Comeback

"15-Love."

I walked back to the baseline, trying to ignore the cries of the spectators.

"Quiet please."

He served, still somehow as strong as his first one a couple hours prior. I got racket to ball, but it went flying backwards into the wall.

"30-Love."

My cheeks burning, I waited for the serve. This time, my racket didn't even touch the ball.

"40-Love, Championship Point."

This was it. One more serve, and this was over, unless I began the biggest comeback of-

He suddenly grabbed his leg, screaming.

A moment later, the announcement of forfeit rang out.

That worked too.