Hello everyone! First of all, I am terribly sorry for making you wait this long for an update. That said, the size of this chapter will tell you why it's taken me so long to write it. Half of it was ready last Monday, and I've chipped at the rest as I've gone. Here's a fair warning to everyone - This chapter is very, very heavy on the tennis. So if you don't like reading about the actual sport then I suggest just skimming to the end to see what happens. Although I don't think anyone should be reading this story that way. As I've said again and again, Rachel's career and her progression as a tennis player is a central arc of this story.
Thank you for all the PM's, reviews, feedback and follows/likes that myself and my story have received in the last few weeks. It is always nice to hear another persons take on something that comes from your mind, and any appreciation or critiques are always well received by yours truly.
Life has gotten extremely busy of late, and doesn't look like it's going to slow down for the next couple of weeks. That's why I ask in advance that you forgive me if I make you wait longer than expected for updates. If I could I would spend more time writing this piece, but sometimes real life has to take priority. I just hope the actual updates are worth the wait. And fyi, I will probably go back to my usual sized updates from next time. This one just had a lot happening in it!
Also, the US Open starts next week. I suggest you watch the tennis, especially because Serena Williams might complete a calendar year Slam, which hasn't happened since Steffi Graf pulled off the impossible more than two decades ago.
And now, here's the long awaited update! Enjoy! (I'm updating in haste, so please let me know if any errors have slipped past me!)
"I'm just gonna grab some snacks," Rachel said, taking off in the direction of the kitchen as Shelby busied herself plugging a USB stick into the side of the Berry's gigantic flat screen TV. When she returned, carrying a chips-and-dip platter filled with pita bread, carrot sticks, celery sticks and humus in one hand and a plate full of her Daddy's homemade sweet potato chips in the other, her coach was comfortably settled on the leather couch, the television screen before her paused. The teenager placed the food on the coffee table and sat down beside Shelby, who reached for a carrot stick before checking the open notebook in her lap.
"Ok," the older brunette said, pointing the remote at the television and hitting play, "let's start with the serves." Rachel looked at the screen, which Shelby was now fast-forwarding through, before she hit the pause button again. "Pay attention to where she lands the serves. And keep an eye on the scoreboards too."
Rachel reached beside her and opened her own notebook, placing it in her lap, her pen hovering over a blank page. This wasn't the first time she'd be competing against the top-ranked player, but both Shelby and Rachel had agreed to watch the video's with fresh eyes and only refer to their old notes after they were done penning down today's observations on Quinn's game. She watched on-screen Quinn land serve after serve, the footage a compilation of dozens of matches the World No.1 had played over the last few years. The young American scribbled down her observations, knowing Shelby would want to hear her own thoughts first before offering her own advice. The former player encouraged Rachel to think for herself, constantly reminding her that she had to rely on herself when she was out on court. It was also why Shelby had made it clear from the beginning that she would not make herself available for on-court coaching during WTA tournaments, regardless of the women's tour's stance on the matter.
On-screen Quinn kept serving, and Rachel quietly admired the command she had over the range of serves in her repertoire. The brunette also found herself paying attention to things that had nothing to do with the blonde's game – like how stunning she looked in the sleeveless sunshine-yellow dress she'd worn for the day-sessions at the 2011 Australian Open, how pretty her slightly longer hair at the 2010 French Open had looked in a French braid, and how young and bright eyed she seemed to be on the way to winning her first Major at the 2009 US Open. Rachel also noted the changes in Quinn's physique since she had made her debut on the women's tour in 2008. No one in their right mind would say the blonde was unfit during her debut year, but it was plain to see that the Quinn today was in supremely better shape than when she'd started. Sinewy arm muscles that rippled every time the World No.1's racket connected with the ball had replaced the barely-there puppy fat. The flexors on her right forearm were more defined when she changed her grip before tossing the ball high in the air. And her left deltoid looked like it was carved from stone when she paused for the barest of seconds before launching her body up at the airborne ball.
The pen in Rachel's hand stopped still, hovering in the air above her notebook when the footage changed to serves from Quinn's campaign at Wimbledon 2010. The brunette had forgotten all about the bright pink, grungy hair the tennis player had sported at the hallowed tournament. The hot pink look had been revealed during Quinn's opening match and really stood out amongst the tournament's famed all-white dress code and pristine green courts. As it turned out, Quinn had intended for the look to create headlines all along, stating in multiple interviews that she was hoping her bright pink hair would help raise awareness about breast cancer. Rachel distinctly remembered watching an interview where Quinn explained her choice to raise awareness in June instead of October, which was traditionally the Breast Cancer Awareness month, saying she knew she would grab eyeballs for pushing the boundaries of Wimbledon's dress code and, as a tennis player, she was aware that the global spotlight shone brightest on her during the two weeks at SW19. Rachel smiled, remembering how Quinn had made it a point to thank people for donating to various breast cancer charities during her runner-up's speech at that year's championships. It was the first time Rachel had realized what a class act Quinn really was.
She was broken from her musings when Shelby paused the screen again and turned to her young charge, "Hit me."
Rachel glanced down at her notes, clearing her throat before she spoke, "She likes to go for corners on her first serves when she's starting a new game, or has a comfortable lead in one. But she mixes it up with a fast one down the middle or straight into the body every so often. Um, also, her flat first serves down the T appear to be marginally faster than the ones she hits at more of an angle."
Shelby nodded, "Good. What about her second serves?"
"She seems to prefer the topspin serve in the ad court and the kick serve in the deuce court, but only when she's up. When she's under pressure, her go-to serve is the slice serve. Overall, her second serve seems to be about ten to fifteen miles per hour slower than her first," Rachel replied.
Shelby glanced down at her notes, "Yeah, that seems about right. Could you pick up any tells?"
Rachel considered the question for a moment, "I think she was hitting flat serves to her opponents backhands when she tossed the ball directly over her head."
"That's correct," Shelby agreed. "But keep a close eye on the placement of her toss because from what I could tell she was hitting American twist's when she threw the ball up just that little bit behind her head." Rachel nodded dutifully, and jotted the observation down under 'Return of Serve' in her notebook. "Also, I think her shoulder rotation gives away her kick serves. That one would be harder to pick from a distance and would give you mere seconds to adjust your return, but see if you can spot it."
The two women discussed Quinn's serves for a while longer, also deliberating the pros and cons of various return positions for both first and second serves, before agreeing that they were ready to move on. Rachel munched on some sweet potato chips while Shelby browsed through folders and clicked on the one titled 'QF – Returns'. The coach hit play, and Rachel realized the first video was from last year's US Open. Her eyes tracked Quinn as the blonde wiped some sweat off her brow, passed the towel back to the ball boy, walked to the baseline and crouched down to return serve. 'Wow,' Rachel marveled, pausing her chewing as she took in the sight of Quinn's defined hamstring and calf muscles as she half-squatted near the baselines. She didn't have time to dwell on the sudden dryness of her mouth as Shelby began pointing out the advantages and disadvantages of the World No. 1's current court position.
Rachel listened to Megan Hilty hit the last few notes of God Bless America. The young tennis player had seen the actress on Broadway in 9 to 5 a few years ago and was an admirer of the woman's acting and vocal talents, even if she wasn't too big on the her currently on-air television musical Smash. Rachel and Quinn had been asked to pose for pictures with the performer before she walked out to serenade the crowd with Irving Berlin's patriotic anthem and the tiny brunette hadn't missed Quinn's amused quirked eyebrow when she'd told Megan she was a fan of her stage work. Quinn, for her part, politely shook hands with the tournament's guest performer, her eyes catching Rachel's for a brief instant before all three women turned and smiled for the waiting cameras. That was the most interaction Quinn and Rachel had had that day. Up till now.
The crowd's ovation at the end of the song had died down and a tournament handler silently took off through the doors. Rachel and Quinn followed her onto the Arthur Ashe Stadium, where they were met with renewed applause from the audience. Both players briefly raised a hand each in the air, acknowledging the appreciation. Rachel, having led them out onto court, opted to take the chair furthest from the doors and immediately set about arranging her things. It took her less than a minute to pull out and position her drink bottles and towels and to grab a racket for the warm up, so she was surprised to see Quinn already waiting at the net with the chair umpire when she turned around. The young brunette hurried to them for the coin toss, which Quinn won and elected to serve, posed for a few more pictures, first with Quinn and the chair umpire and then just with Quinn, and walked towards the baseline for the quick pre-match warm-up to another round of applause from the audience.
The two women set up a good rhythm, not moving one another around too much as they eased their bodies into the non-competitive rallies and prepared themselves for the match that lay ahead. The brunette took a moment to glance up at her box when Quinn came forward to hit some volley returns, and saw her father's, Shelby, Jesse, Kurt and the Pierce's in seated in her corner, so to speak. Whitney and Pierce had decided to stay in New York for the duration of Rachel's campaign despite the fact that their own daughter was out of the running at the Major, and it gladdened Rachel to see the three Londoner's chatting with her support team. She stepped forward to practice her own volley's when Quinn moved back to the baseline.
"Four minutes," the chair umpire said a while later, and Quinn moved in to the service line to gently smash back the high balls Rachel tossed up for her. They swapped after a minute or so, giving Rachel the opportunity to get in a few overhead smashes of her own. Finally they moved on to, separately, practicing their serves, and both women headed back to their chairs when the umpire sounded the one-minute notice.
Rachel sat down and took a few quick gulps from each of her two drinks. She peeled a banana, glancing up at Quinn's box as she did, and was surprised to see Finn seated amidst the rest of the World No. 1's large support team. There was no sign of Marley Rose beside him, and Rachel imagined the press would have a field day reporting the latest on the imaginary love triangle in tomorrow's papers. Her eyes briefly landed on Santana Lopez, whose eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark aviator glasses. If Rachel had to guess she'd say the Latina was staring at the tall blonde seated in her own box. The teenager felt a fondness for both women bubble in her chest as she took a bite of her banana, which she set back down on the table beside her half-eaten just as the umpire announced the start of play.
Rachel picked up her racket and walked back to the baseline, listening to the rapturous applause coming from every corner of the stadium. She could no longer deny the magnitude of the occasion, and with that the butterflies were back!
The brunette had battled nerves all day. Who wouldn't, before their first Major final? To make things worse, the Final had been scheduled for 8 pm, leaving Rachel with plenty of time to obsess about what would happen that evening ever since she'd disposed of Fleur Delacour in the semifinals.
Shelby, having been-there-done-that, had advised her young charge not to get ahead of herself and just to try and approach the final as she would any other match. 'Ha! Easier said than done!,' were the first words to cross Rachel's mind on receiving the advice, but to her credit she had kept her mouth shut and obediently attempted to keep her focus on the now. So she had spent the morning playing some video games with Brittany before leaving for the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Flushing Meadows in the early afternoon, where she had eaten a big lunch comprising a large serve of pasta, dried fruit and yoghurt in the Player's Cafeteria and drunk a lot of water. After lunch she had sat down with Shelby in the now almost disconcertingly quiet Player's Lounge to go over match strategy one last time, before hitting the practice court for a pre-match hit with Brittany and Shelby. That was followed by a quick snack and drink before Rachel headed to the locker-room, where she was rather surprised not to come face-to-face with Quinn. Once dressed for the match she went through her pre-match stretches, and then waited a short while for someone from the tournament to summon her for the match. Rachel would be lying if she said she had been one hundred percent successful in keeping the looming task ahead of her from her mind, but she did try her hardest to think about something, anything, else when the words US, Open and Final popped up in her head, exclusively in that order.
Now even concentrating on the now meant thinking about her first Grand Slam final, leaving her pulse was racing, her heart beating wildly in her chest and hands feeling clammy as she crouched low to return serve. She looked across the net at Quinn who appeared to be a study in calmness as she stared down at three balls, and wondered how the blonde looked so composed when she herself felt like she was about to have a panic attack. Quinn raised a ball in the air towards Rachel, who nodded her understanding that they were playing with new balls even wondered how the hell she could stop her hands from shaking with nerves. The young American settled for putting her left hand around the grip of the racket so that she was clutching it with both hands in an attempt to keep them steady. She was honestly beginning to wonder if she was having a legitimate heart attack when Quinn tossed the ball in the air, and then she frantically searching her mind for what it meant when the blonde tossed the ball right over her head. The ball came flat and fast to Rachel's backhand before her memory kicked in, and the brunette instinctively stuck her racket out at the ball, somehow managing to get it back into play. She might as well have let Quinn just have an ace, since her return was so weak that the blonde easily hit it cross court for a winner. Rachel could barely hear the crowd's applause over the sound of her own blood pumping in her ears. 'Is it normal to be able to hear your own heartbeat?,she wondered.
The young American walked to the ad court, concentrating on taking slow, deep breaths. Rachel noted how dry her throat was despite the fact that she'd had a drink less than sixty seconds ago, and desperately tried to generate some saliva by moving her tongue around in her mouth. Before she knew it another serve was coming her way, and this time she hadn't even been able to focus on the ball toss. She watched, almost like a hapless spectator, as an ace zoomed past her forehand side.
Rachel crossed sides again and was nearly shocked to see determined hazel eyes studying her when she looked across the net at her opponent. Quinn looked back down, adjusted the visor cap on her head and bounced the ball a few times. Everything suddenly seemed to be happening in slow motion in Rachel's eyes, and she stared at the ball leaving the blonde's hand before being recaptured in her grip. Everything else in Rachel's world faded into the background and she stared, almost unabashedly, as Quinn tossed the ball high and held her position for the barest of moments before throwing her racket up to meet the ball. Something about the blonde's shoulder rotation made Rachel snap back to the present, and without giving it any conscious thought it she positioned herself to return a kick serve that she somehow knew to expect. That didn't stop her from being as surprised as anyone else at the ferocity of the forehand return winner that gave her her first point of the match.
"30-15," the chair umpire announced.
Rachel couldn't help but glance at her opponent to see if that stunner of a shot had drawn any sort of reaction from the World No. 1 but Quinn was already on her way back to the baseline, beckoning for her towel. The brunette wiped her own forehead with the wristband on her left arm before squatting down again, willing her heart to stop beating so erratically. Now she was seriously considering whether she should call the tournament doctor during the change of ends to check her blood pressure, and promised herself that she'd revisit idea after the first three games. If she managed to survive that long.
Quinn turned around, her face a mask devoid of expression. Seconds later, she sent a perfectly placed flat serve to a corner of the service box, and an unfocused Rachel silently berated herself for once again not paying enough attention to the blonde's service routine as she flung her arm at the ball. Her backhand landed meekly at Quinn's feet right in the center of the court, leaving three quarters of the court open for Quinn to do with it what she may. Without thinking Rachel quickly moved to her right, logic dictating that the World No. 1 would try and hit a winner into the open court. Only Quinn had other plans, and calmly hit a backhand winner right behind Rachel's back.
Rachel shook her head as she walked back to the baseline. "Focus, Rachel," she muttered to herself, not caring if the on-court microphones picked up the one-sided conversation. She watched Quinn lift the hand gripping a tennis ball lift to tuck a loose strand of hair behind one ear with a finger, before she bounced the ball and sent Rachel a hard, fast serve down the tee. The teenager netted the return, giving Quinn the first game of the match.
The brunette took off towards the net while the umpire was still announcing the score, intent on taking a sip of water before she crossed sides. She didn't care if it looked odd that she was hydrating herself after only five points had been played. Or that Quinn had crossed paths with her and marched on to the other side without stopping at her own chair. Clearly Quinn wasn't dealing with nerves that left her feeling as dry-throated as a traveler lost in the Sahara.
Rachel glanced up at her box as she marched towards the baseline, and saw every single person in there looking at her with smiles of encouragement. She hoped they didn't notice her shaky hands when she nodded at the ball kid in front of her.
Rachel turned to face the net, and now it was Quinn that had her gaze locked on Rachel. The teenager could sense the hazel eyes watching her every move as she prepared to serve, almost like a lioness sizing up its prey. Rachel glanced up to see where Quinn had positioned herself, and was unsurprised to see her standing a good couple of steps behind the baseline. Rachel and Shelby had noted in their study of Quinn Fabray's playing style the previous evening that the World No. 1 liked to start matches far enough behind the baseline to get a good read on the opponents serve while she evaluated whether it was a good idea to step in a little bit. As the match progressed Quinn would either stand closer to the baseline, or stay where she was and simply quickstep her way to the serves.
Rachel let out a quiet sigh of relief upon the realization that some of her game plans and observations were beginning to come back to her, before tossing the ball up and sending her first serve right into the net. Without missing a beat she pulled the second ball out of her compression shorts and sent a kick serve to the blonde who was standing on the baseline to return Rachel's second serve. Quinn smashed a forehand to Rachel's backhand, and moved in to the net to hit a sharply angled volley return off the ball the brunette sent back.
Rachel was down 0-15, and the nerves were making themselves known again. "Deep breaths, stay calm" she mumbled, staring down at the three balls she had to pick from. Sending one back, she tucked the second away and got her service routine out of the way before sending a topspin serve to Quinn's backhand.
"Fault!," a linesman called, indicating that the ball had gone long.
Rachel bounced the second ball, repeating the mantra 'You need to land your first serves!' in her head. Dwelling on the last serve probably didn't help because the brunette followed it up with another fault, giving Quinn a free point. She could practically hear commentators around the world sighing at her game, or the lack thereof, some probably already predicting a one-sided win for the World No. 1. Rachel felt a wave of nausea wash over her at the thought that they would be proven right if she didn't get a grip on her game.
The teenager gave a cursory glance at Quinn's court position, then tossed the ball up and sent another topspin serve the blonde's way. This one was perfectly placed and sent the top-ranked player out wide, leaving Rachel with a completely open court to hit into. Running around the ball, she whipped a forehand to her right, and Quinn best all-out sprint wasn't enough to get to it. The audience roared their support for her then, making Rachel wonder about what it was that made crowds always support the underdog. 'Or they want their money's worth,' she thought sardonically.
Rachel decided to go for broke with her next serve, and put all her strength into a flat serve down the T. Quinn swung at the ball and missed, leaving Rachel feeling slightly more confident of her own abilities. The crowd's cheers indicated that they, like Rachel, were convinced the brunette had won the point. That is, until Rachel heard a husky voice say "Challenge," and looked up to see the blonde staring at the umpire with the index finger of her left hand pointed skywards.
"Fabray is challenging the point. The ball was called in," the umpire stated moments before the screens around the stadium lit up with Hawk-Eye's rendering of the point that had just been played. The audience clapped along as the ball's trajectory appeared on screen and groaned as one when the "replay" showed that Rachel's serve had landed outside the service box by two millimetres.
Rachel shot an incredulous look towards her box as the umpire corrected herself, "The call is corrected. Second serve."
The brunette shook her head, cursing her luck. She glanced up at Quinn, who still looked stoic despite her mini victory from seconds ago. Rachel was down 15-30 in her opening service game of the match, and knew couldn't afford to not get her second serve into play. So she sent down a harmless slice-serve that even a twelve-year-old would punish to the World No. 1, and watched a forehand winner zip past her mere seconds later.
'This is not going well,' Rachel thought, her anger at her own poor play chasing away the nerves, though she had yet to notice this. Her eyes narrowed as she stared across the net at Quinn, whose alert hazel eyes were almost at odds with the rest of her impassive countenance. Bouncing the ball, once, twice, thrice, she sent an American twist towards Quinn, watching with satisfaction as the blonde completely misread the serve and then mishit it as it spun inwards towards her body. Quinn's return landed well wide of the court, and Rachel had saved a breakpoint.
'One down, one to go,' Rachel thought. 'All I need to do is win this point, then win two more, and we'll be level. And then I can focus on trying to break her. Yeah, good plan,' she told herself, bobbing her head along at the silent pep talk she was giving herself. Only, plans have a way of not working out. Rachel landed her first serve long, and had to resist the urge to smash her racket just to let out some of her frustration. She knew she'd never hear the end of it from her father's or Shelby if she "disrespected the tools of her trade", and anyway, that wasn't the kind of role model Rachel wanted to be to the millions of kids watching the match across the globe. That thought set her on edge again. Millions of people around the world were watching her fail to show up in this all-important match. The teenager could practically hear Santana tsk-ing in her head, the Spaniard telling her how she would have been a more worthy opponent in this final. Rachel's manic mind almost didn't register the fact that Quinn won the next point, giving the blonde an early break of serve in the opening set.
Mere minutes later Rachel stared dolefully at the scoreboard, which showed that Quinn was ahead three games to none. She flicked her gaze to the on-court clock, thinking that it felt like the match had been going on way longer than the seven minutes the clock displayed. She took big swigs from her two drink bottles, glancing at Quinn out of her peripheral vision. The World No. 1 was staring ahead into nothingness, and Rachel reckoned she looked like she was in the zone. 'Unlike her opponent,' she thought.
The brunette knew she needed to get her head in the game, and bent down to pull her notebook out of her bag. Opening the book to the page dedicated to this match she stared quizzically at some words that she didn't remember being at the bottom of the page the last time she'd looked, and it didn't take her long to recognize Shelby's handwriting. 'Don't let the occasion overwhelm you. Savour it, and play it the way you always imagined you would. Don't think too far ahead. Play the match one point at a time, because stringing points together is what wins matches. Trust your game. Trust yourself. Have fun. You can do this,' the coach had written in big, bold letters.
Rachel was overcome by a wave of emotion, and found herself blinking back tears as she closed the book and looked up at her box, where Shelby was staring right back at her. The coach lifted her hand and pumped her right fist at her charge, and Rachel was filled with a new sense of determination. She'd be damned if she was going to go out without putting up a fight!
She looked back down at her book, and quickly ran her eyes over everything she and Shelby had noted in regards to today's match. Her mind began to clear as she stared at the words with renewed purpose and things that had slipped her anxious mind now came flooding back. Rachel kept reading and reminding herself of the same strategies until the chair umpire called time, at which point she closed the book and left it on the table beside her chair before walking to her side of the court.
Rachel gave her opponent a cursory glance before beginning the process of bouncing the ball. In those two seconds her mind zipped over potential serve options based on Quinn's court position, and the serve that came off her racket was a slower slice that forced the blonde to rush a good few steps forward and to the right to get to the ball. Quinn's return lacked any zing, and Rachel had no problem hitting a crosscourt backhand that the World No. 1 had to run the length of the baseline to recover. This time her return went to Rachel's forehand that the brunette hit crosscourt again, forcing Quinn to turn and run the length of the baseline again. The older American could do no more than get the outside of the top frame of her racket to the ball, which only served to alter the balls trajectory as it continued onwards. The crowd roared, clearly having enjoyed watching Rachel run Quinn ragged across the court.
"15-0," announced the umpire.
'There you go,' Rachel silently told herself, drawing confidence from the point.
She wasn't surprised to see Quinn standing closer to the baseline when she looked up this time, even if the top-ranked player wasn't actually standing on it. Rachel let her eyes flit over the spot where she wanted the ball to land and drawing all her might she sent a flat, hard serve down the T. Quinn's new court position gave her less time to react to the ball's pace, and the ball whooshed past her outstretched racket. The blonde stood upright and gave the centerline a long, hard look before walking to the deuce court to return the next serve. Rachel had watched her opponent contemplate whether to challenge the call and let out an almost imperceptible sigh when she didn't. The teenager had her first ace in the bag.
"30-0" came the call amidst more cheering and whooping.
Rachel bounced in place to keep her legs warm and watched as Quinn shuffled around on the baseline before deciding where to stand. The lower-ranked player knew she was now making the World No. 1 actually think about her court position, and the thought filled her with even more confidence. Quinn finally settled on standing closer to the corner of the box, just a couple of feet from where the baseline met the singles line. Rachel realized she was silently issuing her a challenge to serve to almost the same spot by leaving such a huge gap on her backhand side. The brunette wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth but unfortunately for her, this serve wasn't as precise and was called a fault.
Rachel growled under her breath, annoyed at herself for allowing Quinn to dictate the run of play just then. 'Stick to your plan. Your plan,' she could hear Shelby say in her head, and the brunette was determined to do just that from now. She sent a kick serve over the net, and was beaten by a perfectly timed forehead down the line that left her stranded on the other end of the court.
"30-15."
Rachel beckoned for her towel, just to give herself a moment to collect herself. The breather proved to be a good decision, because moments later she calmly hit a topspin serve that went right into Quinn's body, forcing a mishit return that went straight into the net.
The announcement was made, "40-15".
For the next point, Rachel sent a fast, flat serve into Quinn's body again, cutting off the blonde's angle on the ball. This time the brunette followed her serve in, so she was at the net to volley the return that predictably came straight at her in the middle of the court. Quinn managed to use what had to be lightening reflexes to keep the point in play, but Rachel was up to the task. Lunging at the ball, she hit a sharp-angled backhand that left Quinn stranded in no man's land as it raced across the singles line.
The crowd were on their feet, giving the shot the ovation it deserved. "Game, Berry. Fabray leads three games to one," the umpire announced, and Rachel looked at her box, nodding her head for the whole world to see. She was on the board.
From there on both Rachel and Quinn played tennis that had the crowd oohing, commentators jumping out of their seats with their microphones held to their lips and television viewers lamenting commercial breaks that prevented them from watching how the women recovered during the changes of ends. The rallies grew longer as Quinn and Rachel acquainted themselves with the nuances of each other's hard-court games. They baited one another, outsmarted one another, beat one another, sometimes at their own games. Every-so-often one would hit a winner so impossible that even the other applauded. Rachel was no longer thinking about how this was her first Grand Slam final. She was too busy enjoying the match, rising to the challenge.
Quinn took the first set after Rachel was unable to break back. The blonde was serving like a dream, and the closest Rachel had gotten to pressuring her serve was to get to 30-30 in the seventh game of the match before Quinn wrapped up the set 6-3. The teenager opened serve in the second set, and found herself breathing a little easier with the pressure of playing catch up no longer on her shoulders. That said, having to make sure she stayed in the lead brought it's own stress. Rachel had proven to be up to the task so far, and was now level at 30-all with the set balanced at 3-2 in the second set.
The World No. 1 was wiping her forearms, and a crouching Rachel watched as the sheen of moisture on her limbs disappeared under the moving towel. Rachel twirled the racket in her hands, her eyes pausing on Quinn's flushed cheeks for a moment before zeroing in on the ball that the blonde began bouncing. Rachel narrowed her eyes, recognizing a sign she hadn't noticed when watching footage of Quinn but had picked up in the course of this match – the blonde gripped the ball differently when tossing it up to hit a topspin serve. The brunette had even wondered if Quinn spun it slightly in the air instead of throwing it up straight, but it was too hard to pick that fine detail from across the net. She had already made a mental note to confirm her doubts after the match.
Rachel was ready when the ball spun away from her, and she hit a perfectly timed forehand return in the same line the ball came from. Her return was hard and heavy, and was hit to force Quinn to struggle to control the ball when it met her own racket. Sure enough, the brunette's service return produced a forced error from the top-ranked American.
"30-40," said the chair umpire.
Rachel could feel a shift of energy in the air. People were leaning forwards in their seats, a hush falling over the Arthur Ashe Stadium as Quinn began her pre-serve ritual. The blonde sent a fast, angled serve that was clearly intended to hit the corner of the box but went miles wide and was called out. Rachel could hear a few quiet murmurs coming from the stands as the blonde readied her second serve. Again, Rachel's research had prepared her for the slice serve Quinn tended to go for when her serve was under pressure, and she sent back a high arcing topspin return that the blonde was obviously not expecting. The blonde still sent a decent ball back but Rachel was ready for it and hit a backhand deep into the ad court, which left Quinn way behind the baseline after she sent back her own return. Rachel patiently hit a drop shot, and watched with satisfaction as the ball bounced a second time before Quinn caught up to it.
"C'mon!" Rachel yelled, turning to her box with her fist pumped. Her support team responded by rising to their feet, almost as one. Even Jesse was no longer sporting his parent smirk and was screaming with wild abandon.
You could barely hear the umpire state, ""Game, Berry. Berry leads four games to two," over the thunderous applause that shook the entire stadium. Rachel had the break in the second, and now she needed to consolidate.
The brunette played with the strings of her racket as she stared at the instrument. 'Ok, all you need is four good serves. And you need to get through them one at a time,' she told herself, before nodding at the ball kid.
Rachel's first serve was an ace out wide, and it gave the brunette the assurance she needed at the start of this all-important game. She blew her cheeks out, exhaling hard before beginning her pre-serve ritual for the second point. She sent this one to Quinn's backhand, and was surprised by the ferocity of the return that came back her way. The best Rachel could do was send a meek return to the center of the court, and Quinn rightfully punished the ball by ripping a forehand winner past the teenager. If points could speak then the last one would tell Rachel in no uncertain terms that Quinn wasn't about to roll over and submit.
"15-all," came the call.
The brunette swiped away a bead of sweat that was rolling down her cheek. Quinn was standing near the corner of the court, once again tempting the teenager with the expanse of free space to hit into. Rachel wasn't going to take the bait this time, and sent a deep, fast serve right at the blonde. To Quinn's credit the blonde had also obviously planned for this eventuality, so instead of sending a soft return right to where Rachel was expecting it she reared her racket back and sent a ferocious return that dipped and landed almost on Rachel's toes as she moved forward. The tennis God's must have been smiling on Rachel though, because her spontaneous half volley caught the tape, wobbled for a millisecond and finally fell over meekly on Quinn's side of the court.
Rachel raised her hand apologetically, almost empathising with the look of sheer frustration on the blonde's face. The brunette knew that was an ugly way to win a point, but if that's what it took to win then she'd take it.
'Two more points,' she reminded herself.
A minute later that became 'One more point' after Quinn mishit an easy overhead smash right into the net. The blonde let out a frustrated shriek that only seemed to make the audience clap even louder for Rachel. "40-15," the umpire stated.
The teenager bounced the ball, listening to the crowd fall silent around her. She might not have been serving for the set just yet, but Rachel knew the importance of winning this game. She willed the new bout of nerves fluttering around her belly to settle and took deep, calming breaths before hitting a flat serve to Quinn's forehand. The blonde hit her return right back to Rachel and this time decided to serve and volley herself, following her return to the net. Rachel tried to pass her, once, twice, thrice, but the blonde's soft hands were always there to send a deft volley right back. The fourth time Rachel changed the trajectory of her own racket at the last minute and sent a lob high over Quinn's head. Now it was her turn to move forward to the net as the World No. 1 turned and chased down the ball that landed just inside the baseline, and for a split-second Rachel marveled at the no-look tweener Quinn sent back. That is, before she hit a volley winner of her own.
Rachel turned and walked to her chair, soaking in the audience's appreciation of the point. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins as the umpire announced her lead and covered her bouncing legs with a towel before finishing the last of her second banana of the match. She glanced at the clock, which showed that she and Quinn had been battling it out for an hour and ten minutes now. Rachel wondered at how fresh she still felt and suspected her current levels of adrenaline had much to do with the lack of fatigue.
The New Yorker headed into the next game intending to break Quinn's serve and thereby both save herself the stress of having to serve the set out and ensure that she got to serve first in the deciding set. Unsurprisingly Quinn had other plans and had her best service game yet, hitting two aces and one serve that drew a forced error from Rachel before ending the game by winning a twenty point rally that saw the brunette cover almost every inch of the playing area. The message was clear – Rachel would have to win this set.
And so that's what Rachel did. Leading 40-30 at 5-3, she ran left to right to chase down a crosscourt shot from Quinn, getting to the ball on the run and using its pace to hit a forehand crosscourt winner of her own. Seeing that the blonde was nowhere near the ball, Rachel turned to face her box, yelling out another "C'mon!" even before the ball had hit the back wall on Quinn's side of the court.
The two opponents both got to the net at the same time, and Rachel paused to let Quinn pass before taking her own seat. She had gotten a whiff of the blonde's scent as she passed, and the smell of strawberries mixed with something that had to be uniquely Quinn lingered in her nostrils as she drank from her bottle. All of a sudden she felt a little bit lightheaded and wondered if it was the stress leaving her body now that she had leveled the match at one set a piece.
'Stay focused,' she reminded herself, glancing around the quickly emptying stadium at people leaving to relieve themselves or find food at the end of the tense second set. Thinking it would be a good idea to splash some water on her own face to get rid of the sudden giddiness, Rachel requested a toilet break and briefly left the court when the chair umpire okayed her request. The brunette grabbed a dress from her kitbag on her way out and used the time away from court to change out of her sweaty blue Adidas number into another identical but mercifully dry dress. When Rachel returned to the court minutes later a good portion of the crowd had returned to their seats and Quinn was already on her side of the court, moving around in an obvious effort to stay warm. The brunette dropped her dress on the table, picked up her racket and prepared to begin the dance that would be set number three.
Both women began the final set tentatively, which commentators around the world agreed was probably an aftereffect of the slightly longer than usual break they'd just had. The opening two service games were tough and both went to deuce before the servers held, albeit without actually facing any break points. The level went back to a category that could only be called 'Ridiculously High' from the third game, with Quinn and Rachel probing one another's games, attempting to exploit perceived weaknesses and craft points to suit their own strengths. They had just passed the two-hour mark when Rachel won another game that went to deuce to make it six games all.
'This is it,' the brunette thought, knowing the tiebreaker would decide their fate once and for all. She swallowed down the sudden wave of nausea that hit her, the feeling of having a panic attack from the start of the match returning, this time with an army of butterflies in tow. Realizing that her hands were beginning to tremble again, Rachel closed her eyes and tried to visualize her book of notes. Her research with Shelby had brought Quinn's high winning percentage in final set tiebreakers to their notice and if she recalled correctly Quinn had the second best record of any current women's player, trailing only Santana in that category. Which made the task that lay ahead of her that much more daunting.
'Put pressure on your opponent, make your first serves and focus on winning each point one at a time,' Rachel repeated in her head, over and over again. It was the rule by which she played tiebreakers, which in her opinion were the most mental game of tennis. You weren't winning and you weren't losing, and one bad shot or stroke of genius was all it took to change that precarious balance.
Feeling better and more focused, Rachel opened her eyes and readied for the first serve from Quinn. The blonde sent down the serve that had given Rachel the most trouble that day – the hard, flat serve into the body. Once again, Rachel had a hard time getting her body out of the way and into position in time, and Quinn easily put away her meek return to take the first point.
Now it was Rachel's turn. The brunette selected a ball and decided to take a page out of her opponent's book by opening with a serve that Quinn had struggled with that day – the American twist. Again, the server made the right call because Quinn's weak return allowed Rachel to dictate the rally, which she won after moving Quinn around the court till she ultimately hit an unforced error.
Rachel had a problem with her ball toss on her next serve, and really should have just caught the ball, apologized and restarted the serve. Instead, she decided to make a minor adjustment to her serve and ended up hitting the ball right into the net for a fault. Frustrated at her impatience and bad decision-making, she silently berated herself while lining up for her second serve. Looking up, she saw that Quinn was standing inside the baseline and would more than likely pounce on a weak second serve. 'No guts, no glory Rach,' she heard Brittany's English accent say in her head and the brunette knew what she had to do. Tossing the ball up, she sent a hard, flat serve down the T, hitting it just as she would a first serve. The serve caught Quinn off guard and had her beat, giving Rachel a rare second serve ace.
"2-1, Berry," the umpire announced. Rachel let out a quick sigh of relief, knowing she had avoided a close call there.
Quinn put two excellent serves into play to win her next two service points, and Rachel emulated her by doing the same, both before and after they changed ends at 3-all. She was now leading 4-3, and stood twirling her racket in her hands as she waited for Quinn to select a ball to serve with. Rachel ran her gaze over the World No. 1's lithe form, letting her eyes rest on the strong muscles of her upper back that were on display because of the razor-back cut of her Nike dress. She blinked when Quinn turned around to face her, and for a moment their gazes met across the net before the blonde looked down and began bouncing the ball.
Rachel saw the shoulder rotation and was prepared for the kick serve when it came. Launching herself at the ball she hit a hard forehand, the shot so powerful that both of Rachel's feet were off the ground at the point of contact with the orb. Quinn let out a muted grunt when the ball hit her own racket but managed to control it and keep the ball in play. The two women kept hitting the ball back-and-forth, using the pace the other was generating to keep it moving at a lightening speed. Quinn retrieved a ball she had no business getting to, Rachel ran down a drop shot from behind the baseline, the crowd was audibly gasping and still the point kept going. Until Quinn hit a forehand deep to Rachel's backhand side, and the brunette changed the position of her wrist at the last minute to change the shot from a backhand down the line to a crosscourt backhand, fooling the blonde with the cleverly disguised shot. The wrong-footed blonde could do no more than turn her head to follow the ball with her eyes as it passed behind her back.
Rachel's support team were up on their feet again, cheering as if possessed. Hiram was practically red in the face, and Shelby had both fists clenched and raised at her chest level. The brunette could hear their cries of support as the umpire announced the score, the importance of the mini-break not lost on anyone. Or the fact that Rachel would soon have the opportunity to serve for the championship.
Crouching down again, she took in Quinn's expression and could see a hint of annoyance on the blonde's features, most likely directed at her own play. Rachel had never seen her fellow American look truly annoyed in person and distractedly thought about how the frown creasing her eyebrows was actually cute and did nothing to take away from Quinn's stunning looks. Then the World No. 1 looked up at Rachel with blazing determination in her hazel eyes, and the brunette was quickly reminded of why they were on opposite sides of the net.
The serve Quinn sent down seconds later went out wide and left Rachel completely out of position after she returned it. The blonde had hit it to perfection, and easily sent a winner to the opposite corner from where Rachel was left stranded.
"5-4, Berry," the umpire said, as if anyone in the stadium needed to be reminded what the score was.
Rachel's heart was beating erratically as she nodded to the ball kid. The match was now on her racket and for the first time in this match she had the opportunity to really control her fate. She gulped, knowing that the eyes of everyone in the stadium were on her. Quinn was probably staring from across the net too, and Rachel did her best to school her features to hide her nerves from her opponent before turning around to get this over and done with.
The umpire asked the boisterous crowd to be silent and the cheers died down till the stadium was almost eerily silent. Someone in the audience coughed as Rachel bounced the ball, and the sound reverberated around the stadium. The brunette took one last glance at Quinn's position before tossing the ball up and sending down a kick serve to her forehand. The top-ranked player stepped towards the ball and ripped a return to Rachel's backhand before following the ball in, clearly intending to volley. The teenager read her intent and whacked a backhand down the line, forcing Quinn to lunge at the ball. The blonde was literally airborne as she desperately reached for the ball with her racket, but it was all in vain. The ball passed by harmlessly, landing well inside the baseline. Rachel had championship point.
For years after people would ask Rachel about the next point and the look on her face told them she wasn't lying when she said it was really all a blur. She will tell them that she remembers checking to see if Quinn was alright as she stood up and dusted herself off, and that she walked to the baseline to serve for the match. She vividly recalls hearing her fathers cheer for her, but for the life of her can't recall her thought process before she decided to send down a slice serve, which even she knows is her weakest serve, or much of the actual rally that followed.
What she does remember is standing close to the net near the middle of the court and watching the airborne ball come closer and closer to her, arcing through the air before she lifted her racket high in the air and smashed it with all her might. She remembers the cracking sound the ball made as it connected with the racket, and how it raced to a corner of the court, far away from Quinn's reach. And she'll tell you that that was the first time she knew, really knew, that the reason sportsmen fall to their knees after big wins is because it's that precise moment when the magnitude of what you've done really hits you, and for a split second you're too overwhelmed to even support your own weight.
Rachel was on her knees, crying into her palms when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she gazed at the face of her vanquished opponent through blurred vision. Quinn's eyes were tinged with a hint of dejection but that didn't stop her from gracing the brunette with a gentle smile and offering the teenager her hand. "C'mon Champ, the world awaits," she smiled, pulling Rachel up when the younger girl grasped her hand.
"Congratulations Rachel," Quinn added when the two women were standing face-to-face before kissing her on the cheek once, "You played really well."
Rachel nodded dumbly, unable to form words, and again inhaling the blonde's scent without actually realising it. Quinn gave her a fond look before she patted the new champion on the back ad walked away to her chair, leaving Rachel to savour the applause and adulation coming from all around her. The brunette's gaze landed on her box and she automatically scampered off in their direction, raising her hands in the air as she looked up at them, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jesse was whooping, Brittany was whistling, her fathers were sobbing and even Shelby was swiping at the corners of her eyes with her fingers. The smiles on the faces of her team were bright enough to light up Times Square, and Rachel was sure her own grin was on par.
A few moments later the brunette walked back to her chair, sharing a quiet smile with Quinn as she passed the blonde. Rachel had just slipped into her jacket when the tournament director came over to congratulate her and quickly brief her on the post-match presentation. The brunette nodded, still not trusting her voice. A few minutes later she walked alongside Quinn as the two women were told where to stand for the ceremony, and before she knew it, Quinn was being called to receive her runner-up's trophy and prize money.
The blonde raised the plate above her head, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes in place as did so, before she walked over to the microphone, "First of all, congratulations to Rachel," the blonde began, turning to face her conqueror and pausing as a fresh round of applause broke out for that evening's victor. "You played a great match and a great tournament overall, and deserve to be the last man, well, woman, standing," she said genuinely, drawing quiet laughs from the crowd. "I'm sure this is just the first of many more Major wins for you," she added, smiling at Rachel before turning away. "Thank you to my support team. You guys keep me motivated and fit enough to compete, and I wouldn't be half the player I am without you." There was more applause, then Quinn said, "Thank you to the sponsors who back this great tournament, and all the officials, staff and ball kids that make the US Open such a smooth ride. And finally, to the fans –". She had to pause for the rapturous applause that broke out here, "we wouldn't have a tournament if you didn't come out to support us and watch us play, so thank you for backing this great sport of ours. And see you next year." Quinn waved at the crowd and stepped away from the microphone to the sound of cheers.
And then it was Rachel's turn to be summoned. The teenager walked up to the dais, the blood pumping in her ears almost muting the cheers coming from the crowd as she was handed the trophy that she stared at with a dazed look for a second before holding it aloft her head. 'It's lighten than I thought it would be,' she thought randomly, doing a small circle before accepting the envelope containing her cheque, thanking everyone on the stage with a hoarse voice and moving to the microphone.
"Tha-" she croaked, before stopping to clear her throat. "Let's try that again. I think my voice is in as much shock as the rest of me" she smiled, prompting the audience to laugh with her. "As I was saying, thank you. Like Quinn said, it's the fans that make being a professional tennis player such a gratifying job, so thank you for your support. And I can't even express what it means to have won my first Major right here in my hometown of New York City. This really is a dream come true." Rachel had to stop for the thunderous applause that followed her words, and she looked at Quinn when it fell silent again, "Quinn, you are the benchmark when it comes to women's tennis. Congratulations on another great tournament. I look forward to more battles against you in the future, and I'm already mentally prepared to lose a fair few of them." She smiled when Quinn ducked her head, acknowledging Rachel's words, then continued, "To everyone that sponsors or works at the US Open. I have been coming here ever since I was little to watch matches with my family, and I now know firsthand just how hard everyone works behind the scenes. Thank you for your efforts." There was a smattering of applause, and then Rachel turned to face her box. "And to my team," she began, her voice cracking with emotion, "thank you. Daddy and Papa, thank you for letting me play this sport that I love so much. Shelby, and anyone else that has ever coached me, thank you for nurturing my game and bettering it. I am so grateful to each and everyone of you that's sitting in my box, and can't express in words just how much you all mean to me." Rachel was crying again now, and wiped her eyes as she stepped away from the mic.
A media handler approached the new champion, and guided her to stand beside Quinn for a few shots. The two women posed for the shutterbugs before Quinn squeezed the brunette's shoulder and slipped away, and Rachel spent the next half an hour walking around the court, making sure that anyone that wanted a picture of her with her trophy got one.
It was past midnight by the time Rachel was on the way to her post-match press conference, showered but still clutching on to her shiny new trophy. She was passing Media Room No. 7, when she caught sight of Quinn's face on the screen that displayed what was going on inside the room. The brunette paused for a moment, her curiosity getting the better of her.
A disembodied voice was in the middle of asking a question, and Quinn had a bemused look on her face as she waited for the woman to finish, "…since the Australian Open. Would you say your game is in decline?"
Quinn sighed, and her voice took on a hard edge, "I actually thought I played well tonight. Unfortunately for me, Rachel just played better. I also made the finals of the French Open, and lost to Santana, who might just be the best clay court player of our generation. So no, I don't actually think my career is in decline. I just think the competition is more fierce. Which I believe is brilliant for women's tennis. Don't you?"
"Talk about grace under fire" Shelby commented from her place beside Rachel.
Rachel nodded, taking one last look at the screen before continuing on to her own press conference.
