Return of the Queen（s）
ALISHA SULLIVAN
All Londoners know that there are three Londons.
The London you live in, the one that you visit on a fairly regular basis and is within your comfort zone, and the one that you kind of forget exists because you don’t visit it (or you do so very infrequently).
Hammersmith falls into the last category.
I’ve never been to Queen’s. I’ve never needed to. We were in Nottingham when the men’s tournament ran, and up until last year, the women didn’t get to play there.
So, it was a big day, heading that far west.
Despite being scheduled as last on court, Naomi was out of the house by nine, which tells you all you need to know about how she might have been feeling about her return.
I didn’t actually see her before she stepped on court, but when Wyatt arrived courtside, I could tell by the look on his face that he was slightly worried about her.
Not because he didn’t have faith in her—no one believes in Naomi’s ability to succeed more than him—but because he could tell that she didn’t have 100% faith in herself.
She went through the motions of her warm-up, but she was too in her head to let herself slip into match mode.
It’s not all that surprising, considering she hasn’t played a professional match in months, but also not something I’d ever considered a possibility. Naomi is like Teflon on the court.
And there were moments of that today. But there was also a lot of rust.
Well, not a lot, but some.
So much good came from her match. She’s still quick. Can still see the ball in a way I’ve never understood. The power she can hit a ball with continues to astound me. When her serve was locked in, it was unmatched.
The bones of what makes Naomi one of the greats are all still there, and she and Wyatt will work on excavating that greatness bit by bit over the next week or so before it gets put to the test again in Eastbourne. We shake it off and move forward.
And when I say we, I obviously mean Naomi.
My trip to the west was short-lived, which is sad, but I’m excited to see what comes next. This has only added fuel to Naomi’s fire, and I think the best might be yet to come.
Until next time, from my kitchen table in London (again, I basically live here).