She was fighting, and losing. Spencer had used almost all her reserve of energy to take the first set to a tie breaker. The ultimate loss had taken its emotional toll. Dementieva was a crafty enough player to sense her opponent’s flagging stamina and capitalized on it. Precision was nothing without strength. Spencer’s strength was ebbing quickly. The noise played havoc with her concentration. Already playing below par, she needed the sound of the ball hitting the racket. Engines drowned it out, denying her the sense of hearing. On the brittle grass the ball jumped, skidded and stopped. Top speed was necessary, and she didn’t have it.

Unable to prevent herself, Ashley came to the edge of the tunnel to watch. Immediately she could see that Aiden hadn’t exaggerated. Spencer was too pale, too slow. Instinctively she took a step forward. Restraining herself was more difficult than going on, but she stopped, cursing Spencer even as she cursed herself. Spencer had made her own choice. Spencer herself had cut off any right Ashley had to influence her. From where she stood she could hear Spencer’s labored breathing, see the strain Spencer fought to keep from her face. At the twinge of fresh pain Ashley turned away from the court.

With a blind determination that was more nerves than power, Spencer had taken the second set to three-all. Her face shone with sweat. Weakened, Spencer knew that she would have to find a hole in Dementieva’s game soon, and have the wit and stamina to exploit it. Grit was a weapon, but not weapon enough against speed, precision and cunning.

At double break point Spencer prepared to serve again. If she could pull this one out, she’d have a chance. If Dementieva broke her serve, the match was as good as over. Concentrate, concentrate, she ordered herself as she gave the ball a few testing bounces. She counted each one, trying to calm herself. Ashley’s furious, accusing words hammered in her brain. Her face, enraged and stricken, floated in front of her eyes. Tossing the ball, Spencer drove at it with her racket.

"Fault."

She shut her eyes and cursed. Control, she ordered herself. If she lost control now, she lost everything. As she took an extra moment, the crowd began to hum in speculation.