“What’s next?” Gwen asks.
But for the briefest of moments, I wonder what my mother would think of me today. If she would be proud of what I’m attempting to do. I don’t know the answer. And I realize just how long it’s been since I asked myself that question.
Ali knocks on the door and comes in. “Okay! This is exciting. I have our answers.”
“Tell me,” I say.
“Because you are a former WTA number one and have won all four Slams previously, you are guaranteed a wild card at any WTA or ITF event you choose.”
“Yeah!” I say. “Now we’re talkin’.”
“You can pick and choose what tournaments you want to enter. We have to file some paperwork, but it will be no problem to get you in as a wild card draw for the Australian Open in three months.”
“Will I be seeded?”
“No,” Ali says. “All your past points are irrelevant now. You don’t have any current ranking to seed from. Until you start winning,” she adds, grinning.
I see a flash of myself, three months from now, standing on that green hard court in Melbourne, looking across the net at my opponent, whoever she is going to be. I can almost hear the crowd, can practically feel the sweltering tense air.
It has been such a long time since I’ve played a tournament. And it’s been almost three times as long as that since I’ve played one unseeded.
It sends a tiny thrill through me, like I’m a teenager again, staring up at a mountain I have yet to scale, each match a step toward the top. It has been so long since I have felt the perfect ache of climbing.
The following statement was released today by Carrie Soto through her agent, Gwen Davis.
For Immediate Release 10/11/1994
CARRIE SOTO IS BACK
I am coming out of retirement for the 1995 season to play all four Grand Slam events—the Australian Open in January, the French Open in May, Wimbledon in June, and the US Open in August—in order to reclaim the world record for most Grand Slam singles titles.
I congratulate Nicki Chan on her accomplishments in women’s tennis. But her domination is over.
I’m back.
Soto to Come Out of Retirement to Take On Chan
Los Angeles Daily
October 12, 1994
Women’s tennis great Carrie Soto, 37, once known as “the Battle Axe,” has announced her intention to come out of retirement in order to defend her Grand Slam singles title record. Force of nature Nicki Chan, 30, has been the leading figure in women’s tennis since 1989 when Soto retired, holding a record of twenty Slam titles. Chan, often called “the Beast” by tennis fans, tied that record last month.
Soto has long been a polarizing figure in women’s tennis, known for her sharp tongue and her ruthless strategies toward other players on the court. If the former champion were to win a Slam, she would be the oldest woman to do so in the history of the game.
“I welcome her return,” Nicki Chan said in a press conference yesterday, after being informed of Soto’s decision. “I’ve looked up to Carrie Soto my entire career. It would be an honor to play her once more.”
When asked if she thought Carrie Soto could beat her, Chan appeared amused. “Well,” she said. “We are going to see, aren’t we?”
Transcript
SportsNews Network
Wild Sports with Bill Evans
October 12, 1994
Bill Evans: So, we have some drama coming out of the women’s tennis world. Jimmy, what is your take here? Carrie “the Battle Axe” Soto is back? What do we make of this?
Jimmy Wallace, editor of SportsSunday: It’s certainly unexpected.
Evans: “Unexpected” seems like an understatement. Carrie Soto ended her career after a pretty sharp drop in the rankings back in the late eighties.
Wallace: Yes, she did. Though I think she would argue that’s on account of her knee. Which has since healed.
Evans: But she’s been gone—what—five years now? It’s been a big five years in women’s tennis.
Wallace: Certainly. And over that period of time we have seen the rise of Nicki Chan.
Evans: And a new type of tennis.
Wallace: Yes, I think that’s true. Women’s tennis has shifted away from serve and volley. We are seeing more baseliners, more power players. Soto was always a dancer—agile, graceful on the court. Chan is a brute—she’s a boxer. She’s tough.
Evans: Can the Battle Axe still compete in today’s game?
Wallace: We will see. There’s something else here that I think it’s important to note.
Evans: And what is that?
Wallace: Soto isn’t just playing an old style—she herself is old. No woman has won a Slam in her late thirties.
Evans: And here is another question: Do we even want her back? She’s not the most…well-liked, is she?
Wallace: Well, they don’t call her the Battle Axe for nothing.
Evans: So maybe she shows up in Melbourne and gets sent home quickly. And then she does the elegant thing and bows out again.
Wallace: I think that’s very possible, Bill. Time will tell. Otherwise, Chan will have to put her down.
My father has been reading too many sports pages and watching too much news.
“Absurd,” my father says, sitting at my breakfast table. “The way they are implying you cannot win.”
I sip my smoothie. The coverage bothers me, but I know there’s nothing I can do about it. When I decided to play professional tennis, I apparently signed a contract to let people talk shit about me for the rest of my life.
My father continues to read the paper. “I just think they should remember who they are talking about,” he says.
“My sentiments exactly,” I say.
He turns toward the TV, which is on mute. “Wait,” he says, getting up and turning the volume up. “They are talking about you on Morning in America.”
I look over at the kitchen TV.
News anchor Greg Phillips speaks directly into the camera with an image of me at Wimbledon over his shoulder. I cannot stand him. He’s interviewed me at least a dozen times over the years and constantly asks about my skirt lengths. We once got into a spat, back in the eighties, when he said I held the record for most Grand Slam trophies in women’s tennis. I corrected him on air, pointing out that I held the most trophies out of anyone in tennis.
“You thought she was gone!” Greg says. “But American tennis champion Carrie Soto is returning to women’s tennis in order to defend her Grand Slam record. Soto has been retired for over five years and, at the age of thirty-seven, will be the oldest tennis player on the circuit. Still, she has made the bold claim that she will win at least one tournament this year, a feat that, should she do it, would make her the first woman in the Open Era to win a Slam title in her late thirties. Regardless of how things go for her, it should prove for a wild year in women’s tennis now that the Battle Axe is back!”
I move to turn off the TV as Greg announces a commercial break and the show’s logo appears. Then, just as my hand touches the dial, we can hear Greg’s voice, plain as day, saying to someone, “C’mon, ‘The Battle Axe is back’? We should just say, ‘The bitch is back.’ That’s what she is.”
Then comes the sound of a woman gasping, jarring feedback, and dead air as the station cuts away from the hot mic. A second later, the screen changes to a commercial of a teenage boy riffling through the refrigerator, pushing away the “purple stuff” because he wants Sunny D.
I turn off the TV and look at my dad. He looks right back at me, his eyes wide.
Finally, I speak. “Did Greg Phillips just call me a bitch on national television?”
My father’s face is flushed; his neck is growing redder by the second.
“He did, didn’t he?” I say, frozen in place. “He just called me a bitch.”
My father gets up from the table and throws away the newspaper.
“I mean…” I say. “I knew they thought it. I just…I didn’t think they said it out loud.”