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Second set. Seventh game. At the baseline Ashley crouched, ready to spring for Sharapova’s serve. The air was heavy, the sky thick with rain-threatening clouds so that the light was dreary. Ashley didn’t notice. She didn’t notice the stadium full of people, some dangling through the railing, some hanging from the Scoreboard. She didn’t notice the shouts and whistles that were either for or against her.

Tennis was a game of the individual. That was what had drawn her to it. There was no one to blame for a loss, no one to praise for a win but yourself. It was a game of motion and emotion, both of which she excelled in.

She had looked forward to meeting Sharapova in the semis. The Russian played a hot, passionate game full of dramatic gestures, furious mutters and pizzazz. There were perhaps five competitors Ashley fully respected, Maria Sharapova being one of them.

Wanting to win was only a step below wanting a challenge. A fight. She’d grown up scrapping. Now the racket was merely an extension of her arm. The match was a bout. The bout was one on one. It had never—would never—be only a game.

The Russian was a set up, with her momentum still flowing. Ashley’s only thought at the moment was to break her serve and even the match. Thus far she had spotted no weaknesses in her opponent’s game. Like a boxer, she watched for the opening.

She heard the sound of the ball hitting the sweet spot of the racket before it rocketed toward her. It landed deep in the corner of the service court, beautifully placed. Ashley’s mind and body moved as one as she sprang for the return. Defense, offense, strategy all had to be formulated in a fraction of a second. Strength had to be balanced with form. Both women sprinted over the court for the rally, faces glowing with concentration and sweat. The roar of the crowd rose to meet the distant thunder.

Thus far, the ratio had been nearly ten to one in favor of ground strokes. Ashley decided to alter the pace and go with power. Using a vicious left-to-right slice, she shook Sharapova’s balance. Ashley blasted away at the attempted passing shot, barely shortening her backswing. Sharapova couldn’t reach the backhand volley, let alone return it. Love-fifteen.