This year marks the 50th anniversary of TENNIS Magazine's founding in 1965. To commemorate the occasion, we'll look back each Thursday at one of the 50 moments that have defined the last half-century in our sport.
“The serves and returns Alves called out were landing, stunningly unreturned by Carpriati, inside the lines, no discerning eyesight needed...No one could understand what was happening. Serena, in her denim skirt, black sneaker boots, and dark mascara, began wagging her finger and saying, “no, no, no,” as if by negating the moment she could propel us back into a legible world.”
There aren’t many evenings in tennis history that are recorded in volumes of poetry that have been nominated for the National Book Award, but the match that brought us Hawk-Eye is one of them. The lines above come from Citizen: An American Lyric, a 2014 book by the poet Claudia Rankine, and they help us recall one of the most surreal and ultimately transformative episodes in recent Grand Slam history, the 2004 U.S. Open quarterfinal between Serena Williams and Jennifer Capriati.
Or, perhaps we should say, between Serena Williams and chair umpire Mariana Alves. As Rankine writes, Alves stunned Serena, and every tennis fan watching on TV, with a series of bizarre calls in Capriati’s favor. They were capped by an all-time awful overrule at the beginning of the third set: A Serena backhand that landed inside the sideline was called in by the line judge; yet Alves, sitting on the other side of the court, “corrected” the judge and called it out. Serena waved her hand in protest, to no avail.