Page 49 of Carrie Soto Is Back

“Yes, thank you,” Bowe says.

I think about it and then chew a piece of ice left in the bottom of my glass. “You take too long to warm up. If you play somebody like O’Hara or Garcia who comes out of the gate hot, you’re gonna be down a set before you know it.”

Bowe nods. “I know,” he says. “You’re right.”

“Your serve is better now that you’re using the platform stance. But you don’t disguise your shots enough. I can always tell where you’re going.”

“How?” Bowe asks.

“Your right foot turns in or out depending on how wide you’re going.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he says, blinking and shaking his head.

“Yes, it does.”

“That’s insane.”

“It’s still true.”

“Okay,” he says. “That’s…thank you.”

“I’m not done. You’re way too lazy out there. You should be running down more balls. I can squeak any ball past you just by going wider than you feel like running. Everyone playing you knows you’re old. They know your back gives you trouble. The first thing they’re gonna do is hit it wide every time. You have to conserve energy, and I get that. But if you actually want to win something, you have to be willing to die to get to the ball, Huntley. And you’re not willing to do that. So you’re not gonna win any match that matters.”

Bowe’s jaw clenches; his lips are tight. He looks like he’s about to get up from the table. I feel a flash of disappointment, because like most men, he can dish it out but he can’t take it.

“It’s not my fault if you can’t handle the criticism,” I say.

Bowe looks down at the table. He stares at the water ring his drink has made on the cardboard coaster advertising a beer he can’t drink.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, when he looks up at me. “Sincerely. Thank you.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay, well…yeah, you’re welcome.”

Bowe leans into the table and keeps his voice low. He says, “I want to fucking win, Carrie. I want the crowd screaming my name. I want to know that for one moment, I am the best in the world. One last time.”

I can’t help but smile. “You are taking the words right out of my mouth.”

Transcript

Sports Australia

SportsLinewith Stephen Mastiff

Stephen Mastiff:Pivoting to women’s singles for a moment, who are we keeping an eye on here, mate?

Harrison Trawley, editor ofSportsPages Australia:Well, Nicki Chan, obviously. Everyone is expecting her in the final. But also, I’m looking at Ingrid Cortez, I’m looking at Natasha Antonovich. I’m excited to see some quick, daring moves from her. And I think power hitters like Odette Moretti out of Italy will have a good showing.

Mastiff:I notice you’re not mentioning Soto.

Trawley:[laughs] No, nobody’s looking at Soto for this. But if we want to talk about Americans, I think perhaps Carla Perez could seize the moment.

MID-JANUARY

The night before the Australian Open

My father and I aresitting on the patio of my hotel suite, looking out over the city, discussing the draw, which was announced earlier today. I’m in section 7. In my first match I’ll be playing a twenty-two-year-old Czech serve-and-volley player named Madlenka Dvoráková. We are playing day 1 at Rod Laver Arena, the highest-profile court.

“It is not an accident,” my father says. “That they have you center court against a low-ranked player. You’re unseeded, but they are behind you.”

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