Charlie filled her lungs with air and exhaled slowly, feeling her shoulders lower and her gaze steady. She returned Natalya’s serve perfectly and then followed it up with a forehand and a backhand. Both were flawlessly executed, sailing hard and fast over the net, landing exactly where she had intended them. Quickly she worked her way to the net, where she felt confident, and hit an excellent volley deep to Natalya’s backhand. For the briefest moment Charlie stopped to admire her own shot – it had grazed the line and would be very difficult for Natalya to return well – but in a split second Natalya’s return came flying over the net with a surprising amount of power, and Charlie lunged toward the ball. Her racket never even connected with it. She turned around just in time to see it land behind her, an inch or two within the baseline, an impressive and definitive winner.
Natalya fell to the ground. The umpire announced the win, Ms Ivanov’s first at Wimbledon, to thunderous applause. The entirety of Centre Court rose to its feet, cheering both women in what had to be one of the most exciting finals in Wimbledon history. The cameras on the sidelines clicked madly. The various officials began preparing the winner presentation. As Charlie glanced to the player box, she caught Natalya’s friends embracing. Jake and her father looked crestfallen. Todd raked his hands through his hair. Marco bowed to both girls. Piper and Ronin stood and clapped politely. Only Dan seemed to be proud of her and willing Charlie to look at him. When she caught his eye, he pointed at her and mouthed, ‘You played a great match.’
A surge of realization followed, almost as though Charlie hadn’t understood until right then: it was over and she had lost. The disappointment that followed was swift and stabbing, and yet, she could walk off Centre Court with her shoulders back and her head held high. She had played honestly. She had played with integrity. It hadn’t been good enough to win a Slam – at least not yet. But it was good enough to give the finger to the bedazzled sports bras and nasty opponents and cheating boyfriends and abusive coaches and all the other noise that she’d allowed to seep in and poison her for so long. It was good enough to end all that.
Charlie suffered through the post-match interviews with grace and dignity, pausing often to thank her family and her team and to congratulate Natalya on a tournament won well. She raised her runner-up trophy high, waved her thanks to the crowd, and left the court quickly so Natalya could enjoy her moment. Charlie had given 100 percent, and although she’d made some errors with the double faults – and who didn’t have a couple of errors in a record-setting final? – she had performed to the very best of her ability. Natalya had simply played better. She deserved to win. It didn’t make Charlie’s disappointment any less acute, but this time it wasn’t commingled with regret or anger or second-guessing herself. Whether it was the adrenaline or the relief or the coursing endorphins, Charlie felt no pain on the walk toward the locker room – no muscle aches, no soreness, no lingering discomfort from her previous injuries. It would all come, of course. You didn’t set the time record for a final match at Wimbledon and not pay the price, but at that moment she felt oddly at peace: she had competed at the very highest level, had given the match everything she had, and hadn’t resorted to disgusting behavior to get an edge. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, Charlie had nothing to apologize for.
Perhaps it was the commotion in the Hallway of Champions, or the exhaustion beginning to settle into her body, but Charlie almost didn’t notice the feeling of a large hand around her upper arm until it tightened its grip so hard she nearly yelped in pain. Alarmed, she whipped around to see Todd glaring at her with a look of pure hatred.
‘What the fuck did you do out there?’ he said in a whisper- scream so loud the entire area went instantly silent.
Charlie was so shocked she didn’t say a word.
‘Do you hear me? Hello? Hello, Wimbledon loser? Want to explain how anyone in her right mind could possibly throw away an entire set by double-faulting? Please, give me your brilliant analysis, because I am at a total fucking loss.’
Any of the officials or line judges or coaches or journalists who hadn’t heard the first part of Todd’s tantrum had noticed him now. The hallway was so absolutely silent that Charlie wondered if the crowd back on the court could hear him. Still, she was so surprised she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even ask him to let go of her arm, which he was squeezing uncomfortably hard.
‘Not one but two double faults! What, were you smoking weed again before this match? Out screwing around with your boyfriend? What was it, Silver? Because, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the fuck happened out there.’
It was the sound of Dan’s voice that finally shook her out of her shock.
‘Let go of her arm,’ Dan growled, quietly enough that only she and Todd could hear, but with an edge that caused them both to look up.
‘Get the fuck out of here, I’m not talking to you,’ Todd said. He dropped Charlie’s arm but moved his face even closer to hers.
Dan was on him in a flash, his own hand clamped over Todd’s shoulder. Somewhere behind her, Charlie could hear others gasp as they drew the same conclusion: there was going to be a fight. Quickly, Charlie turned to Dan and gave him a look: Thank you, but I’ve got this. Dan hesitated for a moment but then moved a few steps back.
‘I was going to do this in private, but since it seems like you prefer putting on shows, let’s get this over with now. Todd, thank you for your time and expertise, but I will no longer be needing your services.’
For a split second Todd froze, his hands suspended in midair, his mouth hanging open. Then he licked his lips once, twice, three times and snarled, ‘Yeah, right. You’re lucky I ever agreed to coach you in the first place. You can’t fire me.’
‘I just did,’ Charlie said.
‘Get showered and meet me in the lounge. You and I have a lot to talk about. First on the list is your shitty attitude.’
‘I tried to be polite, but I’m not sure how else to say it. You’re fired. Finished. You and I have nothing left to say to each other. Not now, and not ever.’ Charlie turned to the small crowd of people who had gathered to listen while pretending not to listen. ‘Feel free to spread the word: I fired Todd Feltner. And I loved every minute of it.’
22
grovel, plead, beg, and bribe