OK, now that we’ve set the table and tone, let’s move onto the real issues percolating in this sizzling and sometimes overheated dialogue about les filles Williams.
Let’s talk about the corrupting influence of money, the politics of race in America, the philosophical underpinnings . . .
Just kidding—although I admit that a part of me thinks that inching back from that ledge is kind of a cop-out. Alas, this is a tennis blog, so on we roll.
I’ve had an epiphany of sorts, thanks to the degree to which Serena Williams fans either don’t see or choose to ignore a fairly obvoius theme running through all my posts. I think the world of the sisters as players and talents, and so I hold them to different standards and expectations than I do, say, Daniela Hantuchova (sorry, babe, but this is not your week!).
Many of the comment posters didn’t just drink the Williams Kool-Aid, they fell into the vat. That’s okay, I guess—that’s partly what being a fan is all about, right? (Just ask Gunther Parche!).
Others, I think are nurturers (Lydia? Ruth?) who always want to emphasize the positive and focus on justifications (many of them valid) for why the Williamses are struggling.
I know, I know. They each won a Grand Slam, etc. But I think the burden of talent is like the burden of entitlement, of which it’s been said: From those to whom much has been given, much is expected.
And that’s why some of the angry comments pointing out the obvious (the Williamses owe me nothing, the Williamses are rich and famous and laughing all the way to the bank, the Williamses can do anything they want and who’s going to stop them?) don't even make my radar screen. People who spit those things out triumphantly fit that great description of a cynic as One who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.
More than anything, though, the debate has absolutely rekindled my appreciation for an amorphous gift that is very difficult to analyze or assess in cold, black-and-white terms. Talent.
What a gift it is. And that makes me reiterate something I've said at different times writing about the Williamses: They represent one of the most remarkable sports stories of this—or any other—era.
How they became who they are today—warts and all—is simply impossible to explain without first acknowledging the presence of that proverbial 300-pound gorilla in the room, talent.
I’ve said my piece about Richard Williams’ coaching skills. But at the end of the day, tennis coaches—good or bad—are a dime a dozen.
Oh, for someone to dream as hugely and audaciously as Richard did, and to make those dreams come true, is nothing short of amazing.
Yet for all the credit Richard gets, let’s not kid anybody here. The real reason the sisters are in their present, exalted position is because of their talent—the gifts they were given, combined with their ambition and determination to make the most of those gifts.
That, by the way, is one of the reasons the U.S. Open struck me as a wake-up call for them. For one thing nobody has mentioned is that if the sisters had shown the same attitude toward the game 15 years ago as they do now, they would be flipping burgers, or perhaps writing law briefs, today.
Sure, so what?
They’ve done the heavy lifting of career, let them now pursue what goals they wish, right? They’ve achieved historic status, let them have a little fun. They’ve conquered a world that was not their own—although the Williamses had far, far more help making the big leap up the socio-economic ladder than they’ve ever acknowledged—so let them bask in the glow of conquest.
Fine. But there’s this little matter of talent. For the gifted, talent is like a vital, life-sustaining chemical. And among all the poor souls in this world, some of the most desperate are those who had something great, and wasted or threw it away.
Savor talent with me for a moment. Among other things, it’s the great equalizer in life, even if it also provides an irrefutable proof that there is nothing fair about life.
Talent—not Richard Williams, not Rick Macci—is the reason a Serena or Venus can vault from Compton to Palm Beach. But you know what? Talent is also the reason a John McEnroe can become a great tennis champion, instead of just another sharp-elbowed New York lawyer.
For here’s another thing about talent: It’s doled out at random, with no regard to race, creed, color—or any of our other convenient divisions. One of the most amazing things about tennis, to me, is the way it demonstrates exactly the opposite of what most people, hung up on the image of tennis as an elitist sport, hung up themselves on issues of class or race or economic standing, want to believe.
Tennis shows—and this is no new trend, growing out of the bogus “democratization” of the game, either—that wealth and status mean nothing when it comes to succeeding in tennis.
Think about it. As remarkable as it is that Venus and Serena were able to transcend their background and succeed in the game, isn’t it equally remarkable that so few of the silver-spoon kids who grew up at country clubs were unable to transcend theirs, and actually make it in as fierce and individualistic an enterprise as tennis?
I submit that John McEnroe’s ability to escape the stultifying aspects of being an entitled, private-school kid in New York represents an act of transcendence very similar to that of the Williamses, albeit from the other end of the spectrum.
The conclusion: It’s the talent that does it. Talent— not the ambitious tennis parent, not resentment, not greed—is the catalytic element.
If you’re having trouble buying this, think of it this way. We understand why so many kids from disadvantaged backgrounds don’t make it in tennis, but do we really understand why so many kids from highly privileged homes also don't make it? It’s extraordinary, when you think of all those solid middle- and upper-middle-class kids whacking forehands under the supervision of expert coaches, how few of them make it—how brimful the pro tour is with people who theoretically have no business being there—kids from the backwoods of Slovakia, or from immigrant families in the U.S.
And it has always been this way. Great champions who were born with silver spoons in their mouths are as rare in tennis as icons who came up from virtually nothing (like, say, Evonne Goolagong Cawley). In fact, there are even fewer of them.
Some snob sport, huh?
This is all so counter-intuitive that it reminds me of the book in which these facts have been used as a case study, Freakonomics. The book poses questions like this: Is your child more likely to grow up to be a reader if (A) you have a ton of books lying around the house or (B) you read to your child regularly?
The authors then answer, citing the hardcore statistical evidence.
Okay, you’re dying to know the answer right?
Have a great weekend, God bless!