Championship point

The air is still
As the sun sends
Shimmering waves of heat
Across the court,

The bounce and the throw
The pounding feet,
The determined belief,

Punctuated only by the thwack
and the crack
of rackets that send the ball
slicing through the tension.

First fast and then, slow,
And nobody dares
Breathe,

Their stares
Drawn to the same point,
The pressure crushing,
Until with one voice
The crowd releases its thunderous roar
This, with relief, gives way to a torrent of applause.