Page 23 of Breakpoint
“Thanks, Brandon.” She wrapped her arms around him, the trophy almost falling out of her hand. Kira saw the struggle andgrabbed it from her so she could give Brandon a proper hug. He had been there since the beginning, and it felt right to share every moment with him.
When she finally released Brandon from her grip, she gave Mike and Kira fist bumps and high-fives. Celebrating the euphoria of a job well done. The British royals who had been in the royal box were there to shake her hand. She had met them before during her previous win, but it was still intimidating to say the least, especially because she was still hot, sweaty, and smelled awful.
Finally, after the rest of the pomp and pageantry of winning, Jaz made her way to the players’ locker room to grab a shower before having to do another round of media. She turned the corner to where her stuff was stored and found Dani leaning against the lockers.
When she saw Jaz, she rushed over to her and gave her a hug. “Jaz, that was awesome. Like other worldly,” Dani effused while still holding onto Jaz tightly. One thing that Jaz had also learned since they became friends was just how tactile Dani was. She was always giving her a high five or hugging her as she entered or left rooms.
The warmth of Dani’s hug buzzed with feelings inside Jaz that she had yet to place. “You’ve seen people play in Grand Slams before,” she stated as she removed herself from Dani’s embrace.
“Yes, but I’ve also seen up close the work you put into it. I've been beside you for every match. I feel like I’ve been a part of this win, too.”
“Well, you have. I wouldn’t have done it without you,” Jaz stated honestly.
“Thanks for saying that,” Dani demurred, blushing at the compliment but looking like she didn’t believe it.
“I don’t bullshit, and you know I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Training with you pushed me farther. I can admit it, begrudgingly, it probably put me over the edge. So let’s go win that doubles trophy.”
A confident smile spread across Dani’s face. “Oh, hell yeah.”
Because they had shockingly mowed down the competition at Wimbledon and Jaz found herself, only three hours after winning the singles trophy, out playing for the doubles title with the person she least expected.
Dani Kappas.
Centre Court at Wimbledon was still filled to capacity. A sea of hushed anticipation focused on the patch of pristine green. Usually, after the singles finals, though their tickets allow them to watch all the matches that day, attendees often trickle out. The stadium is normally only fifty percent full after the women's final. Doubles just didn’t really draw the attention that singles did, but today, likely the fact that Jaz and Dani were playing—two well-known singles players—every seat in the stands was taken.
Right now, they were still technically in the set but down a double break and Dani was unraveling. The enormity of the occasion was visibly taking its toll. Jaz could physically see thetremors in her hands between a few points. Her usually reliable backhand was betraying her, sailing long or wide, landing with frustrating regularity into the net.
Jaz could see each mistake chipped away at Dani’s confidence. She was frustrated and wanted to shout at Dani to get it together, she was pulling both of them down. Playing doubles was much more complex than singles, faster, and more net play. If she made a mistake in singles, it was on her, but in doubles, it affected the team.
Dani’s head was hanging low, and she repeatedly said, “Sorry” to Jaz after every error or “Stupid” to herself. Jaz reigned in her anger and tried to remember what Mike had said. Instead of popping off, she gives her nods of encouragement. Dani still seemed to shrink under the weight of the moment. It was the same energy Jaz saw across the net when she beat her at the French Open.
“Game and set, Miss Stevens, Miss Nichols, 6-3,” the chair umpire called.
They had to get it together quickly to at least give themselves a fighting chance. At a changeover, Jaz called for the trainer, feigning a slight tweak in her ankle. It was a tactical move that many players did to slow their opponent’s momentum, and Jaz needed a chance to steal a few extra moments. To pull Dani back from the precipice. As the trainer fussed over Jaz’s perfectly healthy ankle, though her hamstring still felt like shit, she leaned in close to Dani, her voice low and urgent. “Forget the crowd, Dani. Forget the score. Forget it’s Wimbledon. It’s just tennis. It’s the same game you’ve played a thousand times. You are good enough. We are good enough. Trust your instincts. Trust me. We can do this.”
Dani looked up, meeting Jaz’s gaze, and whispered, “I just don’t want to let you down.”
“You’ll let me down if you don’t play your game,” Jaz spat back. She hoped that Dani could see the unwavering belief she had in them in her eyes. “Remember who the fuck you are. And I’m right here with you. JazfuckingMason is on your side.”
Dani tilted her shoulders back and nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath.
When play resumed, it seemed like a different Dani stepped onto the court. The energy on their side of the court had changed. She moved with a newfound lightness, her strokes regaining their familiar rhythm and power. Her backhand found its range, driving deep and forcing their opponents onto the defensive. Even her forehand seemed to have more pop.
Jaz got a front-row seat to the woman they said would be the future of tennis, and she could now see why. When Dani Kappas turned it on and played with a freedom and passion, her game was out of this world. Jaz, sensing the change, played with even more ferocity, covering the court like a woman possessed, anticipating every move, her own game elevated by Dani’s resurgence. It had been a while since Jaz played that freely and completely dominated. Dani’s game elevated her game.
The momentum swung like a pendulum. They clawed their way back, point by point, game by game. They won the second set, forcing a decisive third. The crowd, sensing the shift, roared their approval, their cheers a wave of support that carried the two women forward. The final point was a haze of volleys, a desperate scramble at the net. Then, a final, definitive smash from Danithat landed squarely in the corner, unreturnable. Silence. Then, an eruption of sound as the chair umpire declared, “Game, set, and match, Miss Kappas, Miss Mason.”
Jaz fell to her knees in exhaustion, but also happiness. She had played two full matches on the same day. Her body was spent. She would definitely need to spend some time with Scott and do a long recovery, while Dani looked spry, like she could play another match. This was her first very group project, and they had aced it! With a friend. An overwhelming sense of joy and accomplishment rushed through Jaz. They had done it. They were Wimbledon champions.
She turned to Dani, and the sheer joy on Dani’s face was something she couldn’t describe. Winning a first major was a big deal for any player, and she got to experience Dani’s right alongside her. It filled Jaz with more joy than the singles trophy she had won earlier in the day.
Dani rushed over to her and gave Jaz her second crushing of the day, right in the middle of Centre Court with almost fifteen thousand fans screaming for them. Jaz pulled away from the sweaty hug and words beaming out of her.
“You’re a Grand Slam champion!” she screamed over the crowd.
Tears streamed down Dani’s face. “Holy shit, I can’t believe we just won!”
“Of course we did. Who was really going to stop us?” Jaz shot back confidently. Dani laughed loudly, genuine joy on her face. At that moment, Jaz couldn’t turn her eyes away.
