With one shot, Gawain turned the situation around.
With one shot, Djokovic had the upper hand.
The fierce collision of back and forth and bloody bayonets produced an incredible chemical reaction.
and!
This was already the tenth game of the deciding set. After more than four hours of fierce confrontation, the two players still put in such top-notch and magical performances.
It's so exciting that it explodes your brain, as if thousands of horses are galloping through your head.
Then.
In a hurry, Gao Wen also dribbled the ball.
I pulled the ball with my forehand, trying to wrap the tennis ball and push it into the deep area, but——
Oops!
First of all, isn't it like showing off one's skills in front of Guan Gong to play the ball in front of Djokovic? Obviously, the quality of Gao Wen's ball-playing cannot be compared with that of his opponent.
Secondly, Djokovic knew the texture of the ball very well. The moment he noticed Gawain's ball, he reacted reflexively.
Push off the ground, step forward, and cut to the baseline.
Without warning, without planning, Djokovic came to the net with an unmistakable improvisation that upended the situation.
Djokovic noticed that Gawain was trying to slow down the tempo and rearrange his position, but he had already built up enough of an advantage and naturally refused to give it up.
So, without hesitation, Djokovic chose to go to the net, caught the high parabola of Gawain's ball, and quickly approached it in a flash.
Without waiting for the tennis ball to hit the ground, he turned sideways and used his backhand to unload the force, apply downward spin, and intercept the ball in mid-air, directly pushing the tennis ball back against the wall.
Short line! Small ball! Huh! Everyone exclaimed.
The rhythm was always changing. First, Djokovic tried to shorten the rhythm, then Gawain tried to shorten the connection, and then Djokovic speeded up again.
The game and the tug of war filled the entire venue with tension. The ups and downs, dramatic changes were comparable to the face-changing in Sichuan Opera, leaving no room for breathing at all.
The tennis ball is flying, rolling up a piece of golden sunshine.
On the other side, Djokovic turned his back to the net, spread his wings like a roc, and completed a graceful volley with a one-handed backhand.
On the other side, Gao Wen made an emergency stop and turn, then started again and again, completing the turn in a chaotic situation.
Push off the ground, start, and rush forward.
tread.
Tap, tap, tap! His chest was heaving, his muscles were burning, and a bloody smell was surging from deep in his throat. He couldn't swallow it or spit it out, and his body felt like it was about to fall apart.
I was clearly running, but I could no longer feel my feet; I continued to push against the ground, but my knees were as soft as noodles and I couldn't straighten them.
This is not the peak of physical strength - that has passed. It is purely the emptiness after the high-intensity confrontation in the final set. The fuel tank is almost empty.
However, Gawain was completely unaware.
With full concentration, single-minded focus, focused eyes, and firm will, he just... ran, relying solely on his willpower to support himself.
I pushed off the ground and sprinted, running faster and faster, but it was still not enough.
Djokovic's force release was excellent. Maybe not perfect, but enough. He cut a short ball and it was obvious that there was not much power on the tennis ball. The rebound height after landing was also limited, which meant that there was not much space left for Gawain to hit the ball.
As he ran and watched, Gao Wen watched the tennis ball bounce off the ground and fall again, just like a door slowly closing.
So close, yet so far away.
Right leg, kick.
Left leg, slide.
Slide.
Gao Wen just slid out like this, his legs split apart, his hands holding the racket stretching forward, and stretching again, to the extreme.
I glanced at Djokovic's position out of the corner of my eye, and the three-dimensional image of the entire court space slowly unfolded in my mind.
Getting closer.
Closer.
Well.
A muffled groan came from deep in his dantian, but at this moment he was so focused that he was completely unaware of it, and the only thing in his sight was the court in front of him.
Closer.
Then, it touched.
The racket was lightly touched and stroked, soft and delicate, like a March breeze blowing on your face, bringing tender green and sunshine. The moist water vapor also lifted your spirits, and the corners of your mouth involuntarily rose slightly.
The tennis ball flew out.
Over the net, continuing to climb, flapping its wings.
On the other side, a figure can be seen leaping high into the air, arms outstretched, racket extended, completely free from the constraints of gravity.
That was Djokovic.
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Huh! Bang... He hit it. Djokovic made a sudden stop and turn for the second time, flying like a swordfish, and miraculously touched the tennis ball.
However, Djokovic no longer had the strength to support himself and was unable to exert any force. He could only stretch out his arms to intercept the ball, relying on the tennis's own reaction force to pull him into flight, and then flew back to the other side of the court. He had lost control of his route, landing point, and arc.
Huh! On the other side of the court, Gawain had already done his splits and had no way to stand up, but he was still focused and not distracted at all.
He raised his racket reflexively, leaned his upper body back to make room, and awkwardly and stiffly used his wrist to smash the ball forward, blocking it as if he was playing badminton.
clang.
Tennis ball hits the wall head-on, encounters a block, and flies backwards.
Before he had time to fly back, he had already returned the same way. In the blink of an eye, the tennis ball had broken through Djokovic's blockade.
Keep flying and embrace the world.
Rustling and booming, millions of eyes are focused on this tennis ball, following it as it flies, lands, takes root, and proudly blooms.
Score--
Belongs to Gawain.
"40:AD".
However, there was no sound at Arthur Ashe Stadium, no sound at all, complete silence, even the breeze and the heat were silent.
No one dared to believe their eyes. What just happened? Looking at the court again, I saw Gawain falling to the ground while doing the splits, Djokovic rolling around like a lazy donkey, and the tennis ball rolling out alone. The orange sunlight was pouring down from the sky and the ground, wrapping everything in front of me with a hazy and gorgeous halo. It was so beautiful that it took my breath away.
Quiet, yet turbulent, like an oil painting.
It was a full second that was slow, as if a century had passed. Then, my brain started to buzz and my heart began to cheer and shout with excitement.
However, reason is completely invisible, the mind is blank, and it is just a ruthless screaming machine. This is the only way to avoid the brain exploding.
One sound, one sound, and another sound.
Whether it is Gawain or Djokovic, they have both burned all their energy and pushed each other to the extreme. Can this game be more exciting?
It seemed like a lifetime ago that Djokovic had three consecutive match points. Before he could even blink, Djokovic had to face a break point. The Arthur Ashe Stadium went completely crazy, with a heat wave spreading across the stadium, even the sunset was eclipsed.
So, what next?
Now, Djokovic is facing a crisis, how will he respond?
Wait, when was the last time Gawain broke Djokovic’s serve?
The memory is a little fuzzy, even like it happened yesterday, but what about this time?
Shh.
Without the referee's reminder, the audience spontaneously asked everyone to be quiet, not because they were worried about disrupting Yukovic's serve rhythm, but because they were worried about missing the excitement.
No one wants to miss out. No one.