Page 12 of Breakpoint

“Forehand volley, Daniela,” Jaz called, her voice crisp and cool. There was no ‘please,’ no hint of encouragement. Just the statement, clipped and efficient, the way she did everything. The sounds of their shoes squeaking on the court were only outdone by Jaz’s constant chirping.

Daniela gritted her teeth and slammed the ball back. It was low, hard, a shot meant to make Jaz stretch, but she got it with ease.

Jaz made Daniela’s team change plans when she learned Daniela was going to stay in Europe until Wimbledon.

Most players stayed overseas since there were only three weeks between the French Open in Paris and Wimbledon in London.

However right after Wimbledon would be the Olympics and they needed to get their shit together quickly.

So when Jaz lost in the next round at the French, she arranged for Dani’s team to travel with her on her private plane back to the States.

They could recover and get treatment while in the air and train in private at her Florida compound.

Jaz rarely stayed in Europe between the two tournaments anymore, mainly because she hated staying in rental houses for close to two months.

She missed the privacy of her home and the ability to keep her routine.

Plus, she could afford to travel back and forth quickly by flying private.

“Anticipate, don’t react,” she barked when Daniela was a second late to a drop shot.

Jaz’s instructions were clipped, bordering on rude but Daniela needed this kick in the ass.

Obviously, Tom, as gruff as he was, wasn’t getting through to her.

“And your footwork is sloppy,” she remarked, her gaze meeting Daniela’s.

“You’re transferring your weight too late. ”

Jaz could see Daniela bristle at her tone. “I know,” Daniela snapped, “I’m working on it.” The sun beat down on the hardcourt, the heat reflecting up into their faces.

Daniela’s usual fluid, instinctive play was replaced by a rigid, forced formality, each shot punctuated by a silent, simmering resentment. Why had Jaz agreed to this, actually suggested this torture, this...cooperation between them?

They had been training together for over a week now, and the tension between them had only grown.

Their practice sessions were a carefully choreographed dance of forced politeness and barely suppressed resentment.

Off the court, they barely spoke, even though Daniela was staying in her home, they avoided each other as much as possible.

“Let's all take a break and grab some water,” Mike suggested, attempting to break the tension. “Jaz, I wanna run something by you real quick.”

“Thank God,” Daniela lamented as she walked over to the bench and threw her racket down on the ground. Jaz could see the anger coming off Daniela in waves as she sipped on a protein drink.

Jaz turned to Mike. “Should we do more forehands? I think it's where it let both of us down.”

Mike turned his back, shielding his words from Daniela, and whispered, “I think you should lay off a bit on Dani. Bring down the temperature.”

Jaz looked at him in shock. “What? This is how hard you push me. I’m not doing anything that we don’t do all the time.”

“But it’s what works for you, and I know how to get the best out of you.

Maybe this is not what works best for Dani.

I’ve been letting you take the lead on this since it was your idea.

But you need to learn what motivates Dani.

Maybe it’s not the drill sergeant and nose to the grind like you. Maybe you can try being friendly.”

Jaz looked at him aghast, not believing the words coming out of his mouth.

Mike took the racket out of her hand and started to realign the strings.

“We want the best out of her, not to beat her down where she has no confidence. Because you need her to win, and you two need to learn to play together .”

Jaz thought back over the last week, and it did seem like Daniela's game had gotten worse the longer she had been here.

She respected Mike and his opinion. He was a great coach, but more than that, he had really helped Jaz on the mental part of her tennis game.

If they were now going to play doubles together at Wimbledon in a few weeks, then they needed to get it together.

Yes now they were playing doubles at Wimbledon too!

It was actually Chris, the agent, who had the idea for them to enter the doubles draw at Wimbledon.

Jaz quickly realized it was for the publicity Daniela would get leading up to the Olympics.

But Tom and Mike actually thought it was a good idea for them to be battle-tested in a match setting before the pressure of the Olympics.

Plus, Jaz wasn’t playing Eastborne, the tune-up grass tournament before Wimbledon, so it would be a way to get a few extra matches in on the grass courts.

Even though she knew this pairing with Daniela was for publicity for the Olympics, she could admit their strengths complemented each other.

Their games were opposite but a near-perfect match on the court.

If they got it together, they could be an unstoppable force.

But their first doubles match against Marcos and some dude from the tennis club was a cacophony of missed cues, awkward positioning, and thinly veiled frustration between them.

She turned to Mike and nodded. “I hear ya.”

“Just try, Jaz. I bet you, our usual wager, that if you changed tactics, you might get more out of her than you hoped for.” Mike knew how competitive Jaz was and could never turn down a bet. Mike gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Grab a new racket. This one needs to be restrung.”

Jaz walked over to the bench where Daniela was slumped over. Still breathing heavily from their last drill. She took a seat beside Daniela and grabbed her electrolyte water.

“How you doing?” Jaz asked. She wondered if she had even asked Daniela that entire week she had been here.

“Just tired,” Daniela mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Tiredness is a luxury we cannot afford,” Jaz stated, her tone flat and unforgiving. “We have Wimbledon and then the Olympics.”

Daniela blew out a raspberry and Jaz could see her frustration level rising again. But remembering what Mike just told her, went for another tactic.

“Your backhand is gold.” Daniela’s left eyebrow raised skeptically, almost like she couldn’t believe Jaz was giving her a compliment. But Jaz continued, “It’s a great shot, and once you’ve backed someone into a corner with that backhand, they’re in jail and not getting out of the pickle.”

“Thanks, I never thought about it that way.” Daniela turned to her. “I usually use my forehand across the court to find a backhand winner.”

“A piece of advice. Don’t go looking for a winner. It will come on its own. In our match, that’s what you went away from. You were trying to find a winner on every shot versus letting the point come to you. And that got you away from your best shot, your backhand.”

Daniela looked contemplative, like she was replaying the match back in her head.

Jaz continued, “Just focus on what you’re doing instead of on anyone else is the most important thing.

Tennis is more of a mental game than anything.

The test of consistency and excellence is being able to compartmentalize all the emotions, allowing the mental and physical to stay locked in.

Be as present as possible and let the game come to you.

There’s a saying, and it’s completely true, that tennis players don’t just lose to opponents, they lose to themselves.

” Daniela turned to Jaz and nodded with a smile.

Fuck, maybe Mike was right. She was going to owe him another dollar.

The sun beat down on them as they returned to the court, the heat relentless.

But something had shifted. They were still miles away from a cohesive unit, still two fiercely independent women learning to navigate a shared space.

But maybe they could find some common ground.