Page 18 of Game Point (Game, Set, and Match #2)

Oliver

Eyes on Fire – Blue Foundation

The tournament moved fast, and the first week flew by. I watched as many competitions as I could, taking notes on each player’s gameplay as if I was studying for my own competition. I’d watched a couple of men’s matches too, but my focus had definitely been on the women’s tournament.

I’d always been a fan, of course. But the competition there felt more exciting to me, and with Jon and Scottie being nice enough to let me to sit in on their coaching sessions, I could really start to understand what went into the coaching side of things, rather than the players.

Jon had been right. I didn’t have the heart anymore for playing. I knew how it felt to enjoy triumph, the fist pump at the securing of the final point, the rush of joy, the addiction of it all. And I had never wanted to lose, I had just lost my appetite for it.

‘Game, set, match – Bailey. 2 sets to love.’

That very hunger was clear across Dylan’s sharp features as she secured her second set, taking the win from Inés in the semi-finals and ultimately earning her place in the final. I shot to my feet, standing in the screaming crowd, clapping and cheering in my own celebration.

I was thrilled for her to have made it this far. Inés and Dylan shook hands, saying something across the net as Inés playfully stuck her tongue out at her. I made my way out of the stands, fighting the busy crowds and heading past security to behind the courts.

Darting around the corridors, lined with players midway through their warm-ups, coaches giving them last-minute pieces of advice, members of the press looking around for a big scoop.

One locker room had the door shut, the sharp noise of what I was sure was a racket being destroyed coming from within.

Making my way towards the women’s locker room, the door still cracked open, I held up my hand to knock on the doorframe when I paused, overhearing a voice from within.

‘I told you to stick to the baseline.’ I placed the voice as Brooke, the Australian twang telling me everything I needed to know.

‘I won, didn’t I?’ Dylan argued. I paused, unsure if I should interrupt this conversation judging from the ire in Dylan’s voice.

‘That’s not the point. If you don’t listen to me, then why am I even your coach?

’ The reply had me standing still, cataloguing her coach’s responses.

I was still to see Brooke in action, still to hear a report of any useful action.

I stepped to the side, leaning against the wall beside the door as if I was waiting for them to be finished, but still allowing myself to hear the argument unfolding inside.

‘To coach me?’ Dylan retorted. ‘I tried what you said, and it wasn’t working. Inés is an adaptive player. I know how she plays.’

Dylan had won, and Brooke was still picking her apart?

‘That wasn’t the game plan.’

‘No, it wasn’t your game plan,’ Dylan replied. ‘I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen, and I wasn’t about to let this match slip away from me.’

‘Watch how you talk to me. I don’t have to be here.’ A shiver ran down my spine at Brooke’s words, but Dylan’s response had me almost breaking out into a happy dance.

‘You’re right, you don’t.’

A group of giggling fans passed, and I pushed from the wall, hand rubbing the back of my neck, trying to play it cool. As soon as they disappeared, I went straight back to continue my eavesdropping.

‘You want to risk going without a coach? Right before the final?’ Brooke let out a cruel laugh. ‘Wouldn’t want to replay the past here, Bailey.’

A cutting silence fell over the room.

‘I just … you need to listen to me as much as I need to listen to you. I’m not a child. I’ve been playing since I was four. I have years of competitive experience under my belt now. But you still treat me as if I know nothing.’

‘And you play like you know everything. You’re cocky on the court. And while that might serve you well, Dylan, you still need support. Think of the work we’ve done these few weeks getting those movements right; your footwork has really come along.’

Dylan’s words were hesitant, as if she was not quite sure if she believed the mixed compliment. ‘Thank you.’

‘But without my help, how do you expect to close out this last match?’ Brooke added. ‘The final , Dylan. This is where you always fail.’

Something ripped open deep within me, as if I was feeling the same wound that Dylan was.

For Brooke to bring that up, right as she claimed her position in the final, feeding that negativity already clear in her head.

This was not what somebody on your team was supposed to do, and on top of that, absolutely not what Dylan needed to hear.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Dylan sounded entirely detached, as if she’d already given up. But how else was she supposed to feel when her coach didn’t have faith in her?

‘I have confidence, Dylan. The question is, do you?’ I heard noises of movement from within the locker room.

I moved away, as if I’d never been there in the first place.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I watched as Brooke left, turning around a corner.

I did a 180, not pausing this time as I knocked on the locker-room door.

‘Dylan?’ I waited a moment, hearing her soft voice reply, before I pushed the door open enough to pop my head in to take in the sight of her.

She was sitting on a bench, the room behind her empty.

Her hair still tucked behind her ears, her bag beside her as she packed furiously. ‘Hey, you played great out there.’

‘Thanks.’ She looked up to me, her eyes lighting up slightly. ‘Have you seen Inés?’

‘She will be fine. Inés always gets her own back.’

Dylan only grimaced, a slight line of worry creasing in her forehead.

‘You held your own on the court,’ I paused, ‘and with Brooke.’

She paused, ‘You heard?’

I sat down on the bench beside her, our bare knees touching, the proximity of skin-on-skin distracting. My gaze shifted back to her, finding her eyes already on me.

‘What do you think?’ she asked, ‘about what she said?’

I swallowed uncomfortably, ‘I hate agreeing with her. I think she has suggested a lot of wrong things for you …’ I trailed off, losing my nerve. ‘But the confidence thing, there’s some truth to that.’

‘I know I can do it.’

‘I believe you.’ Her body relaxed, the reaction giving me comfort she might trust what I had to say. I continued, ‘I think, when it comes to the finals, you struggle with that pressure. You get in your own head.’

Dylan’s gaze broke away, her jaw tightened, hands gripping at the edge of her bench.

I placed my hand on her knee. The contact was new, her skin soft.

I pushed those thoughts aside. ‘If I were you, that’s what I’d work on.

It’s hard not to get caught up. In three sets, there are second chances.

If you lose a set, you can always win the next one.

But it’s easy to spiral, and it’s incredibly easy to spot when the self-sabotage starts to kick in. ’

Curiosity glinted in her eyes; her brows pressed together. ‘Been watching a lot of my matches?’

‘I’ve caught them all.’ I was scared to admit the truth, worried she’d find it weird now we were friends. ‘I’ve followed your career for a long time, Dylan.’

Her reaction was immediate, a big goofy grin breaking out across her lips. Before she even said it, I knew what she was going to say. ‘Stalker.’

‘ You chased me , dare I remind you.’

‘Dare I remind you,’ she pointed her finger at me, ‘ you approached me at the party.’

I pushed her accusing finger away. ‘I was going to tell you how big a fan I was.’

‘Oh, now you’re a fan too?’ Her delight was unmatched, like she was enjoying this twist.

‘I enjoy good tennis.’ Dylan rolled her eyes. ‘You are one of the best players in the world, your ranking shows that. You need to believe in it, remember it while you play. I think it could take you all the way.’

‘You sound like a motivational poster,’ she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. ‘Believe in yourself and you will achieve.’

She was teasing me, I knew it. But that didn’t mean I missed the pink blush that rose across her cheeks.

‘Maybe we should get it tattooed on your body,’ I joked. ‘You might actually start to listen.’

‘Probably not.’ She smiled, a glint in her eyes. ‘I’ve been told that I’m rather stubborn.’

I laughed. ‘Just tell Brooke that.’

DYLAN

Do I always serve like this?

LINK: Dylan Bailey Serve at Wimbledon

Never mind. sorry, just saw the time. I haven’t slept all night. See you at the final?