Page 48 of Match Point

All in all, my three favorite male tennis players appeared to be on a collision course at Roland Garros.

23

Miranda

The day of the semifinals arrived, where Dominic and Tristan were matched up against each other. The winner would play Gabriel, who had already won his semifinal game earlier that day. I was tempted to go down to the locker room and wish them both good luck, but I was afraid to mess with either man’s mojo. The last thing I wanted to do was get in their heads. Instead, I settled for text messages, wishing each of them good luck. Dominic didn’t reply (he had probably already put his phone away) but Tristan responded within seconds:

Tristan: Thanks for the luck. Have a feeling I’ll need it against Dommy. Who are you rooting for, by the way?

Me: I’m rooting for both of you to play your best.

Tristan: That’s not a real answer.

Me: It’s the truth! I’m Switzerland: totally neutral. Not just because of personal reasons. I’m in the broadcast booth for the game, so my professional integrity requires that I don’t play favorites.

Tristan: What’s that? You say you’re rooting for me? Aw, I really appreciate that.

Me: Believe whatever you want to believe :-) Seriously though, good luck! You’re playing your best tennis right now.

Tristan: Thanks, love <3

I was putting away my phone when I got another message.

Gabriel: Who is texting you?

Me: Uh, what do you mean?

Gabriel: You have been staring down at your phone. I have been waiting for you to look up for several minutes.

I looked out the window of the booth, which faced the main court. The stands were nearly full for the match that was about to start, but Gabriel Moreau stood out among them all. His seat was down close to the court in the front row, and he was standing and facing directly at me. As soon as we locked eyes, he grinned and began texting again.

Gabriel: Hello. Have you enjoyed the gifts I have sent?

Me: The flowers are nice, but excessive.

Gabriel: When it comes to a woman’s love, there is no such thing as excessive.

Me: I’m flattered. I really am. But I’m not interested, Gabriel.

Gabriel: You say this thing, but I do not believe you. May I take you out to dinner after I win on Sunday?

Me: There’s that arrogance again. Assuming you’ll win on Sunday.

Gabriel: I am confident I can beat either of these men. Especially if their match lasts four or five sets. The winner will be too exhausted to defeat me.

Me: Is that the way you want to become the world #1 player? Letting these two wear each other out and then beating whoever is left?

Gabriel started to reply, but then a cluster of fans intercepted him by his seat and demanded autographs. While he signed them, Gabriel continued staring up at me with a vulpine smile. I couldn’t look away; his gaze transfixed me.

His confidence is definitely attractive, I thought.If only it didn’t come with his arrogance.

Then a cheer went up in the crowd, growing rapidly, as the two players for the match entered the arena. Dominic strode inside first, nodding politely to the crowd. Tristan was right behind him, grinning and waving to the fans like it was his first time playing professionally. His carefree attitude was totally different than the way he had acted in Melbourne; he really was more like himself these days. I knew better than most that it was easy to get down on yourself when you had nagging injuries holding you back.

“Welcome to Roland Garros,” my broadcast partner said into his microphone, “home of the French Open. It’s the men’s semifinals today, with a top-tier matchup between the world #1 player Dominic deGrom, challenged by the Australian Tristan Carfrae. With me in the booth is former top-ranked player Miranda Jacobs…”

I put my personal feelings aside as we began to call the match, but it was difficult to hide my emotions. It was true that I wasn’t rooting for either of them over the other, but I still wanted to see both men succeed. So when Dominic broke Tristan’s serve in the first set, I was simultaneously elated and gutted.

Dominic went on to win that first set, but Tristan rallied in the second to even the score. Dominic was strong in the third, then Tristan won the fourth again.

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