Page 86 of Long Shot

Acrackresounded through Arthur Ashe Stadium, signaling the match’s official start.

Mac knew her placement was perfect. Her eyes darted to the speedometer behind Taylor. Smiling to herself, Mac was thrilled to see a whooping 140 miles per hour serve. It was a great way to start off the match.

Now Taylor knows, I’m not playing around.

But with a swiftness Mac hadn’t seen from her in over a decade, Taylor met the ball and smacked it back across the court with a light grunt.

Mac clenched her jaw as the ball came hurtling back toward her. Taylor managed to keep most of the ball's speed on the return.

Pushing off her knees, Mac raced across the court to hit the ball. She was lighter this time around. The week prior to thematch, Babs redirected Mac’s training to help her drop some extra weight. Taylor was small, she could run around the court easily.

She gripped her racket, like it was all that stood between her and annihilation. She lowered it just below her hip. Her hands guided the racket to the ball, meeting it just as the yellow felt reached the peak of its arch.

Growling, Mac followed through the shot with all her force. The racket could only handle so much of the reverberation from the hit.

A light tingle ran up Mac’s arms to her elbow. But she had placed the ball well. It landed in no man’s land, making it difficult for Taylor to even make it to the ball. She tried anyway, lightly hitting it into the net.

The crowd roared at Mac’s first point. Knowing the crowd was on her side brought Mac a strange amount of confidence. Over the course of one season, they had shifted from Taylor to Mac. Of course, part of Mac felt bad that Taylor would feel iced out.

Mac wrinkled her nose, wiping the first drops of sweat from her face as she turned back toward her baseline.

“Fifteen, love.” The umpire announced.

Mac felt like she could hear the Sports Central commentators between points.

“Vicious first point in this highly anticipated match.” One pundit remarked.

Another anchor nodded. “We’re really witnessing a once in a lifetime showdown. These two not only have the skill, they have history. And we all want to watch this drama play out.”

The first set was a relentless war. Neither Mac nor Taylor would cede any ground. After 12 games, the first set was tied 6 -6.

Mac looked at the scoreboard.8 - 9, Taylor’s advantage.It was too important a point for Mac to back off. All bets pointed to a third set for this matchup. But Mac wasn’t willing to give up one of her three sets.

They were already over an hour into the match.

Trying to catch her breath, Mac bounced a ball on the rubber court. Taylor’s cheeky smile had faded, the reality of their game setting in from both of them. The sun beat down on them the entire time, sweat collecting on their clothes.

Mac looked down at the ground and then to Taylor who was in position. If her smile hadn’t faded, Mac would have assumed she was unaffected by the last hour of gameplay. But she was obviously tired.

Come on, Mac. Get the point.Shaking her head, Mac served the ball as hard as she could. But as it soared over the net, it landed just outside the service box.

“Out.” The umpire called.

Mac’s head dropped, taking a new ball from the ball girl. It would have to be slower – she couldn’t risk the ball falling out of line and losing the first set on an out ball.

Pushing air out of her mouth, Mac looked at her racket. She launched another serve, this time with less force.

It landed in the service box. But without serious speed, it was all too easy for Taylor to return. She sent Mac running to the opposite side of the court, a light moan escaping her lungs as her racket made contact.

Mac blinked away the thoughts that came with the familiar noise. She refocused on the ball and ran to meet it. But she just missed it.

“Set, Miss Young.” The umpire called. The crowd clapped lightly, a little disappointed to not see their underdog take the first set.

Taylor pumped her fist as she walked to her bench. A ball boy handed her a towel as she sat down.

Mac did the same, her head drooping as she walked.

Now she had no choice, she had to win the next set or her chances at winning the U.S. Open would disappear.

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