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I have the opportunity to achieve my dream.
This has always been the endgame and even though I’ve gotten to the semi-final, I haven’t really felt the magnitude of what this means.
It was just match after match till I became numb to the feeling of winning, just checking off the boxes until I got here.
My gaze goes over to my box in the crowd. I see Sofia. She’s crying too. This is her moment as much as it is mine. I’m reminded of the countless hours spent on the practice courts, the sacrifices made, and the relentless pursuit of my dreams.
The tears that flow down my cheeks embody the culmination of all those sacrifices, the sheer emotional release of years of hard work and dedication.
Yes, I got to the final of Roland-Garros, but this is the Mecca of tennis. Winning Wimbledon is the highest honor. I’ve never gotten past round three and here I am in the final.
Amidst the cries of the crowd, I let out a primal scream of pure ecstasy. It’s an uninhibited expression of jubilation, a testament to the indescribable joy I feel coursing through every fiber of my being.
The sound of my voice merges with the deafening cheers, creating a crescendo of elation that fills the Wimbledon air.
As I rise to my feet, my legs tremble with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. I raise my hands to my face, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.
I wipe the tears away, only for new tears to take their place.
The knowledge sinks in—Wimbledon’s final is waiting for me.
I take a deep breath, savoring the sweet victory as the crowd’s roar persists, reminding me that I’m not alone on this journey. I embrace the enormity of the moment, etching every detail into my memory.
The tears continue to flow, but now they carry a sense of pressure.
Even though I’m happy, I’m also petrified. I’ve been in the same position before, just at a different grand slam and it slipped from underneath me.
I’m competing against Letty; I’ve never beaten her.
But if I’m going to beat her anywhere, then it’s going to be here.
I’m so close, just one more obstacle to jump.
Just like Billie Jean King said,‘Pressure is a privilege.’
Chapter69
Violetta
Cameras are flashing around me as I sit here utterly exposed and vulnerable to the media
storm surging around me.
They are going to have fun with this one, aren’t they?
History is repeating itself for the third time this year and I can’t help but feel like they are hoping I lose.
But who doesn’t like a good underdog?
I don’t do many press conferences since I hate talking to people who just want me to get annoyed with their questions. They always want me to say something that might be seen as disrespectful just for more views or clicks on their article.
I don’t stoop that low and I won’t now.
I’m doing this press conference because I’ve accomplished something, and I want to make a comment on it.
“Good afternoon, everybody. Welcome to the press conference for Violetta Luna. Please remember to raise your hand before asking your question. Um, Violetta, just tell us how you’re feeling right now.”
I notice the moderator’s voice is calming. That’s the only thing I can think of when she says those words to me.
