Page 65 of Match Point

An intense—and familiar—sensation ripped through my abdomen. It was as if a taut rubber band had snapped within me, leaving me momentarily breathless and stunned. I immediately cried out, clutching my side as the intensity of the pain washed over me in waves. Each attempt to move only seemed to exacerbate the discomfort, making it clear that something was seriously amiss.

The crowd noise fell to a hush.

Fear and frustration gripped me as I realized that I might have re-torn my oblique muscle. The pain was sharp and persistent, throbbing with each heartbeat as I tried to process what had just happened. Simple actions like twisting or bending became nearly impossible tasks, and even taking a deep breath felt like a calculated risk. My body, once a well-tuned machine, now felt like an intricate puzzle with a critical piece missing.

Dominic was at my side in an instant, putting a tender arm around my shoulder and leading me to the sideline. A trainer came jogging out to meet me with a bag of medical supplies just as I collapsed to the grass, rolling over onto my back until all I saw was blue sky.

“My oblique,” I said through gritted teeth. “Same one I’ve injured before. Fuck, I’m in heaps of pain.”

“What’s all this, then?” the chair umpire asked. He was suddenly standing over me with the others.

“Oblique injury,” Dominic answered for me.

“Can he go on?”

Dominic looked down at me.

“Only need a medical time-out,” I replied. “Then I’ll be right as rain.”

“Three minutes,” the umpire said, examining his watch. “Any longer and I’ll have to penalize you a point.”

“We know the rules, thanks,” Dominic replied.

“Piss off,” I muttered as soon as the umpire was out of earshot.

The trainer applied some kinesiology tape to help isolate and support the oblique injury, then sprayed my entire side down with a medical spray. A freezing sensation oozed through my skin, and within seconds the pain was replaced with numbness. Dominic helped me to my feet, and I twisted my torso to the left and right, testing how it felt.

“Can you play?” Dominic asked.

“I don’t have as much motion to my left,” I whispered. “Right side is okay.”

A dark expression fell over my partner’s face. “Probably didn’t get enough rest last night, huh?”

It took me a few seconds to realize what he meant.I was with Miranda last night. The photos prove it.

“Just cover more of the court so I can use my forehand,” I snapped.

“Whatever you say.” Dominic turned away, flashed a thumbs-up to the chair umpire, and retook the court.

The fans applauded as I followed him over to the baseline. It was my turn to receive our opponents’ serve. The pain was still there, but buried under the numbing spray. It made me feel stiff.

I can do this, I told myself.Doubles means my partner can help cover my injured side.

But the rest of the match didn’t go the way I hoped. We lost the third set, 4 - 6. In fact, we were lucky to win even one more game after my injury.

In another context, I would have been ecstatic to get second place in doubles. Trophies were hard to come by, and I was thrilled to receive another piece of hardware. But I knew we could have won if not for my injury, so the only taste in my mouth was failure.

Dominic and I didn’t say anything to each other as we walked back to the locker room. Only when the door was closed, and we were alone, did I finally open my mouth. “Thanks for covering my weak side,” I said sarcastically.

“I covered plenty. It’s not my fault they saw your weakness and exploited it.”

“You barely shifted your position!” I argued, tossing down my bag. The numbing agent had worn off and the injury in my side throbbed with pain. “We still had a chance if we played like a team.”

“Team,” Dominic said, as if the word was a curse. “We’re a sorry excuse for a team.”

I laughed bitterly. “I knew you were jealous about Miranda.”

“Jealous?” He rounded on me, fury painted on his face. “I’m not jealous. I’m mad Miranda didn’t tell me that the other man she was involved with wasyou, one of my competitors. Fuck, I’m mad you didn’t tell me yourself!”

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