Status: Active
Tumbling Down
I hear a fire, it's burning
“Anderson’s really being pushed here, just not moving with her usual ease. Brilliant forehand from Bloskova. Anderson’s going for it, sliding out a- oh gosh, Anderson’s down and it does not look good, not good at all.”
It was all that played on TV for the next two days, every channel for what it seemed like every minute of the day. The replay of my injury was generally followed by the replay of my press conference, not one of my finest moments, I must say though the aftermath of the interview hasn’t been completely negative. As it turns out, the American public loves a loudmouth such as myself.
The women’s tennis circuit is not a terrible one to be a part of. There isn’t too much bitching, waring or grudges against other players, that was a novelty of the men’s game, they were just so much more openly competitive than the girls. I guess that that was the reason for forcing girls to play mixed tennis in their junior years, to instil a competitive streak inside of them. The one’s who became competitive made it in professional tennis, I was one of them. The ones who didn’t became coaches or receptionists. In reality, the women’s circuit was just as bad as the men’s, but we were better at being fake, at saving face.
I hadn’t moved from my couch in two days unless it was to get food. I was running low on Doritos and I knew that soon that would become a problem which would result in me being forced to leave my apartment to go to the shops and buy more. I wasn’t quite sure what had happened to me, it was as if I had completely lost my way. I hadn’t showered, I hadn’t eaten properly, I wasn’t looking forward to the time approaching when I had to brush my hair and I was sure my apartment was beginning to smell. I looked around me and everything was a mess, I was making no effort to stay healthy I was making no effort to do anything.
The only time I had gotten up was to answer the door where there would be a large amount of flowers from other tour players. The reading of those letters and the watching of the TV was my only encounters with the outside world. Growing up I had put in so much effort into playing tennis, training and eating properly that I never once stopped to try and make friends. I had been playing tennis since four and it had always been a priority for me and my parent. I had two other sisters however they were twenty years younger than me and my parent’s main priority. I know that there’s a massive difference between myself and my sisters however, while I was growing up they were so focused on my tennis they didn’t have time to do much else.
I didn’t have time to do much else. Not through elementary school, not through middle school, not even during my time in Bolliteri. I was so focused on tennis that I forgot about so many other aspects of life. Then there was Matt.
Matt has been the one constant in my life aside from tennis but right now even he was gone. Since my outburst a few days ago he had stopped speaking to me, and I was much too proud to apologise. Our relationship was a strange one and to be honest I had no idea what was going on between us. Sometimes it seemed like we were more than friends, other times it was like we had a basic coach/player relationship. Most of the time I just felt confused.
Over the week I had speaking with the specialist who had told me that my injury was a grade II ligament injury in my knee which resulted in me having to take six weeks out from tennis. They’re currently making a brace for my knee which I need to pick up in a few days, physio and electro therapy should speed up the process but that involves leaving the house and, well, to be honest, I really don’t want to leave the comfort of the couch let alone leave the home. I know that I shouldn’t be letting my body go in the way that it is but it’s so much easier being unhealthy than it is being healthy. My daily exercise is limping to the fridge, the pantry and using the TV remote.
“Brooke!” it was Matt, I regret giving him a key “Get up” he spat “you look pathetic.”
“Yes, that tends to happen when you’ve been abandoned by everyone” I stressed.
“I’m a phone call away” he said arrogantly.
“As was I” I said coolly.
“Stop being a whiny bitch Brooke” he snapped.
“No” I yelled “why should I, all you’ve been is an asshole to me ever since I hurt my knee.”
“Oh shut up Brooke, you don’t know what you’re on about!”
This was another element of our relationship that I forgot to include. We were a self-destructive pair, half the time we were yelling at each other, objects flying across rooms. We were both stubborn, both arrogant, both sly and suspicious of each other when we had no reason to be. We were two volatile people, two people who were annoyed by the slightest thing, who had fury boiling just below the surface.
“Fucking get up bitch” he roared, grabbing at my legs in an attempt to pull me from the
couch.
I screamed loudly as he grabbed hold of my injured leg “Get off me” I sent the TV remote flying in his direction before it came to a halt smashing against a wall.
“What’s yo-“ there was a knock at the door which caused both of us to fall silent. There was another rap at the door “Go on, get up and answer the door” Matt snapped in my direction.
“Asshole” I snapped as I answered the door.
It was all that played on TV for the next two days, every channel for what it seemed like every minute of the day. The replay of my injury was generally followed by the replay of my press conference, not one of my finest moments, I must say though the aftermath of the interview hasn’t been completely negative. As it turns out, the American public loves a loudmouth such as myself.
The women’s tennis circuit is not a terrible one to be a part of. There isn’t too much bitching, waring or grudges against other players, that was a novelty of the men’s game, they were just so much more openly competitive than the girls. I guess that that was the reason for forcing girls to play mixed tennis in their junior years, to instil a competitive streak inside of them. The one’s who became competitive made it in professional tennis, I was one of them. The ones who didn’t became coaches or receptionists. In reality, the women’s circuit was just as bad as the men’s, but we were better at being fake, at saving face.
I hadn’t moved from my couch in two days unless it was to get food. I was running low on Doritos and I knew that soon that would become a problem which would result in me being forced to leave my apartment to go to the shops and buy more. I wasn’t quite sure what had happened to me, it was as if I had completely lost my way. I hadn’t showered, I hadn’t eaten properly, I wasn’t looking forward to the time approaching when I had to brush my hair and I was sure my apartment was beginning to smell. I looked around me and everything was a mess, I was making no effort to stay healthy I was making no effort to do anything.
The only time I had gotten up was to answer the door where there would be a large amount of flowers from other tour players. The reading of those letters and the watching of the TV was my only encounters with the outside world. Growing up I had put in so much effort into playing tennis, training and eating properly that I never once stopped to try and make friends. I had been playing tennis since four and it had always been a priority for me and my parent. I had two other sisters however they were twenty years younger than me and my parent’s main priority. I know that there’s a massive difference between myself and my sisters however, while I was growing up they were so focused on my tennis they didn’t have time to do much else.
I didn’t have time to do much else. Not through elementary school, not through middle school, not even during my time in Bolliteri. I was so focused on tennis that I forgot about so many other aspects of life. Then there was Matt.
Matt has been the one constant in my life aside from tennis but right now even he was gone. Since my outburst a few days ago he had stopped speaking to me, and I was much too proud to apologise. Our relationship was a strange one and to be honest I had no idea what was going on between us. Sometimes it seemed like we were more than friends, other times it was like we had a basic coach/player relationship. Most of the time I just felt confused.
Over the week I had speaking with the specialist who had told me that my injury was a grade II ligament injury in my knee which resulted in me having to take six weeks out from tennis. They’re currently making a brace for my knee which I need to pick up in a few days, physio and electro therapy should speed up the process but that involves leaving the house and, well, to be honest, I really don’t want to leave the comfort of the couch let alone leave the home. I know that I shouldn’t be letting my body go in the way that it is but it’s so much easier being unhealthy than it is being healthy. My daily exercise is limping to the fridge, the pantry and using the TV remote.
“Brooke!” it was Matt, I regret giving him a key “Get up” he spat “you look pathetic.”
“Yes, that tends to happen when you’ve been abandoned by everyone” I stressed.
“I’m a phone call away” he said arrogantly.
“As was I” I said coolly.
“Stop being a whiny bitch Brooke” he snapped.
“No” I yelled “why should I, all you’ve been is an asshole to me ever since I hurt my knee.”
“Oh shut up Brooke, you don’t know what you’re on about!”
This was another element of our relationship that I forgot to include. We were a self-destructive pair, half the time we were yelling at each other, objects flying across rooms. We were both stubborn, both arrogant, both sly and suspicious of each other when we had no reason to be. We were two volatile people, two people who were annoyed by the slightest thing, who had fury boiling just below the surface.
“Fucking get up bitch” he roared, grabbing at my legs in an attempt to pull me from the
couch.
I screamed loudly as he grabbed hold of my injured leg “Get off me” I sent the TV remote flying in his direction before it came to a halt smashing against a wall.
“What’s yo-“ there was a knock at the door which caused both of us to fall silent. There was another rap at the door “Go on, get up and answer the door” Matt snapped in my direction.
“Asshole” I snapped as I answered the door.
♠ ♠ ♠
sorry, this was a filler, thanks to the few more subscribers, you are great! comments are great :)