Chapter 1964: Fighting continues
Plop!
Plop!
Although words cannot accurately describe one ten-thousandth of the mood at this moment, the surging, the excitement, the frenzy, are beyond imagination.
But the heartbeat doesn't lie.
Firm, turbulent, strong.
One after another, it hit the chest hard, as if it would burst out in the next second. That powerful force roared in the body.
Then--
Dimitrov looked at the figure on the court who was exhausted and crying, then he stood up suddenly and raised his right hand high.
There was only one thought in my mind, and without hesitation or delay, the words broke through the restraints and shouted out.
"Fight!"
It was not until this moment that I realized that a simple word could carry the passion and weight of all emotions, and my heart couldn't help but skip a beat.
Just by blurting out the words, his soul began to tremble slightly, so strongly and so fiercely that it fell into madness.
"Fight!"
As never before, Dimitrov felt the fighting spirit and murderous intent flowing in his blood.
Once, he thought it was the desire for victory and the pursuit of perfection, but now it seems that he was wrong, extremely wrong.
It is definitely not just about victory and championship, it is also an attitude, a posture and a spirit. Losing does not matter, the important thing is the belief to fight to the last moment.
When he stood in front of Djokovic, he did not feel this energy. Even though his technique and tactics were perfect, it still didn't work.
But now, he felt it.
Selflessly, immersedly, boiling with excitement, abandoning the self without any image, join this carnival.
One shout after another, the more they shouted, the more excited they became, the more excited they became, the burning feeling swept across like a prairie fire, and souls melted and disintegrated in the rolling heat wave, becoming one with the audience, breathing together with audiences around the world, and finally becoming part of the Arthur Ashe Stadium.
The heart is beating.
"Fight!"
"Fight!"
"Fight!"
Nothing else is needed. All the fancy and noise are no longer needed. Just one voice, roaring from the depths of the soul.
Listen, this is the heartbeat of Arthur Ashe Stadium, this is the pulse of competitive sports, this is the beating of the champion's heart that never gives up and fights to the end.
The shock spread out to all parts of the world with Arthur Ashe Stadium as the center, and then converged towards Arthur Ashe Stadium from all over the world. The endless heat waves and impacts surged like ripples.
At this moment, Gawain is the heart of the world.
Gawain lay quietly on the ground, feeling the summer rain pouring down. The scorching hot air turned into raging waves and swept him into the storm.
Everything is so beautiful and dreamy, without any sense of reality——
More exciting than the first time, happier than the second time.
Gao Wen thought that this was the third time and he should be more mature and calm, but in fact, this time was different from any previous time.
Thousands of thoughts flooded into his mind, and he didn't even realize it. He just lay on the ground, quietly feeling this moment.
Then, he heard the cheers, and the emotions that he had controlled burst out again. He was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears filled his eyes again.
call……
After letting out a long breath, Gawain finally stood up, quickly wiped the mess on his cheek, and saw Djokovic in front of him.
Despite losing the match, a loss that was more bitter and painful than any before, Djokovic showed his grace, walked around the net to his side of the court, stepped toward Gawain, and gave him a hug with open arms.
"Great match," Djokovic said.
Gawain responded, "Great game!"
Djokovic folded his arms slightly to show his sincerity, "You deserve to win."
Only if you can afford to lose can you win.
Sincerely embrace victory and calmly face failure. Djokovic sent his best wishes to Gao Wen, "The one who performed better won the victory."
Gao Wen could also feel Djokovic's sincerity. Maybe they were not friends, but through these games, they both tried their best without reservation and put all their enthusiasm and passion on the court. They both deserved respect for each other and for this sport.
"We both fought to the very end," Gawain said. "You and me. To the very end."
Djokovic was ready to leave, but when he heard this, he stopped and looked deeply at Gawain.
He didn't like Gawain.
It's not just about winning or losing, it's more of an aura. They never seem to be on the same channel. In addition, there are things happening off the court. He doesn't like Gao Wen's attitude and gesture towards his father, and he doesn't need the media to fan the flames. Everything seems to be wrong.
However, this did not prevent him from admiring Gawain, as there were things in Gawain that were worth learning from.
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A champion must have the courage to face failure.
Djokovic smiled slightly, "Please believe me, it will be the same next time."
Gao Wen also laughed and met Djokovic's gaze with confidence.
Djokovic then continued, "As for now, this is your moment. Enjoy it."
After saying that, Djokovic didn't stop, turned around and walked back to his own player's rest area.
He felt a little lost and a little aggrieved, but he still tried to straighten his back, open his chest, and face it all calmly.
Gao Wen was not in a hurry either.
He needed to enjoy this moment slowly and quietly, go back to the net, shake hands with the referee Esdraki, throw the racket back to the players' lounge, then turn back to the court, raise his head slightly, look around, trying to imprint all the splendor in front of him.
This year is different from last year, and different from any previous summit wins—
Night falls.
They truly fought hard from day to night. The sun had already set, and the lights of the Arthur Ashe Stadium were brightly lit, illuminating the night sky. The vast and surging sea of people before them burst out with incredible energy, lighting up the night sky again, and that enchanting peacock blue spread out.
A myriad of mixed feelings and thoughts surged up again in an instant.
Then, Gawain clenched his fists and beat his chest, once, again, and again, releasing all the remaining energy in the depths of his soul.
The eyes are clear and bright, filled with the sea of stars.
It was this simple action that once again ignited the energy of Arthur Ashe Stadium. The noisy and surging shouts throughout the whole process incredibly climbed to a higher level. The five-star red flags fluttered all over the sky, and the gorgeous and bright colors dyed the night sky red, like a rushing river.
"Fight!"
"Fight!"
Shouting, feeling, experiencing.
This is not just a simple shout, but the sound of a beating heart and a burning soul, completely integrated with the Arthur Ashe Stadium.
It even evolves into an instinct, quietly becoming a part of the soul and becoming deeply imprinted.
At this moment, they just prostrated themselves at Gawain's feet, surrendering and worshipping him.
(End of this chapter)