Page 101 of Match Point

I gave a final wave to the fans and exited into the tunnel, feeling like a winner rather than someone who had just punched his ticket home.

The TV was on in the locker room, showing the last bits of coverage from the match. And Miranda’s voice, the voice of a woman with whom I was falling in love, filled the space.

“Tristan Carfrae may have hoped to advance further than the semifinals, but he just made a huge statement here at the US Open. He’s nowhere close to being done.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” said John McEnroe, her broadcast partner. “I’d hate to be the players who have to face him at the Australian Open in a few months.”

I sat on the bench in the locker room and smiled up at the TV. All things considered, this felt like a victory. And I still had a doubles match to play tomorrow.

“All in all, not a bad trip,” I said to myself.

Then the TV coverage changed.

“As exciting as that match was in Arthur Ashe, the real fireworks were over at Louis Armstrong Stadium, where Dominic deGrom and Novak Djokovic were battling to face Gabriel in the finals. The controversial disqualification came in the third set…”

I gasped when I saw what happened.

50

Miranda

“What happened?” as soon as we were off the air.

“He was disqualified,” one of the sound engineers said. “Look, they’re showing the replay now.”

Dominic had won the first two sets, and was winning 3 - 2 in the third. His opponent hit a winner that barely clipped the line, and Dominic was showing some frustration. When the ball rolled across the court by his feet, he flicked it up into the air with his racket, then smashed it into the wall behind him.

But it didn’t hit the wall. It hit the line judge standing in front of the wall.

“Dominic clearly didn’t mean to do it,” I said. The camera was zoomed in on his face, and he immediately winced and struck out his hand toward the line judge, then jogged over and made sure she was okay.

“Doesn’t matter,” McEnroe said with a groan. “The chair umpire has to disqualify him for that. You can’t get away with anything like that nowadays. Unlike when I was playing.”

The television switched to the post-game interview with Dominic. “It’s disappointing, but it’s my own fault. Everyone who watches me play knows I would never intentionally hit a ball at a line judge, but I still allowed my emotions to get the best of me. I need to be more careful in the future. But for now, my US Open is over, so it’s time to focus on the Australian Open.”

“You still have the doubles final tomorrow,” the interviewer gently reminded him.

“Oh, yeah.” He cracked a smile. “Tristan and I are going to take home the big trophy. Just wait.”

Even though he was smiling, my heart went out to him. Getting disqualified was never easy to stomach, and it had just happened to him when he was cruising to an easy victory in the semifinals of the US Open. I was eager to finish up our post-game briefing in the booth so I could go down and comfort him.

“Jacobs?” someone called. “The producer wants to see you.”

As I walked over to his office, I saw Sloane Stephens walking out. She gave me a big smile on her way out. We were competitors while I was an active player, but since retirement she had been incredibly sweet to me.

What’s she doing here?

“I just saw the replays,” I said while walking into the office. “Brutal way to go home. What are the talking points you want us to use in the finals match between Moreau and Djokovic? We have to bring it up, right?”

“I didn’t call you in here to talk about the deGrom match,” my producer replied. “Sit down.”

I frowned at the seat across from his desk. “I’m fine standing.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “Miranda, we know you met with Tristan Carfrae before today’s match.”

My heart sank.Shit.

“I was wishing him good luck before the match,” I said. “He’s my friend, and we’re sort of more than friends, so I don’t understand what’s suspicious about that.”

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