When I walked onto the strip in Los Angeles for my final match against the Frenchman Herve Grangér-Vernon, my adrenaline is pumping ... As the match begins, I get the first touch. I get the second touch. I make it to four, My touches appear to me to be so skillful, so beautiful, that I say to myself, 'I think I'm in the Zone, but I'm not sure. Let me not think about it. ... '. Soon enough, as soon as the thought crosses my mind, the Frenchman gets two points on me. But I snatch the game right back. I get another touch and it's 8-2. Then he gets 8-3, and 8-4. Even as he is gaining, I know the game is mine. All I gotta do is keep riding the tide, keep going with it. I get 9-4, and I finish him off 10-4. The Frenchman falls to his knees crying. When I looked out at the crowd, I could see that the Hungarians, the Italians, and the rest of the Europeans had all turned around. They went from not wanting my win to happen, to being forced to say in their hearts and souls, 'Bravo. Bravo'. That, to me, was incredible.