The Legend continues.
She was down a set and 1-4 to an inspired Pavs. And by "inspired" I mean a Pavs who was hitting the snot out of the ball and holding her nerve. And then, at some point, I think Frank looked up and remembered where she was. She's at Roland Fucking Garros, and she wasn't going to go down to some 19 year-old upstart with braces. That kid will have her time to shine in the future. But the present is now and the now is Francesca Schiavone, Queen of The Moment.
But boy, did Pavs test her. Down 1-5 in the third set, Pavs somehow clawed her way back to 5-5. She did it by taking advantage of Fran's suddenly tentative play, stepping in and cracking winner off both wings. The kid did not give up and she sent a message to Frank that she wasn't going to just roll over and give her the match. If Frank wanted it, she'd have to take it. Which she eventually did, taking the final set 7-5.
As much as Frank is the story here, this tournament (and this match in particular) was a coming out party for Pavs, who has clearly served noticed to the lazy journalists that her name deserved to spelled out and spelled right. Oft accused of being an unfit underachiever (seriously, that makes no sense), Pavs reminded everyone why she was one to watch after her semifinal run at Indian Wells in 2009. The woman can hit with power, she's not as nuts as a lot of the Russians, and she sings karaoke like a motherfuckin' boss.
I send a Forty Deuce salute your way, Pavs. And by that I mean I raise my glass to you. It's empty, but it's the thought that counts.