Welcome to the Jungle
Prologue
"Game, set, match, Sharapova!" the chair umpire's voice echoed throughout the entire stadium. Center Court at the U.S. Open was in an uproar; a standing ovation all around...
Maria Sharapova raised her arms above her head in victory, a triumphant scream escaping through her thin lips as her opponent watched everyone applaud for the Russian...
They were all screaming her name...
Sharapova's opponent, Casey Savage sunk sullenly into her chair by the side of the court, the tournament towel draped over her head in shame. The hard, unpleasant feeling of failure was slowly taking over her body and Casey felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes...
A familiar tightness was itching at the back of her throat...
The match was over, the new U.S. Open champion had been decided. Sharapova had won two sets to one (5-7, 7-6, 6-4). Casey had given it her all although some would argue that she gave more than that...
Suddenly she heard laughing and Casey lifted the sweat-soaked towel away from her head and searched the stands. The laughter was beginning to echo and then she spotted her older brother, Carter grasping his sides with tears streaking down his tan cheeks...
Accompanying him were her friends: Sam Querrey, John Isner, and Andy Roddick whom were all pointing and laughing...
The tears that had been waiting finally ran down her cheeks...
"You suck!" Casey heard someone yell from the third tier of seats. Casey covered her head once more with her towel and sulked. She didn't know how she had let this happen--she had practiced for months.
She replayed match point in her head:
"Advantage, Sharapova," the chair umpire's heavily accented voice bounced off the concrete walls of the stadium and back into Casey's skull. She knew she couldn't lose this next point; she had to find a way to fight back like she had so many other times...
It was Casey's serve. The moon hung heavy over the court, feeling as if it were peering over her shoulder just waiting for her to screw up. The silence of the crowd was driving her insane as she bounced the ball once, twice. When she drew her arm back she could feel the weight of every single person's stare as she threw herself into the serve...
It was fast, and bounced high to Sharapova's backhand when it hit the center line of the service box. Casey, who was known for having the third fastest serve on the women's tour was expecting an ace but Sharapova had returned it with ease. Not one over Casey's weapons were having any effect on the Russian...
The return flew over the net and landed in front of Casey. Perfect, she thought as she lined up her forehand...
Casey used her left hand to track the ball, and focused her sight on the small yellow ball and swung...
The ball soared off the strings of her racket and straight into the net...
The laughing returned as Center Court faded in front of Casey's eyes. A few moments passed and the laughing turned into the loud, obnoxious beeping of her alarm clock. Casey awoke tangled in her sheets, sweating, gasping just like she had when she played that final match at the Open.
She sat up in bed bringing her knees to her chest and placed her face into her arms allowing the horrible noise to continue. She had once again relived the tennis match she had played four years ago at the 2006 U.S. Open.
Casey always dreamed it much worse that it had actually been. Neither her brother nor her friends had laughed when it ended. Every spectator was on their feet applauding the terrific match that both players had fought through and even though Sharapova did scream she still showed her appreciation for Casey's effort.
For Casey, being seventeen at the time, it was probably the most devastating thing she'd been through; and ever since that match she never made it past the quarterfinals at the U.S. Open.
Maria Sharapova raised her arms above her head in victory, a triumphant scream escaping through her thin lips as her opponent watched everyone applaud for the Russian...
They were all screaming her name...
Sharapova's opponent, Casey Savage sunk sullenly into her chair by the side of the court, the tournament towel draped over her head in shame. The hard, unpleasant feeling of failure was slowly taking over her body and Casey felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes...
A familiar tightness was itching at the back of her throat...
The match was over, the new U.S. Open champion had been decided. Sharapova had won two sets to one (5-7, 7-6, 6-4). Casey had given it her all although some would argue that she gave more than that...
Suddenly she heard laughing and Casey lifted the sweat-soaked towel away from her head and searched the stands. The laughter was beginning to echo and then she spotted her older brother, Carter grasping his sides with tears streaking down his tan cheeks...
Accompanying him were her friends: Sam Querrey, John Isner, and Andy Roddick whom were all pointing and laughing...
The tears that had been waiting finally ran down her cheeks...
"You suck!" Casey heard someone yell from the third tier of seats. Casey covered her head once more with her towel and sulked. She didn't know how she had let this happen--she had practiced for months.
She replayed match point in her head:
"Advantage, Sharapova," the chair umpire's heavily accented voice bounced off the concrete walls of the stadium and back into Casey's skull. She knew she couldn't lose this next point; she had to find a way to fight back like she had so many other times...
It was Casey's serve. The moon hung heavy over the court, feeling as if it were peering over her shoulder just waiting for her to screw up. The silence of the crowd was driving her insane as she bounced the ball once, twice. When she drew her arm back she could feel the weight of every single person's stare as she threw herself into the serve...
It was fast, and bounced high to Sharapova's backhand when it hit the center line of the service box. Casey, who was known for having the third fastest serve on the women's tour was expecting an ace but Sharapova had returned it with ease. Not one over Casey's weapons were having any effect on the Russian...
The return flew over the net and landed in front of Casey. Perfect, she thought as she lined up her forehand...
Casey used her left hand to track the ball, and focused her sight on the small yellow ball and swung...
The ball soared off the strings of her racket and straight into the net...
The laughing returned as Center Court faded in front of Casey's eyes. A few moments passed and the laughing turned into the loud, obnoxious beeping of her alarm clock. Casey awoke tangled in her sheets, sweating, gasping just like she had when she played that final match at the Open.
She sat up in bed bringing her knees to her chest and placed her face into her arms allowing the horrible noise to continue. She had once again relived the tennis match she had played four years ago at the 2006 U.S. Open.
Casey always dreamed it much worse that it had actually been. Neither her brother nor her friends had laughed when it ended. Every spectator was on their feet applauding the terrific match that both players had fought through and even though Sharapova did scream she still showed her appreciation for Casey's effort.
For Casey, being seventeen at the time, it was probably the most devastating thing she'd been through; and ever since that match she never made it past the quarterfinals at the U.S. Open.