Delaney Ricciardo is fierce and her determined to win at any cost has not made her well liked. But by the time she retires from tennis she is a twenty four grand slam winner and regarded as the greatest tennis player the world has ever seen.
But si...
I am standing at the entryway. Just two steps from the court. I can hear the noise of the crowd. I can see from my narrow vantage point, a sign in the far back of the arena read 'take it to the finals Delaney!'
There are three other people standing between me and Anna Wade. The reff, my uncle, and her coach are acting as a buffer between us. and I am glad for it.
Yesterday she told one of the newspapers 'I expect a swift and decisive victory in my favour. But I will try not to make it too embarrassing for Ricciardo'
I hold my racket in my hand and play with the strings, making sure they are tight. I haven 7 more in my kit. I run my finger over my R necklace. I bounce up on the balls of my feet, wearing my white runners with a hint of green, matching my one piece
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My uncle puts his hand on my shoulder. I can feel the weight of it, the weight of his belief in me, the weight of his excitement.
Anna Wade is the women who all those months ago, I was sitting in the stands of the Us Open watching her play Nicki. I was praying for her to win, hoping to stop Nicki from winning another grand slam title. She almost did. Maybe if she hadn't lost to Nicki in the final set, I wouldn't be here. I'd be back at home in Perth with my dog and cat and all the other animals. I'd probably be watching this game in tv, another women would be standing in my place.
But I was here, and I wasn't going to mess it up.
When I was playing pro the first time around- that decade and a half of clawing my way to the top and staying there for as long as I could. I didn't delight enough in those accomplishments. I would win and then move on to the next challenge. I took it all for granted
But right now, as I turn back to take another look at the crowd. I know that, in at least one way, I have evolved.
My older self knows that you must stop - in the middle of the chaos, to take in the world around you. To breath in deeply, smell the sunscreen and the rubber of the ball, let the breeze blow across your neck, feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. In this respect, I love the way the world has aged me.
I inhale and hold my breath. I let it fill my lungs and raise my chest. And then I blow it out, ready to go.
I wipe the top of my shoes and with on last flip of my racket, I walk out onto the court.
