Mirra Andreeva had reached the psychological point of no return,. She was up a set and a break, 6-3, 2-0, in her first Grand Slam final. Once you get to that stage in a match of that magnitude, you have to win. Because if you lose from there, it means that at some level you choked—or at least it looks like you choked—and the world won’t let you forget it.
Right own cue, Andreeva, who had been virtually flawless for 11 games, suddenly faltered. She sent a backhand volley five feet over the baseline. She put backhand ground stroke into the net. When she failed to track down a drop shot, she showed her first sign of annoyance all afternoon.
A minute earlier, she had been cruising. Now she was down 0-40 and on the verge of being all-even again in the second set. So far, she had faced down two tricky opponents. The first was pesky Maja Chwalinska, she of the moonball and the chop shot and the crowd-pleasing Cinderella story. The second was the wind, which swirled through Court Philippe Chatrier, and sent balls bending and diving in surprising directions.
