Carrie Soto Is Back(75)

She must be messing with me. Surely she knows she’s just described my greatest fear. But no, I can tell from the look on her face that she sincerely thinks that I’m that brave, that I am doing this because I am okay with losing big. Not because I am terrified of losing at all.

And it stuns me silent, for a moment: just how vast the gap is between who I am and how people see me.

I am so much smaller than the Carrie Soto in Gwen’s head.





SOTO VS. DRYER


    Wimbledon 1995


   First Round


As I step out onto the court, I feel the sun blazing down. I hear the commotion of the crowds. I look up to see stands full of well-dressed Brits with large hats and fascinators. I am flooded with the comfort of the scent of Wimbledon—fresh-cut grass and Pimm’s and lemon.

I am home.

I bounce on my toes, feeling the grass and dirt beneath my white Break Points.

I look across the court at Cami Dryer. She is young, not even eighteen.

I smile and shake her hand as we come together at the net.

She is adorable—all perky and eager. She shakes my hand with an excitement that reminds me of myself when I was younger. And I feel this sudden contentment deep within my gut.

You could not pay me enough money to go back to being seventeen. When I was seventeen, my talent was all potential and no proof. The world was a giant set of unknowns, barely any past to pull from.

I am so grateful, right now, for every match and every win and every loss and every lesson that I have behind me. It feels so good, right now, to be thirty-seven years old. To have figured at least some things out.

To know the ground underneath my feet.

Poor Cami Dryer doesn’t know what is about to hit her. She wins the coin toss and calls first serve. I get into position and take her in two sets.





Transcript


    BBC Sports Radio London


    SportsWorld with Brian Cress


And in women’s tennis it’s been nearly a fortnight of stunning wins and crushing losses.

London’s own Nicki Chan has sailed through each of her matches. As have favorites such as Ingrid Cortez and Natasha Antonovich. Meanwhile, it’s been a hair-raiser for firebrand Carrie Soto. She has clawed her way through the five rounds—beating Brits Cami Dryer and Lucy Cameron in the first and second, Swede Celine Nystrom in the third, and the Baltimore Baseliner Carla Perez in the round of sixteen.

She’s now defeated Italian Odette Moretti in the quarterfinals.

Bringing her to the semifinals, where she and Russian phenom Natasha Antonovich will go head-to-head.





Transcript


    SportsHour USA


    The Mark Hadley Show




Mark Hadley: And wow, Carrie Soto.

Gloria Jones: Carrie is headed to the semifinals! At this point, the fact that she is still a force of nature is undeniable. Briggs, call her whatever you want, but you have to admit this is fun to watch. This is a player giving audiences a rip-roaring good show as she fights her way to the finish.

Briggs Lakin: Look, I am the first to admit when I’m wrong. I said earlier this year that Carrie wouldn’t make it to Wimbledon, and I stand corrected. But in hindsight, it seems obvious, doesn’t it? Of course this was Soto’s move. Of course Wimbledon would be her only real shot at a title this year.

Hadley: And can she do it? Gloria?

Jones: I think it’s going to be hard. She now has the three best players in the game ahead of her. She will go up against Antonovich next. This is Carrie’s best surface, but this is also Antonovich’s.

Lakin: In some ways, it’s an interesting match, these two. Natasha Antonovich, her style of play—the quick pace, the great volleys—owes a lot to Carrie Soto. We saw that back in Paris. I said, “Natasha is the new Carrie.” It’s almost as if this is Carrie’s chance to play her old self on her best surface.

Jones: If Carrie wants to prove there is only one Carrie Soto, well, this is the chance.





I am sitting in the locker room with my eyes closed, listening to the waves of my breath. I pick up my cellphone and dial my dad.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Don’t think about strategy now,” he says. “The time for that is over. This is the time for instinct.”

“I know,” I say, taking in a deep breath. “I know.”

“You are prepared. Trust your preparation.”

“I know.”

“Don’t listen to Self 1,” he says.

I laugh without opening my eyes. “You’ve been listening to Bowe.”

“Be Self 2.”

“Don’t think,” I say. “Just act.”

“Don’t think,” my father says. “Just play.”





SOTO VS. ANTONOVICH


    Wimbledon 1995


   Semifinals


Natasha Antonovich hovers on the other side of the court, adjusting her visor. She’s steady now, both feet firmly on the baseline. But we both know the second she wants to, she’ll go flying across this court.

She hits a kick serve. It bounces high, and I hit it back over the net. I watch her dive, but it bounces too low for her to get it.