Page 65 of Breakpoint
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 justknewshe 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.
Epilogue
Jaz stood in the center of the court, ready to serve out the match. She thought she had moved on from this pressure. The crowd in the indoor arena in Singapore was on the edge of their seats, the murmurs still loud, even though the chair umpire had shushed them multiple times. They all wanted a glimpse of history. Of Jaz Mason’sactualfinal match.
Even though she had announced her retirement from the professional tour after the US Open, she was one of eight players who qualified for the year-end championship tournament. She wasn’t going to play, but Dani convinced her otherwise.
They were lounging by the pool, Jaz with a book in hand and Dani doom-scrolling through her phone and when another social media post popped up about Jaz’s retirement. “Jaz, you should really reconsider playing the Tour Finals.”
