Jessica Pegula and Her Third-Set Redemption: Can Resilience Overcome Sabalenka?

It was long past midnight at Flushing Meadows. In the chilling air of Arthur Ashe Stadium, Jessica Pegula stood at the baseline, taking a deep breath. Emma Navarro, the 23-year-old who carries the composure of a powerful family, had just closed out the first set with two breaks of serve. The air was tinged with timid applause from the few fans still remaining. They didn't want to leave. They were waiting for something. We have grown too accustomed to narrating matches through direct numbers: first-serve percentage, second-serve points won, winner counts. But that night, from the stands, I did not record a single statistic. I only watched how Pegula moved. After losing the first set 4-6, she did not throw her racquet, nor glance at her coach's box. She simply adjusted her strings, like a pianist before a concerto. And from that moment, the match began to take on a different rhythm. Pegula won six consecutive games to take the second set 6-4. Navarro maintained her pace to lead 2-1 in the third, but then the tide turned. Pegula's returns dug deeper into her opponent's feet. She moved as if she anticipated Navarro's intentions. The match ended after 2 hours and 19 minutes, with a scoreline of 4-6, 6-4, 6-3. A comeback that seemed already scripted in her own narrative. What accounts for Pegula's ability to turn matches around? That is a question tennis fans have asked all summer. At Indian Wells, she overturned the situation against Iga Swiatek. In Washington, she turned the tables with key serves. But last night, in New York, the answer lay in her tenacity, her ability to read the match without relying on data. Navarro played well in the first set. She broke Pegula twice before losing three straight games in the third set. But that shift in momentum cannot be explained by any statistic. I recall how Pegula won in three sets in the third round against Leylah Fernandez - another young player who also thrives at the US Open. She lost the first set, then forced her opponent into long rallies. Fernandez grew tired; Pegula stood firm. That is a pattern. That is a lifestyle: start slow, finish strong. But is that a sustainable strategy in the biggest tournaments of the year? The numbers have spoken: 19 three-set wins this season—most on the WTA tour. A glorious figure, but also a warning. It reflects that Pegula does not have the ability to close out quickly. She steps back to leap further, making the audience—and her own heart—sink before bursting. Look at history: at age 32, she is the oldest woman in the Open Era to reach multiple Grand Slam semifinals in a season for the first time. This year, she reached the Australian Open semifinals and now the US Open. That is a rare peak, but one built on a fragile foundation. Last year, she played the US Open final against Aryna Sabalenka. This year, they meet again in the semifinals. Sabalenka, the defending champion and world No. 1, is marching powerfully toward a third consecutive title. Her shots know no fear; she ends matches like a whirlwind. For Pegula, losing the first set to such an opponent is nearly a death sentence. But perhaps we are going too far. Because tennis is not just serving and points. It is a story of the silences between games, of how a player confronts pressure. In a post-match interview, Pegula did not talk tactics. She said, "I just tried to stay mentally strong." A simple sentence, yet one that contains a whole journey. During the pandemic, when stadiums froze, I once made a documentary about empty courts. The silent stadium has its own sound of nostalgia. Tonight, the court was not empty, but it echoed the loneliness of a person trying to overcome herself. Watching Pegula run from the back of the court, I recalled the piano in Moscow from the story I wrote about Luka Modric. The piano in Moscow taught me that victory is not the only thing worth documenting. And here, at 32, Pegula is writing a score where victory is just one sharp note. She has won 19 three-set matches this year, the most on the WTA tour. But that number is also a hidden wound: it shows she frequently falls into peril. Her steady, slow-burning style is being tested by time and a dense schedule. The quarterfinal with Navarro began at 8:30 p.m., 90 minutes later than the usual night session. The match lasted over two hours, meaning she had only Wednesday to recover before meeting Sabalenka on Thursday. Based on my experience covering Grand Slams, I know that accumulated fatigue comes not only from the number of sets played but also from the time the match ends. Pegula has played three consecutive three-set matches at this tournament, including the comeback win over Fernandez in the third round where she rallied after losing the first set. She is operating on an emotional wavelength that commands respect, but against a competitor like Sabalenka—who never allows her opponent to drag her into a prolonged battle—a slow start could be a fatal trap. There was a time when people said "women don't understand football"—and I understand that skepticism. But I also understand that, even in tennis, emotion and patience are often undervalued. Pegula, with her emotionless face and legs that never stop, embodies what men often call "masculine grit." But this is a woman teaching us that victory is not a moment of explosion, but a process of endurance. Facing Sabalenka in the semifinals, Pegula needs to start faster. She needs to attack her opponent's weaknesses from the very first games. But can she do it? The head-to-head history is against her: Sabalenka has won both their previous US Open meetings, including last year's final and the year before's semifinal. However, this is Pegula with 19 three-set wins, with a calmness that borders on cold. She is in a position no one expected—being one of the oldest players still going deep in a rapidly rejuvenating tournament. The pandemic froze sports, but it cannot freeze the stories we tell about each other. I remember when I was making the documentary about empty stadiums, I interviewed an elderly woman at Anfield who still placed her Liverpool scarf on the empty seat in front of the TV. She said she and her husband had watched Liverpool for 50 years, and every time they won, they held hands. When he died, she continued to hold the empty seat. I thought of that when I watched Pegula stand on court, facing a match that could define her career. No scarf, no hand, but she is holding on to a dream that many consider too late. The semifinal will be the final test of Pegula's philosophy: can resilience replace attacking speed? Can a piano be heard amid the raging whirlwind of Sabalenka? I dare not answer. But I recall a detail: in 2026, Pegula reached her first Grand Slam quarterfinal at the Australian Open, where she lost to a powerful hitter—exactly Sabalenka. Since then, she has beaten Sabalenka three times on different surfaces. Today, on the hard courts of New York, where she cried after last year's final, she has a chance to rewrite her story. If you ask me for a prediction, I would say that Pegula doesn't need to win to be remembered. She has already proven that age does not define limits. But if she wins, she will give us another fairy tale—one about how "underestimated" women can stay up late in New York and pen lines of history. To me, that is worth more than any title. And as this night passes, I will sit before my screen, following every game, wondering: can Pegula turn her three-set winning habit into a victory from the second set onward? Because she has given us too many suspenseful minutes, too many returns from the brink. Perhaps it's time for her to enjoy a shorter evening, where the New York lights turn off before dreams become too fragile.