Page 51 of Breakpoint
D ani walked out of the tunnel, holding the flowers both players had given, her tennis bag slung over her shoulder, to the roaring of thirty thousand fans.
Holy shit.
A rush washed over her like she had never felt.
This felt different from even the semi-final just forty-eight hours ago.
The crowd felt louder and the energy palpable.
This was a moment that she had dreamed about, but never imagined it would feel quite like this.
She couldn’t envision a better high. No wonder Jaz had played for over twenty years.
She looked to her player’s box to search for Tom.
He gave her a gruff head nod, almost to say, ‘Block all this out and focus on Dani.’ Sitting beside him in her player’s box for the first time was her mom, dad, and love of her life, Jaz.
Jaz looked nervous, and Dani didn’t know if Jaz was nervous for her or because of all the attention on her.
She was in the locker room when the commentators on the television panned to her player’s box. They mentioned the murmurs from the crowd when Jaz walked in and speculated why she was there. One commentator quickly deduced that Dani was her partner. In life and not just in doubles.
The photos and video had been released the morning after Jaz’s announcement, solidifying what some suspected from Jaz’s speech that she and Dani were together.
Turns out it was some random college student who had taken the video and was trying to make a quick buck.
Dani guessed anyone with a phone could make a name for themselves, even if it was through outing someone and disclosing people’s personal business.
But Jaz told her not to worry or be angry about that asshole and stay locked in.
Her mom agreed. Dani introduced Jaz to her parents before the match on the practice court while she was getting loose.
To say it was icy was an understatement.
She told Jaz how her parents had been with her throughout the tournament, and they had mended fences.
Though Jaz was still a bit salty, on her behalf, and stated clearly she hadn’t forgotten the last year and how they had frozen Dani out.
Somehow they all knew not to get into anything at this moment or cause Dani any additional undue stress right before her first Grand Slam final.
Jaz simply shook both of their hands and didn’t say much else this morning.
During her on-court warm-up, she tried not to pay attention to them but couldn’t help but take a few peeks at her box to see how they were getting along.
Jaz’s face was a bit strained and obviously uncomfortable, but she was at least talking to her mom.
It looked like they were talking about the match and tactics, as Jaz pointed to the baseline and mimicked a forehand .
The chair umpire finally called time on their warm-up and for them to get ready to start the match.
Walking to the center of the court to serve in her first Grand Slam final was paralyzing as fuck.
The intensity of those final few minutes brought screams and cheers from the spectators.
Now, time seemed to stop, and thirty thousand people were all quiet and waiting for her to perform. To win.
Suddenly, she felt small and frail. A little isolated, like never before. She bounced on the balls of her feet, the familiar pre-match nerves morphed into something else entirely, a crushing wave of anxiety. The doubts started to plague her.
Could she continue her brilliant path on the biggest stage in tennis?
Could she be the new face of American tennis and walk out of here with people saying that’s our champion?
She knew winning a Slam changed your life, but an American winning the US Open was a whole ‘nother level.
And now with Jaz retiring, the pressure was put squarely on her to carry the reins.
Dani wanted to come out aggressively. Win her service points and attack anything short. She started her serve motion, and her first serve went squarely into the net. The second one went long. She had double-faulted right out of the gate.
“Shit!” she muttered under her breath. Not a great start. She gripped her racket, knuckles white, but the familiar weight felt foreign, almost hostile.
She finally got the ball into play, but her footwork was off, and she hit an errant shot.
Then another serve went long. The crowd murmured, causing her shoulders to sag.
A cold dread settled in her stomach, a knot of fear that tightened with every missed shot.
The first game of the match, and she was in her head.
Throughout the first set, Dani just moved a step or two too slow and could never get it together. She saw the blur of the yellow ball, heard the sharp crack of her opponent’s racket, but it all seemed distant, unreal.
Each point felt like a desperate scramble. Her confidence from the beginning of the match had disappeared. She doubted herself and over thought every shot, causing her to play tight and her shots to go long or into the net.
She knew Katarina would be tough. She was fast, had a crazy kick serve, a backhand slice was tricky, and she was great at the net.
There was a reason she was the number one player in the world and had beaten Jaz forty-eight hours ago.
But Dani was giving the match away. Her body felt heavy, her legs leaden, as if the very court was trying to hold her down.
The score mounted, and the games quickly slipped away.
She lost the first set 6-1 in under forty-five minutes through a blur of unforced errors. An embarrassing showing in the final. She knew she was better than this. This was a thing she’d dreamt of, practiced for, yearned for, since she first picked up a racquet and she was playing like shit.
The crowd groaned as the first set ended so quickly, likely upset that they had spent their hard-earned money on such a bad match.
Dani felt the pressure even more to get it together and give them a show.
She sat down at her seat during the changeover between sets and tried to recalibrate herself.
She needed to stop thinking about that last point and move on to her strategy for the next set.
She looked to her player’s box and could see Jaz muttering advice, coaching from the box as if Dani could hear her through the roar of the crowd.
She tried to remember Jaz’s words, to be mentally tough, and just play your game.
“Get it together, Dani,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this.”
They switched sides, and once again Katarina came out swinging.
She moved Dani all over the court. Katarina was playing a completely different game tactically than she had played against Jaz.
She was running a clinic in precision placement and moved with effortless grace, each shot a calculated strike.
It felt like every ball was perfectly on the line.
Dani rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She could feel the match slipping away.
Dani was finally able to win a long rally with her signature shot, a backhand down the line.
“Let’s fucking go, Dani!” she screamed, trying to hype herself up with some positive self-talk. Because being down this far in a match, that was the only thing she could think to do to prevent from crumbling. The crowd roared at her amazing shot, excited to finally have something to cheer for.
She tried to rally and play better. She went to her strengths of her backhand and movement by trying to keep more balls in play. And Dani got better as the match went on. The crowd was squarely behind her, pumping her up with each point she won.
“Let’s go, Dani, let’s go! Let’s go, Dani, let’s go!” They cheered during one of the television timeouts. Even though she was losing badly, it gave her a bit of pep in her step .
But Katarina was still better. She moved with predatory efficiency, her shots precise and powerful.
On match point, Dani stood on the baseline, waiting for the massacre to be over.
The ending was an anticlimactic inevitability.
Katarina served, and the ball dropped into the service box opposite her and kicked dramatically toward the sideline.
Dani didn’t even have time to get her racket on it.
“ Game, set, match 6-1, 6-3, Miss Katarina Hajak,” the chair umpire announced, and then it was all over.
Dani couldn’t even hear the roar of the crowd cheering the new champion. It was a distant echo, because the only thing on her mind was the crushing defeat. She hadn’t met the moment. The pressure, the sheer magnitude of the occasion, had overwhelmed her.
Ninety minutes ago, she was on top of the world, and now, after one bad match, her tournament was over.
Dani stood there, hands on her hips, heart pounding in her chest. She’d been so close to her first Grand Slam title.
So fucking close. And let it slip away. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a mixture of frustration and a deep, aching disappointment.
She was breathless, deflated, and heartbroken. It felt surreal—the sudden stoppage after all of that motion, all of that effort. But it was really over. Two weeks of intense play leading up to this moment, only to walk away without the ultimate prize.
She went to the net to shake Katarina’s hand and to congratulate her, a hollow smile plastered on her face.
She couldn’t make a quick escape here like she could if she had lost in a previous round.
She had to sit here for the trophy ceremony and watch them fete Katarina and receive her runner-up trophy .
This fucking sucks.
She returned to her chair and grabbed a thick, blue towel and tossed it over her head, both to dry the sweat dripping from her hair and to hide the tears that wanted to fall.
By the time she pulled herself together and removed the towel, the court had been arranged for the trophy ceremony.
She walked towards it, her steps measured, each one a stark reminder of her defeat.
She stood beside the gleaming silver trophy, the one she thought she would take home tonight.
The tournament organizer began his speech, but none of the words registered in her head.
She knew she had to speak, to offer the obligatory congratulations, to acknowledge the crowd.
But the words felt heavy, trapped in her throat.
Honestly, she didn’t even remember what she really said up there.
The platitudes she gave to Katarina felt hollow, a poor substitute for the victory speech she’d rehearsed in her mind.
Because she just knew she was going to win, but instead she got the shit kicked out of her.
She remembered to thank her family and Tom.
Finally, she turned to Jaz, who for the first time was sitting in her player’s box.
It wasn’t the right moment to say how much she loved her and that she wouldn’t be here without her.
“Jaz,” she said, her lip wobbling as the crowd roared at the mention of Jaz’s name.
Her chest tightened with an overwhelming warmth.
Jaz’s eyes brimmed with love for her. For a second, she thought she might lose it right there, in front of everyone.
Instead, she said two simple words that she hoped encompassed everything that Jaz meant to her. “Thank you. ”
She accepted the runner-up plate, its cold, smooth surface a stark contrast to the burning sting of tears she fought to hold back. After what felt like hundreds of pictures standing beside Katarina’s smiling face holding up the trophy, she could dash into the locker room.
She threw her bag and rackets down and crumbled onto the locker room floor.
She was already replaying the loss in her head, thinking about critical points.
She had done everything in her power to prepare herself for this moment, and that she still wasn’t good enough was hard to process.
No, it was the worst feeling ever. She knew there were enormous highs in the game of tennis, but she had never felt a massive low.
Not even when she lost in the first round.
“This is a little like deja vu.” She looked up to see Jaz standing over her. “Finding you in the locker room like this after a loss.”
Dani's eyes were red-rimmed and clouded with disappointment. “Well, at least I’m consistent about something,” she spat. “I completely folded in the first set.”
Jaz went to sit down beside her. “She’s the number one player in the world. Hell, she even beat me. You were the underdog in this match, Dani.”
Dani shook her head, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. “Stop right there. I don’t want to be the underdog, it’s insulting. In every match, both players have a chance.” Dani had one and completely blew it.
“I’ll keep it real then.” Jaz looked her in the eye, her expression serious without an ounce of pity. “She flat-out outplayed you, Dani. You weren’t aggressive or moving well on the court. Your footwork was atrocious.”
Dani slammed her head against the locker. “Fuck, that hurt even worse.” She never expected Jaz to offer platitudes or hollow reassurances. But she knew deep down Jaz was right and everyone could see that she played like shit.
“Yes, it fucking hurts. To lose something you’ve worked so hard for in front of millions of people.
You’re going to feel this loss,” Jaz said, her voice firm but gentle.
“You’re probably already replaying the points in your head and questioning everything.
But remember this moment, the feeling, and say never again.
Make up your mind and put in the work. These failures should fuel you, and push you to train harder, play smarter, dig deeper. ”
Jaz took her hand and intertwined their fingers, providing strength and comfort. “And win or lose, I’ll be right here by your side to cheer you on.”
And she knew Jaz would be. Because when Jaz Mason said something, she meant it. And at that moment, Dani knew she had already won the most important game of her life.