The Diamond Tennis Centre in Beijing pulsed with the humid energy of late September, its floodlights casting long shadows across the baseline as Emma Raducanu stepped onto the court for what should have been her defining moment of the Asian swing. The 22-year-old British No. 1, fresh off a gritty run that saw her dispatch qualifiers and lower seeds with a blend of tactical guile and blistering groundstrokes, faced world No. 7 Jessica Pegula in the third round of the 2025 China Open. It was a clash billed as a potential breakthrough—a chance for Raducanu to snap her nightmarish streak of nine straight losses to top-10 opponents and vault into the last 16, where a quarter-final date with Naomi Osaka or others beckoned. But in a match that twisted like a knife, Raducanu’s promise evaporated into agony, as Pegula mounted a ferocious comeback to win 3-6, 7-6(11-9), 6-0, leaving the former US Open champion to rue three squandered match points and a golden rankings opportunity that slipped through her fingers like sand.
Raducanu arrived in Beijing riding a wave of quiet optimism. Seeded 30th in the WTA 1000 event, she’d breezed through her second-round opener against Spain’s Cristina Bucsa, dropping just five games in a 6-2, 6-3 clinic that showcased her revitalized serve and razor-sharp backhand slice. It was her debut at the China Open, a tournament steeped in prestige on the tour’s calendar, and with her mother—born in China—watching from the stands, the personal stakes felt amplified. Raducanu had skipped Great Britain’s Billie Jean King Cup ties to chase points in Seoul the week prior, where she’d reached the last eight before a similar collapse against Barbora Krejcikova: up a set, three match points, and still a three-set defeat. That loss extended her top-10 drought to eight matches, a shadow that loomed large. Against Pegula, the head-to-head stood at 1-2 in Pegula’s favor, with the American’s victories coming on US hard courts, including a grueling three-setter at the 2025 Miami Open. Their lone British meeting, on Wimbledon’s grass, had gone Raducanu’s way, but Beijing’s neutral, bouncy courts promised a fresh battleground.
From the opening exchanges, Raducanu dictated terms with the poise of a player reborn. Her forehand, a weapon honed through months of injury rehab and coaching tweaks, cracked like thunder, while her defensive scrambling forced Pegula into uncharacteristic errors. The first set unfolded in Raducanu’s favor: a break at 2-1, consolidated with clinical holds, and a 6-3 close that had the sparse but fervent crowd murmuring approval. Pegula, the fifth seed and a model of consistency with finals runs in Toronto and Cincinnati earlier in the year, looked rattled, her flat trajectory shots neutralized by Raducanu’s depth and angles. “I felt like I was in control early on,” Raducanu would later reflect, her voice steady but edged with regret. The second set tightened into a cagey affair, with both women trading breaks and holding serve under mounting pressure. Pegula’s resilience flickered— a laser backhand down the line here, a diving forehand volley there—but Raducanu’s variety kept her at bay, pushing the set to a tiebreak that promised to crown the afternoon’s queen.
What followed was pure theater, a 23-minute tiebreak etched in tension and heartbreak. Raducanu surged to a 5-2 lead, her serves landing like precision-guided missiles, and then came the chances: three match points, each a heartbeat from glory. The first, on Pegula’s serve, saw Raducanu’s return clip the baseline for a winner, but Pegula’s deep lob turned defense into opportunity. The second evoked gasps—a perfectly placed drop shot that Pegula somehow chased down, flipping it into a passing winner. The third, on her own delivery, unraveled in a slow, loopy rally where Raducanu’s forehand floated wide, the ball betraying her with a cruel spin. Pegula, sweat-streaked and snarling, seized the momentum, reeling off four straight points to steal the breaker 11-9 and level the match. “That was a crazy match,” Pegula said afterward, her words a mix of relief and respect. “I just kept fighting—Emma made me earn every point.” The WTA’s official feed captured the drama in real-time: “EPIC 😮 @JPegula comes out on top 11-9 in an extraordinary second set tiebreak to take this to a decider.”
If the tiebreak was a gut punch, the third set was a knockout blow. Raducanu, drained from the emotional rollercoaster, watched her game unravel like a frayed thread. Pegula, sensing blood, elevated her play to another gear—aces slicing the air, groundstrokes landing with venomous depth. A double break came swiftly: 2-0, then 4-0, Raducanu’s shoulders slumping as unforced errors piled up like autumn leaves. She slumped to her seat during a changeover, towel over her head, looking every bit the warrior who’d left her armor on the court. Pegula cruised to 6-0 in a mere 22 minutes, sealing victory in 2 hours and 23 minutes of high-stakes chess. For Raducanu, it was a ninth consecutive top-10 defeat, stretching back to her Miami quarter-final loss to the very same opponent. The rankings implications stung: no jump toward the top 20, no momentum into Wuhan or the WTA Finals qualifiers. Instead, a painful echo of Seoul, where resilience had faltered at the finish line.
Post-match, Raducanu’s candor cut through the disappointment. “I had my chances, but I didn’t take them,” she admitted, her eyes fixed on the middle distance. “It’s frustrating because I know I played well for stretches, but closing out these big moments is what separates good from great.” Pegula, ever the gracious victor, pulled no punches in praise: “Emma’s game is so tricky—she slices, she defends, she attacks. I had to stay patient.” The loss caps a bittersweet 2025 for Raducanu: a Seoul title earlier in the year, a Wimbledon semi-final, but nagging inconsistencies against the elite. Her serve, once a liability, now holds up; her movement, post-surgeries, is fluid. Yet, the mental fortitude to seal the deal remains her Everest.
Beijing’s exit leaves Raducanu with two weeks to regroup before the Wuhan Open, where redemption awaits on similar hard courts. Pegula advances to face the winner of Osaka vs. Kostyuk, her eyes on a deep run in a tournament she’s long coveted. For Raducanu, this isn’t defeat—it’s a dispatch. The China Open crowd, a sea of flags and flashes, had tasted her fire; now, they—and the tennis world—wait for her to forge it into unyielding steel. In a sport where one point can rewrite narratives, Raducanu’s story is far from over. It’s just paused, agonizingly, on the brink of what could be.
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