Chapter Text
The last year and a half have been absolute torture, dotted with moments of absolute euphoria. Since that fateful night in March, Jannik Sinner been wound up so tight, he almost thought of running home to Sexten and call it a career. But here he is, World. No. 1 for over a year, and defending champion of the Australian Open, Wimbledon, and the US Open. Some people would say he got off easy, that his rankings and titles, his very existence, was fraudulent. Jannik wanted to agree with them, but it just wasn't in his character. He knew the truth, and everyone who mattered. In this inundating sport, you needed strong lungs, or you might get washed away.
He recalls the cliche his schoolteachers always said: Nessuna buona azione resta impunita. Well, he's certainly feeling punished now. Worse, the mere thought of being dissatisfied with his success spat on every value his parents had instilled in him. He should've chosen skiing. Although he mused that he'd be in a similar predicament. Either way he’d be scaling a mountain. He always aimed for the top, and he got their more often than not, but the air was thin, and the company few.
Jannik's coach Darren and the rest of his team were back at the hotel. Everyone was exhausted after two days straight of press and practice. Jannik had media obligations, from individual soundbites for the slam social accounts, with Carlos Alcaraz for a joint Nike ad, and with his partner for the new Mixed Doubles event, Emma Navarro.
Everyone wanted to capitalize off the "New Two" of men's tennis, as they called, with him and Carlos sharing the last seven slams between them. People also wanted to capitalize off of his partnership with Emma. The Mixed Doubles event starts in three days, but he felt like said partnership started back in Cincinnati, with her billionaire father buying the rights to the tournament.
Being the defending champion, he attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the brand-new facility with Emma's parents. His media training came in handy because his throat felt increasingly constricted with every overly familiar gesture. Emma’s little sister took a shining to him, much to his dismay, and Ben Navarro extended him a VIP pass to their country club for tee time.
He recalled after his round 2 match, he was less than pleased with his performance, perfectionist as he was, even if his opponent only won one game per set. At the Tennis Channel post-match interview, he felt a bit antsy, eager to get out on the practice courts to work on his serve. But then Prakash Amritraj brought up the Mixed Doubles event a little too eagerly. He zoned back in quickly.
"...with you and Emma Navarro, this is very highly talked about event. Everyone is excited for the Mixed Doubles."
He fought the compelling urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, um... Yeah it is, it is. I don't know really what to say." Prakash laughed off his non-answer and probably pegged him as bashful to further narrative. Maybe losing early was a good thing. Last he checked, Emma was through to the quarterfinals.
He suddenly thought back to Cincinnati. Who the fuck loses to Tommy Paul? Hardcourts were supposed to be his realm. Losing to Carlos in Paris was devastating but losing to an American at a stateside tournament is just a nuisance. It served him right after that piss poor performance. Carlos would probably win now, or maybe Ben, shit, maybe even Tommy fucking Paul.
He was one of the first of the top players on site, and the media presence was scant. Any idea bloomed in Jannik’s head. This time around, he wanted to experience a different side of New York before the US Open. He's once again coming in as a defending champion. The pressure was never-ending. Pressure is a privilege, he thought sarcastically. He was a metaphorical camel, and his back was wavering.
His final straw was when he accidentally stepped on to the “film set” of Game, Set, Matchmaker, the pathetic excuse for entertainment that the slam was offering this year. One of the producers tried their best to convince him to do a cameo and a confessional. Fat chance at that. To further his discomfort, the “bachelorette” gave him her number, a wink, and an ass grab.
Yeah, Jannik definitely needed to let off some steam.