The Match of a Lifetime

Word Count: 1856

         If they hadn't been watching before, they were watching now.  The cheers that filled the air couldn't be compared to those of Wimbledon, but were enough to pump me full of energy.  The energy coursed through my body.  I stared across the net at my opponent, my rival, Budd Dwelly.  He sneered at me.  I didn't respond.  I stayed focused.

         It was a tennis match that had been a long time coming.  Budd was the number one tennis player in Hasterton Middle School, a school that housed the number one middle school tennis team in the state.  And when you were the number one tennis player in the number one middle school for tennis, you developed a big head.  And that's exactly what Budd had, a big head.  And me?  I was the one who always tried hard, but could never be as good as him.  I was Chris Louder, Hasterton Middle School's number two tennis player.  Today it was about to change.

         He had made fun of my friend Frank for the last time.  I had warned him not to, and he didn't listen.  Where do you hurt a bully?  Not on his face, but on his pride.  I challenged him to a tennis match soon after.  The stakes were his number one spot if I won, and if I lost I had to quit the team.

         Now here we were.  I had won the first set with much difficulty.  We were on serve all the way until the last game where I broke him to win 7-5.  I started off the second set with a bang, but my momentum quickly tapered off, and I soon found myself in a giant hole.  I lost the second set 6-2.

         That's when the real match began.  Both of us were pumped full of adrenaline, hitting shot after shot, catching line after line.  He won his service games with ease, and I won my service games with less ease until finally, there we were, six games all in the final set.  It all came down to a third set tiebreak.

         I looked around triumphantly.  Dozens of students were screaming and hooting, pressing their faces up against the tall metal fence that separated the players from the spectators.

         I was a winner for getting this far.  The old me would be tired.  The old me would be nervous.  The old me would have lost by now.  I was not that boy anymore.  I had been training harder for the past month.  I had been lifting more weights, running farther, and playing more than I ever had before.  It had paid off.  I felt as fresh as ever.  However, I couldn't let my guard down.  I knew my opponent felt fresh as well.

         My serve would start the tiebreak.  The cheering slowly quieted until the air was thick with silence.  I bounced the ball a couple of times, tossed it in the air, and then threw my body into the serve.  My ball was a bullet down the line, but Budd was there to return with a backhand.  I hit my own backhand.  The impact sending a jarring vibration through my body.  But I was strong.  My arm was stiff.  My shot landed in then skidded out wide.  Budd couldn't get there in time.  It was my point.  0-1, Budd's serve.

         His serve was the reason he was the top seed.  If my serve was fast, his was a rocket.  This time he went right at me.  I barely got out of the way, but in doing so I was also able to get my racket on the ball.  It popped into the air over the net, but Budd was there.  He slammed the ball and the bounce sent it flying twenty feet above my head.  1-1, Budd's serve.

         Just get it into play, I told myself.  If I got the ball back deep and into play I knew I would have the advantage.  Budd was all brute.  I was crafty, smart, and quick.  If I could just get past his serve I could win this match.  Budd served.  Ace.  1-2, my serve.

         I again did my best to drown out the surrounding noise.  Focus, I told myself.  You need to focus.  I took a deep breath in.  My heart was racing.  I bounced the ball a few times, tossed it in the air, and threw my body into the serve.  The speed of his return caught me off guard.  I lunged to get the ball.  My arm stretched further than I thought it could.  I made contact with the ball, but I was off the court.  Budd had a big advantage.  He pounded a forehand down the line.  I breathed a sigh of relief when it landed out by two inches.  2-2, my serve.

         Budd smiled.  There was no doubt in his mind that he would win.  It was time I put some doubt in his mind.  My heart felt like it would leap out of my chest, yet it wasn't nerves.  It was excitement.  This time I would do it.  This time I would win.  I served as hard as I could.  He returned it hard.  It caught the back corner line and flew past me.  My heart sank.  3-2, his serve.

         My situation had changed drastically.  I now had to win two points on his serve, even though I've been struggling in this last set to get even one.

         “Ready to give up Chris?” Budd asked from the other side of the court.  I glared back as he got ready to serve.  Ace.  4-2, his serve.

         It was time for us to switch sides on the court.  He let out a loud laugh as he passed me.  It boiled my blood.  I needed to do something.  Things were spinning out of control.  I was letting him get to me.  The consequences of what would happen if I lost this match began seeping into my brain.  I became nervous.  I became scared.  I was starting to feel tired.  I knew it was all mental.  I knew I felt this way because the realization of what was going on was starting to sink in.

         He served.  Ace.  2-5, my serve.

         I slowed down.  I closed my eyes.  I could not let him win another point.  If I did, I knew there was no way I could win three points on his serve.  It needed to end and it needed to end now.  I gradually got my wits about me.  The pressure was on me, and I was letting it get to me.  I again drowned out everything around me.  There was just me, Budd, and the court.  The only sounds I could hear were that of my own beating heart.  Then the sounds coming from the court.

         I bounced the ball, tossed it in the air, and threw my body into the serve.  The return was weak.  I took advantage of the short return and ran forward.  I pummeled the short ball.  He got to it, barely, and popped it high in the air.  It wasn't good enough.  I ended the point with an overhead.  3-5, my serve.

         The pressure was still on me, but after the last point, I felt less of it.  I again got myself in check mentally before I served.  I could not lose this point.  I would not lose this point.

         I bounced the ball, tossed it in the air, and threw my body into the serve.  He put a little too much into the return, and the ball went sailing a foot long.  5-4, his serve.

         I breathed a sigh of relief, but quickly remembered that he was still winning.  All he needed was the next two points to beat me and both points would be on his serve.  I readied myself for his serve.  I knew it would come at me and come at me fast.  His serve was a bullet down the line.  Somehow I got my racket on it and the ball was returned deep on his side of the court.  He countered with a powerful forehand, and I replied with a powerful forehand of my own.  When I received his next shot I decided to change things up.  It was obvious that Budd wanted to play a power game, but I was smarter.  I would play my own game.  My shot quickly turned into a slice drop shot which barely crossed the net.  I watched Budd sprint towards the net, but he arrived too late.  The ball bounced for the second time the moment he reached it.  He scowled at me and returned to the baseline.  5-5, his serve.

         I then played the best point of my life.  His serve was slower than normal, and it was obvious to me he was feeling fatigued.  I returned his serve hard and deep.  He returned it hard down the middle, but I was there to hit a forehand.  He responded with a forehand of his own down the line.  I sliced a backhand cross-court.  And the point continued.  For every shot I made he responded with a better one.  For every better shot he made, I responded with an even better one.  Back and forth the ball went.  The only sounds were that of my heart, the ball bouncing off the ground and our rackets, and our feet hitting the pavement.

         It became a ten shot rally.

         Fight!

         It became a fifteen shot rally.

         Fight!

         Then quickly turned into a twenty shot rally.

         Fight!

         Then my heart skipped a beat.  One of his shots hit the net and popped straight up.  The world around me moved in slow motion.  Though both of us should have been running towards the net, we each stood at the baseline dumbfounded, praying that it would land in the other person's court.  The ball hit the top of the tape again and dropped on Budd's side.  The crowd was absolutely silent.  No one could believe what was happening.  I had a match point against Budd Dwelly.  6-5, my serve.

         Budd was tired.  It was obvious.  He was covered in sweat.  He kept rubbing his eyes.  He was slow in getting ready for my serve.  When my serve, whizzed past him, I should have seen it coming.  I should have known I'd ace him.  I should have known he had nothing left in his tank.  But when I won that final point and the crowd erupted, I was in shock.  I couldn't believe what I had done.
         
         All my hard work had paid off.  I was now the number one seed at Hasterton Middle School.  Budd quickly exited the court without saying anything to anyone.  I sat down on a nearby bench and let everyone approach me.  The congratulations they gave me lasted for over an hour.  There were grins on everyone's faces, but they couldn't compare to the grin on mine.

         Once the last person left I finally stood up.  My legs were wobbly.  My entire body was tired.  I sat back down and rest for another hour before packing my things and going home.

*          *          *

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