Fire, ferocity, anger, rage: no one in the history of this supposedly genteel game – well no one except Jimmy Connors – has used anger as motivation as much as Serena Williams. Time and again we have seen her roar back from adversity. Who else but Serena would say “You need a wild streak…a kind of irrational killer instinct. You need to put it out there that you’re reckless and unpredictable.”
So when she was jilted by her NFL boyfriend, she used the rejection to motivate her to win four straight Slams.
But she who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. And after a long, boring day of rain delays, Serena found herself pinned in one corner then the next by the sweet girl with an arsenal of penetrating groundies, Kim Clijsters, who just may be the best player in the game. And when she lost a punishing first set 6-4, Serena let go. SMASH! Serena cracked her racket on the court and then bashed the net post with another swing.
NO BIG DEAL. Many in this tournament – Gonzalez, Azarenka – have punished their racket. Sure it costs you a code violation, no big deal. But it feels good. Vent your fury. Still, there was considerable work to do. And when Serena surged in the second set, certain sages claimed she would orchestrate one of her willful power comebacks.
But wait. What’s this? A quiet call. Down 15-30, 5-6, the baseline judge – a petite woman – had called a foot fault.
WHAT!
Serena, who earlier in the tournament had fiercely stared down a linesperson who also called a foot fault, now flipped. An imposing woman — broad shoulders, her rippled muscled glowing under the bright Ashe lights – she first turned her back to the court, hands on hips in confusion. She simmered and then quickly turned, marched over, ball in hand, and began to gesture and thrust her racket menacingly saying, ‘”I’m going to take this **** ball and shove it down your **** throat!”
For two soggy days, TV had filled the down time with replays of some of the great U.S. Open freakouts: McEnroe, Nastase, Connors. But those were extended symphonic freakouts with many a contorted twist over extended periods (as was the infamous “match from hell” against who else – Kim Clijsters — at the ‘01 Indian Wells, when the crowd yelled and taunted her for over two hours.)
But this was different. This was SUDDEN, SHOCKING, INSTANTANEOUS.
The lineswoman – her small head with big glasses – protruding from her blue unie, quickly approached the chair. Tournament referee Brian Earley — always professional, his calm gravitas evident — emerged. Serena approached the chair and said, “You can’t call that…I didn’t say I would kill you. I didn’t say that.” And in a semi-McEnroe manner, protested, “Are you serious. Are you serious. I didn’t say that.”
But, off course, this is serious modern tennis. Anarchists and rage-meisters enter at your own risk. Serious structured tennis. Rules matter.
So in a flash – like McEnroe in the fourth round at the ’90 Aussie Open – Serena was tossed. Out and gone, she simply tossed her racket, accepting her rather wretched fate with little protest. Yes, let us not forget that she had nearly lost the match. Still, her code violation and point penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct brought her to the end.
The crowd was LIVID, CONFUSED, STUNNED. Howls of protest bounced about tennis’ biggest arena. “We’ve been waiting for 12 hours for this match,” protested the man in the front row who had come all the way from Venezuela just to see the match.
But Serena was gone, in the locker room with her greatest confidante, sister “V.”
In the bowels of the stadium, Papa Richard, stiff, somber and stunned, stood outside the locker room. A reporter approached. Richard was in no mood. “Get away from me, you dog,” he scowled. “Security, get this dog away from me.”
Other reporters began to gather. Some searched upstairs in the now empty Player Lounge. Now, in the arena’s power corriedor TV lights shone bright. Cameras jostled, security bristled.
Serena’s prime handler was angry. Clear this area, she insisted, and shoved a photographer. Tempers flared. Suddenly, quickly, the locker room opened and Venus stared out, Serena behind her. The two quickly retreated.
“The press conference will be in just a minute,” announced a disassociated voice. Bulky security men in their bright yellow shirts gathered to escort Serena to a new arena, that ring they call the interview room.
Writers probed, top USTA officialss and celebrities like Alec Baldwin gathered. Sister Venus stood in the back – the tension wasover the top. But the fireworks were modest.
Yes, Serena has had a stormy season. She had basically claimed that she, not No. 1 Dinara Safina, was the best player in the world, and at the French Open she threatened her foe, Maria Jose Martinez Sanchez, warning her she better not come up to net again and that she would get her in the locker room.
But in the press conference, Williams was rather composed though distinctly unrepentant for her over-the-top abusive tirade. She told reporters, “I said something that I guess they gave me a point penalty [for]. Unfortunately, it was on match point.”
Asked by IT if she felt she owed the lineswoman an apology, Williams said, “An apology for? From me?…Well, how many people yell at linespeople?…Players, athletes get frustrated. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen that happen.”
Some, though, weren’t impressed with how forthcoming Williams was, including CBS broadcaster Mary Carillo, who said, “She didn’t win that point but she could have won an Oscar for her performance in that press conference.”
I asked her, “You’ve always prided yourself on being an extremely forthright player, and with us here in the press room. Could you please tell us what you said?”
Serena danced adeptly, deflecting (as she often does). She played her best mark (“I’m not here to talk about the past”), saying, “I don’t think that’s necessary for me to speak about. I’ve let it go, and I’m trying to [be] better – to, you know, to get – to move on.”
Serena, you’re such a great champ and a mighty role model, so wouldn’t a dose of accountability be nice?
Serena added, “I’ve never been in a fight in my whole life, so I don’t know why she would have felt threatened.” Hey, Serena, just look at the video.
But later Williams wasn’t so sure.
“No. I didn’t threaten. I didn’t say — I don’t remember anymore, to be honest. I was in the moment.”
Williams, added, “I used to have a real temper, and I’ve gotten a lot better. So I know you don’t believe me, but I used to be worse.”
Whatever.
Afterwards, Serena’s mother Oracene stood stunned and subdued, telling IT she didn’t know if she was unhappy with how it all ended, but that the timing was unfortunate. “Was the ending shocking?” I asked.
“Shocking,” she replied. “No, startling.”
Startling indeed.
The most tumultuous career in the modern women’s game had suddenly added a new chapter on a huge stage and perhaps the most startling of her entire career.
