The second set was ferocious. Keller was lithe and fast, Basilia strong and resolute. Basilia dropped an early service game, but broke back in the ninth. They’d been playing for just over an hour when Basilia held serve to send them into a tiebreak.

Foster washed his eyes across the vast crowd, who were all leaning forward in anticipation. Keller came out onto the court with new determination and fired five explosive shots across the net. Basilia had no answer for any of them, and the crowd cheered as Keller clawed her way back into the match. Under pressure, Basilia went for the line and missed, giving Keller a set point. The American spun her racket in her hand, staring across the court as Basilia bounced the ball, tossed it high and double-faulted. Keller held her arms to the sky and roared like a Roman gladiator slaying an opponent.

The rest was easy. Keller dismantled the world champion blow by brutish blow. At the far end of the court, Marta Basilia looked like thunder. If Keller’s theory that Basilia had given her the black roses to get inside her head was correct, then the plan had backfired spectacularly. No matter how hard Basilia hit the ball, Keller hit harder. No matter how precise her angles were, Keller threw herself at the ball and found an even better return.

Eventually, Keller served for the match. Her first serve was an ace, straight down the middle of the court, kicking high past Basilia and thumping against the green tarpaulin behind her. The second serve was almost as good, flying wide of Basilia’s forehand. Another ace. Basilia screamed and cursed into the afternoon air. The crowd gasped and then giggled until the umpire settled them. Thirty–love. Halfway there. Keller fired the next serve straight into the net. She stepped back and shook the nerves out of her shoulders. Foster watched the crowd. Nobody was moving. Nobody was breathing. Nobody was doing anything but watching Keller, two points away from a place in the final. She bounced the ball and instead of opting for a softer serve, she put everything into it. Basilia had stepped into the court, not expecting such a fierce delivery. The ball kicked right in front of her, flying hard into her body. She was a supreme athlete, but even she could not twist herself into a shape that would allow her to play the ball. It smashed into her ribs, making a hollow thump that the whole crowd heard. Keller held up a hand of apology and returned to the baseline.

‘Forty–love,’ the umpire said.

Match point.