Carrie Soto Is Back(38)

As the stadium cheers, I catch a glimpse of Dvo?áková’s face. Her jaw is tight, her head down. She looks completely blindsided by the way I have pummeled her. A twenty-two-year-old ranked in the bottom fifty, not a Slam title to her name, and she assumed she’d take me.

“Who’s next?” I call out, racket in hand. I’m not sure anybody in the stands hears me, but it feels so good to scream into the roar of the crowd.

When I walk off the court, my father is standing there in the tunnel, waiting for me.

“?Excelente!” he says. “Absolute perfection. You warrior, you king.”

“The first of many,” I say to him.

My father smiles but says nothing. His smile grows bigger as he turns and guides me toward the locker room, and soon he’s laughing.

“What?” I ask him. “What are you thinking right now?”

“Nothing,” he says. “It’s just that…this is the part I missed the most. Me and you, in the tunnel.”





In my next match, I beat an American I’ve never met before, a woman named Josie Flores, in straight sets. When I cinch the match with an ace, I jump into the air and spin. I bounce on both my feet, side to side, and throw my hands up.

In the post-match press conference, I am still jumpy, still pumped. My victories, no matter how early in the tournament, are undeniable. And I feel a near absence of worry.

Months of preparing, months of lying awake at night scared. But now the test is here, and I am killing it.

The first few questions are the usual softballs. “How does it feel to be back on the court?” “Did you expect to win your first two matches?” “What is it like to have your father coaching you again?”

I answer honestly. “It feels great to be back out there.” “I expect to win every single match I play.” “My father and I are both thankful for this opportunity to work together again.”

A man in a sweater-vest speaks up. “Carrie, what do you say in response to players like Ingrid Cortez?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“This morning in her post-match, she said that you should have stayed on the bench.”

This was news to me. I’d seen Ingrid around in the locker rooms—tall and humorless, with white-blond hair and wide shoulders and a lightness in her step that only a teenager can have—but I’d not spoken much to her.

“She says that she had not heard of you, before you came out of retirement,” he adds.

“That’s ridiculous—everyone in tennis has heard of me. Half of the world has heard of me.” I lean away from the microphone, finished speaking. But then I lean back into it. “She can trash-talk however she wants, but let me say this: I’m grateful for every single woman who stood here before me. You don’t see me going around asking who the Original 9 are, do you? No, because I know what I owe them. What about Althea Gibson and Alice Marble and Helen Wills? Suzanne Lenglen? Maria Bueno? I know whose shoulders I’m standing on. If Cortez doesn’t, that’s on her.”

“But,” he follows up, “is there any truth to her statement? Some people are saying this comeback is a stunt. What’s your response?”

I can hear the shuffling of papers and the readjusting of microphones. But all eyes remain on me.

“I’ve proven so far that my game is outstanding,” I say. “So everyone can whine and moan all they want about me being here, but I’ve earned the right.”

Everyone’s hands go up. There is a woman, young and focused, standing on the edge of the press corps.

“How are you feeling about the challenge ahead?” she says. “Your return may be controversial, but there are many spectators out there thrilled to see you playing again. It is expected you’ll be playing Carla Perez in the next round. She seems to be the first player who could match your power. So…how bullish should your fans feel about seeing this run continue? How confident do you feel?”

I smile wide, and it grows into a laugh. “I’m gonna crush Carla Perez and anyone else I play on my way to the final. I am going to hold their beating hearts in my hand.”

For a fraction of a second, none of the reporters in the room know quite what to say.

God, I’ve missed this.





Transcript


    SportsHour USA


    The Mark Hadley Show




Mark Hadley: …and Bowe Huntley appears to be doing better than anticipated. He annihilated Greg Simmons in the first round and even held up against Wash Lomal.

Briggs Lakin: Which is no easy feat, given that coach Peter Gardner left Huntley to work with Lomal. But Huntley came out the victor.

Hadley: Turning to the women’s matches, Nicki Chan is sailing through, no surprise. Though we are seeing some pressure on that ankle.

Gloria Jones: She’s an intense player. Intense players are prone to injury, we know that. But Nicki seems to have a handle on it.

Hadley: Natasha Antonovich meeting no resistance yet either. Let’s talk about Carrie Soto. Some surprises there. Gloria, thoughts? You played her back in the day, did you not?

Jones: I did, Mark. And look, what can be said about Carrie during this tournament except that she’s blowing us all away?