form in the third set, which was a cracker. It went into a tiebreak, and I was up 6-2, with four match points, before she won it 8-6."
By this point Shelby had Rachel's full attention, and the now dry-eyed young American was staring at her, waiting for her to continue. So Shelby did, "I kept it together till I came off the court, but sobbed my heart out in the shower. I thought I had blown my one chance of a professional win, and was convinced I'd never win a match in my career. I was devastated." Shelby gave Rachel a pointed look, "But that wasn't how my story would end. I won matches, I won tournaments, I won Slams. And so will you."
Rachel looked unconvinced again, which only turned Shelby's gaze steely, "Rachel, if you're a quitter, then tell me now. I am not here to hold your hand and babysit you while you have a pity party. I'm here to coach you, to train you, to be the best player you can possibly be. I can deal with you having an off day on court, hell, we all have those. But I cannot work with someone who is so busy wallowing in what might have been that they can't learn from their experiences. I agreed to be your coach because I saw something in you, but if I was wrong then you need to tell me now, and we'll end this right here, right now."
Shelby's monologue seemed to bring Rachel back to her senses, "No, Shelby, I… I want to improve, to learn. I just…", she was at a loss for words.
Shelby nodded, "Good." Her features softened again, "Look kid, I'm not trying to be too hard on you, but this sport doesn't give you time to feel sorry for yourself. If you get stuck in that rut then you're never going to realize the potential I see in you. Tennis is not for the weak of heart. You think losing to Lopez for the third straight year at the French Open hasn't stung Fabray? Of course it has. But in one week she'll be back competing at the highest level, and in a year, she'll be back in Paris, trying to win the French again."
Rachel took a deep breath and nodded as her coach's words washed over her. "One last piece of advice Berry. Yes, tennis is all about being aware of what's happening on court, and playing the shot your brain tells you is the right choice. But, it's also about this" she said, resting her right hand over her heart. "It's about having the courage to be brave, and take chances. To come back from a tough loss even stronger. To play shots that defy any logic your brain can come up with, and having the conviction to know you've made the right call. I knew for certain that you have heart when I saw you play that drop shot against Fabray. And I believe it is that quality that will make you a champion someday. You have my word Rachel, keep working hard and a defeat in the quarterfinals of the 2012 French Open will not be the crowning achievement on your resume when you're finished with tennis."
At this point the young brunette was on the verge of tears again, although this time it was for a completely different reason. Rachel was beyond touched at her coach's belief in her, and she was determined not to let her down. Shelby looked her in the eye, "So I ask again, Rachel Berry. Are you a quitter?"
Rachel shook her head, "No Ms. Corcoran, I am not."
The coach smiled, "Good. Now, can we please go fine tune some drop shots?"
Rachel smiled, and stood from her seat. Grabbing her racket, she was about to head to her end of the court when a thought struck her. Turning, she addressed her coach, "Shelby, your first opponent, Edith Ward. I've never heard of her."
Shelby grinned at Rachel's flummoxed expression, "That's probably because she quit at the end of my first year as a pro. She couldn't crack the top two hundred, and figured she didn't have what it took to make it to the upper echelons of the sport. She did send me flowers after I won my first Australian Open though. The letter accompanying it said she'd married a guy that owned an ice-skating rink in Stockholm. That was the last I ever heard from her."
With that, Shelby shrugged her shoulders, grabbed her racket and walked off to her end of the court. Rachel turned around and headed in the opposite direction, and was still shaking her head when Shelby sent a serve her way. 'That will not be my future' Rachel thought, the determination coursing in her veins as she chipped her return back across the net.
The newfound resolve served Rachel well in the week ahead, especially with all the new distractions that came with making her first Slam quarterfinal. The young American was suddenly the focus of the world's media after her deep run at the Slam propelled her into the top hundred in rankings. Many journalists were calling the new World No. 70 the next big thing in American sport, and maybe even world tennis. She had been interviewed by Sport's Illustrated, The Telegraph and Australian Tennis Magazine, and her Papa, who also served as her manager, had already booked in interviews with TENNIS Magazine and The New York Times for the weekend before Wimbledon began. Speaking of her Papa, he'd also been contacted by several sportswear brands that were interested in bringing Rachel on board as a brand ambassador. Leroy had penciled in meetings with representatives from the brands for the two days immediately following his scheduled arrival in London, and if all went well then Rachel would have a deal in place before she played her opening round match at Wimbledon.
Journalists weren't the only ones interested in Rachel, and she found that she had more people showing up to watch her practice sessions with Shelby. Days when she practiced with Brittany drew in even larger crowds, with the English player quickly turning into a local sporting icon thanks to her own on-court achievements. The two friends were also playing doubles together that week in the hopes of bringing their serve and volley games up to scratch, and it was hard to find an empty seat in the house when their matches were played on outer courts.
Despite the accolades and the newfound attention (everyday Rachel woke up to cellphone notifications stating a few hundred people were now following her on Instagram), Rachel was aware of doubters who believed she was a flash in the pan star. The French Open was famous for producing deep runs from clay court specialists you never really heard of again, and the young brunette knew there was a section of tennis fans who assumed she would go down that route.
Which is why it was with a deep satisfaction that Rachel stood beside Kitty Wilde seven days later, proudly holding onto a glass trophy that stated she was a singles finalist at the 2012 Aegon Classic. No, her trophy wasn't as shiny and pretty as the silver Maud Watson trophy that Kitty Wilde held above her head, but Rachel wasn't complaining. Throughout the week the brunette had played and replayed Shelby's pep talk in her head while in the midst of matches, and she had forced herself to focus on the positives. The optimistic thinking had paid off when Rachel used all her self-belief to dig herself out of a hole against Cohen-Chang in the quarters, and she swore she could see Shelby beam with pride when she used a drop shot on match point. The three hundred and five ranking points for being the losing finalist was the icing on the cake, and Rachel still couldn't believe that she would crack the top fifty when the new rankings were released on Monday.
Rachel walked into her post-match media conference, freshly showered but still carrying the trophy she had won that afternoon. The media handler to her left pointed out to the first journalist picked to ask a question.
"Carol Hummel, The Australian. Congratulations on your first Premier Level final."
Rachel smiled, "Thank you."
"Are you disappointed to have lost?", the woman asked.
"Yes" Rachel answered, honestly. "Very. But, this has been a very good week for me. I beat two three top fifty players and one top twenty player, so all in all, I'm happy with my results over the past seven days. And of course, Kitty played a great final, so I don't begrudge her the win."
"What are your takeaways from the week?", Carol pressed.
Rachel frowned, "Do you mean the positives, or the negatives?"
"Both?", the journalist asked.
The brunette paused to think for a moment, "Like I said, the positives are aplenty. I won five good matches, and I think I played pretty well today too. I got myself out of a few tough situations, which is great for my confidence. I wouldn't really say there are any negatives this week, but I think I could work on my footwork a little bit on grass. I mean, this surface is all about speed, so yeah, I think I could improve on that. I'm sure Shelby's already coming up with twisted ways to make me both miserable and quick!", she smiled.
The gathered journalists laughed at Rachel's quip, before the media handler pointed to another reporter.
"Jacob Israel, with the New York Times. First of all, congratulations on cracking the top fifty for the first time in your career."
Rachel grinned, "Thank you. I still can't believe it myself."
"Well, you'll be No. 48 when the rankings are released tomorrow, so again, congrats."
Rachel ducked her head, smiling but not verbally responding this time. "It's been an incredible rise for you, to make it into the top fifty in just over six months on tour. Did you expect to do so well, so fast?", Jacob asked.
The brunette shook her head, her eyes wide, "Honestly, no. I mean, you always hope, you know? Hope that you'll do well, that you'll beat people you've watched on TV, that you'll do well at tournaments you've grown up watching. But I didn't expect to achieve this much success, this fast. And I think a big part of the reason behind my success is Shelby. As I've said before, her own playing experiences are invaluable to me. As are her inputs into my game."
"So she's the biggest influence on your career?", Jacob asked.
"Right now, yes. But if you're looking at my entire tennis career, then no. My parents influenced my love for the game right at the very beginning, and coaches that I worked with both before and then at the USTA had a great influence in my development as a player. Shelby has helped fine tune everything I learned from them, and taught me new tricks, so to speak", Rachel said.
Another journalist piped up, "Bob Murray, The Telegraph. You don't need your wildcard to get into Wimbledon after breaking into the top one hundred after the French Open. Any thoughts on who the USTA should give the wild card to now?"
"That's really up to the USTA to decide" Rachel said, shaking her head. She was smart enough not to get involved in those decisions, especially publicly. "I know that Jane Hayward did well with the one she got for the French Open, so I'm sure that whoever gets into the main draw at Wimbledon will make the USTA just as proud. We have some great talent waiting in the wings", she smiled.
"Ok, we have time for a couple more questions" the media handler said, before pointing to a journalist.
"Radha Vijapure, The Times of India. Do you feel like there's more pressure on you to do well now that you're winning quite consistently?"
"Definitely", Rachel nodded. "Forget other people's expectations, I expect myself to do well. But to be honest, I've expected that of myself right from the start. I don't think you're going to win if you don't push yourself."
"So you're ready for the pressure of defending points in 2013?", the Indian lady asked.
Rachel visibly shuddered, albeit with a smile on her lips, "Hey, can I just get through the rest of 2012 first?" The journalist's laughed again, and Rachel added, "You're going to make me not want to win any more matches this year!"
When the laughter subsided, Rachel added, "I'm kidding. When the time comes to defend points, I hope I'll be up to that challenge as well." Her mind drifted to her conversation with Quinn in the Players' Lounge at Roland Garros, when the blonde had brought up the same subject. Which then reminded her, for the umpteenth time, that she had still to thank the World No. 1 for the flowers and letter she'd received on her birthday.
Rachel was so lost in thought that she almost didn't hear the media handler end the post-match interview. Smiling, the losing finalist rose from her seat, her mind still on Quinn as she exited the room.