By Bill Simons
Her body—so long, so lean—reaches high.
Her body—so elegant, so strong—has an ebony beauty like no other.
Venus Williams has seen so much, and that aura of hers is so proud, so royal. Do we know of a more striking figure in women’s sports?
We first saw her as a skinny girl of just 14, blazing her way into the world of women’s pro tennis in Oakland, California. The year was 1994, 19 years ago.
We’ve seen her run into bumps along the road, most notably one delivered by a jealous (and overmatched) Romanian named Irina Spirlea, here in New York in ’97.
We’ve seen Venus leap high, a majestic Zulu queen, triumphant over Lady Lindsay Davenport at Wimbledon in 2000 and—perhaps her most dramatic and career-defining victory—again in 2005.
And we’ve seen her age and battle a rare chronic disease, Sjogren’s syndrome.
Over the years, Venus Williams has evolved. She started out as a pioneering kid—the big sister playing big babe tennis. So energetic, so physical—she was the much-feared poster girl of a new brand of in-your-face tennis. Eat your heart out, finesse artists. No more moon balls, ladies and gentlemen.
But then fate yelled loud, “Wait a minute, not so fast.”
There was another Williams in town: Serena’s the name, and fearless victories are her game. In the famous prime time US Open final of 2001, Venus triumphed over her kid sister. But far more often than not, from New York to distant Melbourne, the younger Williams defeated her older sis—and beat down the rest of the WTA army.
Still, Venus soldiered on. She went into 2009 with seven Slams to her name, but then her major victories flatlined. There were still deep runs at important tourneys, and in 2010, she reached No. 2 in the world. But fans were perplexed—where were the memorable wins? More often they wondered about bewildering defeats, particularly a topsy-turvy 2008 loss to Serena in New York that seemed to reignite Serena’s career and stall her own. Yes, Venus reached the 2010 US Open semis, but she hasn’t made it past the third round of a major since Wimbledon in 2011. All the while, though, she’s had Serena’s back.
The best older sis in the game, we’d see her in the friends box—stoic and seemingly lost in thought, yet cheering on Serena. And we heard stories of all the loving advice and support she gave her younger, often controversial younger sister. On Grand Slam and Olympic courts alike, the no-nonsense power duo were the most imposing doubles team around.
But this year, with the exception of her big-serving surprise run to the Tokyo semis, has not been pretty for “Vee.” She reached the third round of the Aussie Open, then was beaten in straights by Maria Sharapova. She suffered first-round losses in Madrid and at the French Open, and went out in the second round at Wimbledon, where she has five Venus Rosewater Dishes to her name. Throughout, she struggled with a nasty back injury and her autoimmune disorder. Returning to hard courts, she was dismissed with little fanfare by Wimbledon semifinalist Kirsten Flipkens in Montreal.
But when Venus demolished the Belgian 6-1, 6-2 in a first-round US Open rematch, there was a flurry of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could do some damage in New York. Her next opponent was the diminutive Chinese veteran Jie Zheng, who hadn’t won a match since Roland Garros—a player who, in comparison to Vee, seemed to have a subterranean center of gravity. Unfortunately, in the first set, as she later told us, Venus “couldn’t pray a serve in.”
Still, this was New York. Yes, the urban dusk was coming, seemingly in sync with Venus’ career arc, but she is one of the great fighters in the game. Plus, she was at Louie, loud boisterous Louie—the fabled Louis Armstrong Stadium, where she’d fought so many memorable battles.
Venus battled back. At last, her reach-and-blast serve, with that stratospheric toss (which you imagine might collide with some plane circling Laguardia) began to impose, such a ferocious weapon. She collected the second set, only to fall behind immediately in the decisive third. Fans howled with a New Yawk ferocity, as jets sounded loud and Long Island Railroad trains rumbled deep. Venus herself rumbled on. But too often her forehands flew long. At 2-4, she was still behind, though the throng insisted—their mantra clear— “Let’s go Venus!”
So Venus bravely rallied, proving the old lady still has game and ample heart. She eventually evened the match, then forced a third-set breaker—and how New York loves deciding-set tiebreakers. But neither Venus nor the crowd liked it when she let loose three groundie errors and returned serve weakly, allowing Zheng to pound a forehand winner. Down 4-1, Venus fought back yet again, leveling the tiebreak at 5-5, when she pinned Zheng deep in a corner. Venus stormed the net, where she has scored so many winners. A modest backhand drifted her way. The whole court was open. The crowd flexed, ready to explode in celebration. A simple workmanlike forehand volley would have given her a match point. But Casey swung and Casey struck out.
Venus’ body became entangled. She rushed, and made a complete hash of the most critical shot of the three-hour marathon.
In a moment, all of Venus’ elegance seemed to vanish. Legs and arms flailing—first downtown, then uptown—she was as tangled as a gridlocked Manhattan intersection at rush hour.
Zheng easily collected the next point. In 25 callous seconds, the elder beauty of American tennis fell from the brink of victory to stinging defeat. The tennis gods shouted, “No, not this night!” as Venus lost 6-3, 2-6, 7-6(5). And the Louie throng, so eager to relish a feel-good triumph, was instead left to wonder.
What if Venus, the great doubles whiz, could have handled that simple volley? And how much longer will the older Williams sister and her aging, ailing body be able to go on, giving us moments and matches of inspiration?
