The Williams Problem

created --11/01/2002

The Williams Problem

          When Dr. Donald Adams was named a Fulbright scholar and packed off to Vietnam, I was immediately intrigued. According to the University press release, he was going to teach English literature to some unnamed recipients who would become the Asiatic depository for his vast literary cerebral capacity. But I began imagining him sequestered somewhere deep in the heart of darkness, crawling through the tall grass, knife in his teeth, preparing to slit the throat of hypocrisies. Like Brando, lying in the shadows surrounded by oversexed Montagnard native girls kneeling patiently at his feet waiting for him to utter some obscure belletristic revelation. Can they truly understand the depths of his arguments or do they simply feign interest so they can admire and covet his long almost white blond hair? I'll probably never know the answer to that question.

          I'd like to think he's thrown off the cocoon of academia that seemed to be weighing around his neck when I knew him. But it's more likely he's still ensconced in the comforting arms of a University -- somewhere in the city formerly known as Saigon.

          These strange overly dramatic machinations all stemmed from a single experience with my former professor who once chided me for my use of mixed metaphors. (I like mixed metaphors; they lend mystery to your writing because no one knows what the hell you’re taking about). But getting back to the point, I remember one night sitting at a table in the Quarterdeck sports bar listening to Dr. Adams voice his dissatisfaction with life as head of the English department at FAU. As he complained to an audience of students and friends about the meager interest he found for his arcane writings, I chimed in -- in my overly blunt way -- saying that there had to be people out there with similar interests, it was simply a matter of finding them. Eyes turned towards him and a momentary silence fell over the table as everyone who was paying attention waited for him to respond. But he didn't say anything, just looked down at his beer. I could tell he was giving my offhand remark more thought than anyone else at the table. as the conversation starter up again. But there was something else, something deeper in his face that seemed to say that all the effort and time he had put into reaching his position hadn't brought him the satisfaction he might have thought it would. While it might be presumptuous of me to have read this into him looking at his beer, it really isn't if you consider that basic premise of the human condition; that fundamental striving and ceaseless need to become more than we are. It doesn't particularly matter who we are, for some of us it is a continual state of looking in from the outside. Because no matter where you are, from some perspective, you're always looking over the fence at some greener pasture; those lush rolling hills of a life more gratifying than my own.

          While the I-Ching, like many Eastern philosophical texts, would have us believe that true fulfillment can only be derived from within and that seeking it outside of yourself is something of an exercise in futility, it would seem that it takes a lifetime of meditation and contemplation to even approach this state. We impatient Westerners don't have that kind of time and it's difficult to truly absorb such beliefs in a world of so many visceral delights. I can't even wait for the TV Guide channel to scroll halfway through the 99 different channels without channel surfing -- even when I really want to learn the name of the movie I'm watching on the Bravo channel. (Notice I managed to use the word channel or a derivative of the word four times in that last sentence -- Bravo!)

          Apparently it's even hard for Easterners to reject this external world. Some elusive balance seems to be the best solution, but I'm still waiting to meet someone who's found it. What I like about the I Ching is that it gives you a creative method of exploring the way your mind works and helps create self-awareness. Every once in a while I read something or see something in the media that seems to touch on this elusive Dutchman, but these experiences are fleeting and short-lived in my consciousness. All I really have to continually fall back on are my friends, family, acquaintances, lovers, and the continual stream of repetitive images I absorbed from a multitude of non-corporeal sources; audio-video being the dominant format in my life. All too often I've found myself caught up in that unreal world (at least in the sense of people and things I can’t actually touch).

          I started watching tennis again after a long hiatus. It took Venus, Serena and their father Richard Williams to rekindle my interest in the sport. I stopped watching tennis in the mid-80s after John McEnroe stopped being a serious competitor. I could identify with John. His screaming profanity laden tirades -- now the stuff of tennis legend and infamy -- were entertaining and refreshing to me as a kid. His direct way of speaking and urbane sarcastic sense of humor touched a chord within my emerging preteen rebellious spirit. He wasn't unique in his eruptions; Jimmy Connors already had a history of infantile outbursts and could utter a string of profanities so vulgar that they would make the proverbial sailor blush. But John reminded me a lot of my cousin "little Eric" with his curly hair and prepubescent face. He was only able to get away with this behavior because he was the best -- or almost the best at what he did. Anyone watching tennis back then would have to concede that Bjorn Borg was the best. He was a machine, no emotion, and seemingly no personality, just long arms and legs serving tennis balls with explosive force (for the time) at little Johnny-mack who had only his heart and hand speed to send those fuzzy yellow missiles back across the net. Like me, John was always the underdog.

          Competitive tennis little resembles the genteel betting sport that started in Europe during the 19th-century. Currently it is a blood sport without the blood. Anyone who's played tennis competitively knows that the object is to destroy your opponent physically and emotionally. It's more closely analogous to boxing then any other sports except maybe ancient gladiatorial combat. Just look at the haggard depleted bodies of André Agassi and Pete Sampras if you want to confirm this assertion. They're only in their 30s but their joints are pushing 50 and they're both ready for retirement. You won't see any tennis players in their 40s making comebacks like George Foreman.

          Until recently women's professional tennis had managed to hold onto the more finesse-orientated version of the sport which has all but disappeared from the men's game. The emergence of the Williams sisters signaled the death-nell for the type of game played by such players as Martina Hingis. Apparently in the world of pro tennis speed, power and athletic ability easily trumps shrewd experience, finesse and precise control.

          Richard Williams, that "trickster," saw the opening long before conceiving his two youngest daughters. It was obvious to him, as it would have been to anyone looking objectively at the women's game in the 1970s and '80s, that the national tennis circuit was not attracting top women athletes. It was attracting athletes, for the most part, only from a certain social class, a status that always marked tennis as the sport of the affluent and not the masses. This elitist attitude was perpetuated internationally by the W. T. A. (World Tennis Association), which went to great pains in maintaining this distance. But John McEnroe was the beginning of the end. Even though he came from a background of privilege, his presence in the minds of many in the association brought tennis down to the level of the gutter. I doubt that I would've started playing tennis if I had never seen John play. After he finished his professional career, Johnny-mack tried to promote tennis as an every man/woman sport in hopes of elevating the level of play overall. Suddenly the idea of inner-city children playing tennis had the well healed country club set running scared. Fortunately for them $300 graphite tennis rackets never caught on like $150 basketball shoes.

          Richard Williams was captivated by the big dollars generated in professional tennis, especially in comparison to other individual professional sports such as track and field, which several of his older children had already pursued. He was surprised by the low level of athletic ability being displayed by those at the top of the game. This combination motivated him to convince his wife Oracene to allow him to sire two more children -- or at least that's the story he's been telling the media. When I first saw him, I thought he looked like someone you see planted outside of some rundown liquor store telling stories to his buddies. He himself says that he can usually be found in the "ghetto" of whenever part of the country he happens to be in. I, like many, underestimated the man, and realize now that he wears the "mask" intended to create just that effect. It's an old technique designed to circumvent power structures.

          By the time Serena and Venus were six and seven years old respectively, he had them out playing on the only public tennis court in Compton, California. He made it fun for them -- something they wanted to do. A novel idea in the world of tennis parents who often kept their children chained to the court rowing out strokes to the drumbeats of a timekeeper, like Roman galley slaves. Starting in the '70s, most serious tennis parents had their children on the junior circuit by the time they were twelve years old. At the time it wasn't uncommon for psychologists and psychiatrists to follow the tour in order to counsel 14 and 15-year-olds for stress related disorders. Serena and Venus’ parents kept them out of junior tennis almost altogether. They encourage them to develop other interests and prepare for college. Tennis was something they did to relieve stress.

          Somehow the blueprint for creating top athletes seems to have often included overbearing parents who relentlessly push their children to focus their entire existence on whenever sport they've selected. To me it always seems like these people are trying to live out there own ambition vicariously through their children. It got to the point where gymnastics and tennis both had to institute age minimums in an effort to head off the kind of problems experienced by young athletes like Jennifer Capriati. A star in professional tennis at 15 she was all but washed up by 19. Volatile behind the scenes conflicts with her father, also her coach and business manager, were played down by the W. T. A. who pressured the media not to dwell on these incidents for the good of the sport. It was widely rumored that Capriati's father was placing enormous pressure on his daughter to improve her game, going so far as to cut her off from her friends and anything he considered a distraction from tennis. After an early round loss in the U.S. Open one year, Capriati's father was heard in a popular New York restaurant chastising his daughter for not focusing on her career. She was 17 at the time. After an emotional split with her father, Capriati's career quickly floundered. Not long after withdrawing from professional tennis she was arrested for drug possession in Miami.

          When Serena and Venus first came on the scene, commentators and writers were confronted with two players who had almost no history in the junior ranks but were immediately competitive with some of the top professional players. Apparently the sisters had been pushing their parents to let them enter pro-tournaments and finally when Venus was 14 they relented. Serena had to wait until she was 15 to begin entering major tournaments.

          Channel surfing one afternoon in 1997, I came across a tennis match, which to my surprise had a Black female playing. I was intrigued. The only Black woman I knew of playing professional tennis was Chandra Ruben, and she had only made a brief appearance in the top 10 rankings years earlier. Who was this tall dark teenager that was all over that court like a bad habit or as they were describing her "a Gezell"? Venus, I heard the name. Good name for a Black girl, I thought. Sounded like the kind of name an inner-city girl would have (straight-out the ghetto -- as they say). Soon the media picked up the buzz as Venus made it into the quarterfinals or semifinals of every tournament she entered. "Venus is her name, and she's got it, ooh baby she's got it," they started playing that old song during the highlights of her matches. Immediately tennis was back on my list of things to watch. Issues of race and gender have fascinated me since I was in high school and the whole African-American debacle in this country was one of my number one areas of interest. I had a feeling that professional tennis was about to get its dose of the race barrier salts that had been due for some time. But if not for Richard Williams the whole thing would have remained below the surface where America likes to keep these issues.

          I couldn't believe it when I heard that Venus had a little sister waiting in the wings who played tennis as well, and according to Richard she was better than Venus. While the sisters were the picture of polite grace, with what appeared to be polished media personas during their interviews, Richard played the Muhammed Ali mouth and attitude that "shook up the (tennis) world." His eccentricities included dashing out in the middle of his daughter's matches, apparently overcome by the tension, and a string of provocative remarks. While sniping among the top women players was common, Venus and Serena always politely avoided responding in kind to remarks their opponents had made about them. But Richard never hesitated to let the world know what he thought of a particular player when they criticized him or his daughter's and continually demonstrated an almost frightening self-confidence. "People call me a dog, a frog, a hoot owl, a monkey, everything else. I could care less. Because I'm happy with me. And I'll never stop loving me," said Richard, while dancing during an interview. Tennis commentators, sportscasters and sports writers were quickly all over him, criticizing Williams for not knowing anything about tennis and for plunging his daughter's into a world they hadn't been prepared for. They were perplexed by the small number of tournaments the sisters chose to enter, criticizing their apparent lack of focus on tennis. If they had played more tournaments their rankings would have risen much more quickly, it was said at the time. If they didn't get a professional coach and dump their father, they would never achieve their full potential, it was also said.

          Richard Williams’ predictions that Venus and Serena would one day be number one and number two in the world met with serious pooh-poohing; just another overzealous tennis father who was going to put the kibosh on the career of his children before it ever got started. His anti-Stepinfetchit act was like some minstrel show in reverse pulling those "white fears" and stereotypical assumptions out of the darkness. This was too good to be true. Was I the only one who saw what was happening, I thought at the time? So many issues were being raised by the Williams’ presence on the tour that media coverage and public interest started soaring in a period when television ratings for tennis had previously been at an all-time low.
One of the most troubling and disturbing aspect of all the commentary on the Williams sisters and their family were the remarks made by Chris Evert. Richard had effectively diverted most of the negative attention onto himself. Now, in retrospect I see this tactic as a beautifully calculated subversion of exactly the kind of negative attention which is almost always directed at athletes who break down barriers. His actions were, in my estimation, the actions of a protective father. But his behavior provoked a lot of people and Chris Evert, now a tennis commentator, gave some of the most unkind and blatantly biased coverage of the Williams sisters’ matches it has ever been my misfortune to witness. It wasn't clear to me whether her vehement distaste for the Venus and Serena was the indirect result of her obvious abhorrence of Richard Williams or whether she just didn't like what the sisters represented for tennis. But the result was commentary that was so derogatory with regard to Venus or Serena's ability and play that I was incensed every time I listened to her.
John McEnroe, of course, was delighted with the emergence of these two players. He would say what everyone with eyes could already see, that these two players were in the league of their own. They were beating some of the best players in the world, playing at something like 65 percent of their potential. In fact, most of their difficult matches in their early years were lost through unforced errors -- in other words they were beating themselves.

          Mainstream tennis magazines still berate McEnroe for his behavior 25 years ago and criticize his commentary, which is by far most direct, most insightful and most entertaining. This is confirmed by viewer polls that rate him the number one tennis commentator on the circuit. But his continual criticism of the W. T. A. and the tennis world in general makes him a choice target for the tennis establishment. When McEnroe commented that Serena's physical strength and conditioning surpassed many of the men on the circuit, he was swamped with an avalanche of angry protest from fans and many of the lower ranked male players who wanted to challenge Serena to a match. Many people responded as if the sisters themselves had made this statement. McEnroe took a lot of flak, finally attempting to quiet the uproar by stating that he was only joking and offering to play the sisters himself in a doubles match against he and his brother Patrick. The whole thing started reminding me of the heady days of Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs when they slugged out the battle of the sexes on the tennis court. I was really hoping for this kind of matchup but it never materialized. I guess America’s not ready to see white male athletes beaten by Black sisters/sistahs.

          Fast forward five years from the time Serena and Venus appeared on the circuit and they are ranked number one and number two in the world even though they play fewer matches than any of the other top ranked women. Apparently the sisters, who are in their early 20s now, lead well-rounded lives preferring to take time off from tennis to pursue other interests such as fashion design, which they are studying here at the Art Institute in Fort Lauderdale. Richard Williams is getting his "props" for his predictions and McEnroe who often talks with the sisters’ eccentric father continually touts the man's grasp of the game. Chris Evert finally has something good to say about Venus and Serena but still can't resist any opportunity to criticize them.

          But disturbing incidents continue to surround the sisters each year on tour. These include allegations of racial slur's from the crowd at the Indian Wells tournament in 2001 and the laughable assertion that Richard Williams is the master manipulator who decides which sister will win when they play against each other. This out-right rumor was picked up by the national and international media as if it actually had some basis in fact. There is also a continuing and noticeable snubbing by spectators at a number of tournaments that most notably occurs in the United States and especially at those deep bastions of "whitedom" like Indian Wells where the public in attendance seem willing to support anyone playing against Venus or Serena. This year at the U.S. Open Martina Navratilova commented on the New York fans that were rooting for Serena's non-American opponent in the semifinals. She pointed out that this would never happen in any other players native country but she was quick to quell the possibility that this behavior was linked to racism and attributed it to Americans taking their identification with the underdog too far. These types of statements that dismiss the possibility of racism directed at Serena and Venus have been repeated so often that they begin to affirm the opposite conclusion. Methinks they doth protest too much.

         It's interesting to note that the television ratings for matches where either sister plays, dwarf even the ratings that the top male tennis players receive. Even when they play doubles, traditionally so low rated that even cable stations seldom air them, the sisters are the most watched tennis players in the world.
According to network statistical analysis, Nielsen ratings and some Zogby polls, something between 54 and 68 percent of the viewers who watch their matches are white males between the ages of 18 and 45. While network sports analysts and commentators have been winking and nodding about the sexual appeal of Anna Kournikova for years, only recently has anyone started talking about Venus and Serena being sex symbols. It's as if no one wants to admit that these women have a sexual appeal to a broad cross-section of the male population. Only when someone comes up with statistics that show that many of the men watching the sisters matches don't watch any other tennis at all, except of course Anna Kournikova, does anyone publicly acknowledge this possibility.

          Traditional tennis commentators and magazines continue to tout Jennifer Capriati's comeback as the greatest thing to happen to tennis this decade. But this year she hasn't been competitive against either of the sisters in any of the grand slam events. I would liken this to the days when Joe Louis fought Max Schmeling for the heavyweight championship and nearly all of white America was rooting for the German fighter. Capriati seems to have become tennis’ "great white hope." But there doesn't seem to be much hope lately -- I wonder what her father is saying to her. At this point it isn't really fair to compare Venus and Serena to any of the other players on the circuit because their athletic ability is so far beyond the other athletes. If Kobe Bryant had been brought up playing tennis instead of basketball, Sampras and Agassi would be facing a similar dilemma.

          Celebrities who haven’t been traditional tennis fans have started frequenting Williams matches from Australia to Wimbledon to Miami. An eclectic mix of singers, actors and even public intellectuals and writers have shown up to support Venus and Serena. So far I've spotted Brandy, Dionne Warwick, Whitney Houston, Sydney Poitier, Forest Whitaker, Cornell West, Bell Hooks, Toni Morrison as well as a whole host of rappers, NBA and NFL players, all with decidedly dark faces doting those seas of white.

          The most disturbing aspect I see in the rise of the Williams sisters is something that seems to be going unquestioned. Much has been made of the difficulty Venus and Serena have playing each other. It's one of the few valid criticisms that have been put forward. It's apparent to anyone who's watched them play one another over the last five years that they have a great deal of difficulty playing their best games in these situations -- even though they've often denied having a problem with this. Early in their professional career this was especially evident in matches that were far sloppier then those they played against other opponents.

          Describing this as a failing in their play exposes what I would characterize as a failing in our society. Venus and Serena are very close. Just watching them together in doubles matches or clowning around in between matches like typical teenagers it's apparent that they have a great deal of affection and respect for each other. It's also apparent that they are having a great deal of fun. It seems that in most of professional sports, fun, has long ago fallen by the wayside. After all sports is serious business right? These Games have so much riding on them that they demand to be taken seriously. It's amazing how much bad feeling, anger and stress they evoke in everyone from the people watching to the players. For me watching college football is extremely stressful, so much so that I often tape games and only watched them if the results are favorable to the team I support. I may get some satisfaction from the win, but most of the time I'm definitely not enjoying myself. It's a real pleasure to watch Venus and Serena play together in doubles, it seems so natural, and I get off on watching them have a ball. But when they play singles matches, I'm so invested in seeing them win that it becomes a stress filled event. Neither of them appears to be enjoying the game either. They, like myself, just seem to express relief that they've been able to move on to the next round.
When Serena beat Venus in the Wimbledon final this year, Venus’ disappointment was evident. She had won the most coveted title in tennis the previous two years and this would have made a record-breaking three in a row. But just before Serena received the winner's trophy, Venus disappeared into the crowd to find her mother and retrieve the family camera. She quickly returned and proceeded to join the crowd of photographers who were taking Serena's picture and started snapping off her own memories. That bond between them tempers every win they have over each other.

          In 2000 when Venus played Serena in the U.S. Open final, Serena was not doing well and it was affecting Venus’ play to the point where she was easing up on her little sister. This kind of behavior is nearly unheard of in professional sports and it's extremely confusing to a society that assumes "winning is everything." Whenever one sister defeats the other in a major final there's none of the jumping or rejoicing you see when they defeat another opponent. The feeling of disappointment is palpable even for television viewers. It's an extremely unsatisfying feeling for me as a fan of both sisters. I don't take any of the satisfaction I get from seeing them defeat other opponents. I must imagine that this feeling is magnified for their family members who always have conflicted looks on their faces during the matches, and even more so for the sisters themselves. The idea of losing has such an overriding power in our society that it overshadows the fact that one of the sisters did win. In a very palpable sense these matches become no-win scenarios for everyone. This leads me to question the things I have internalizes about winning from our society.

          It seems to me that the connection between these two sisters, who live together and have played tennis against each other their whole lives, is the kind of connection more human beings desperately need. I find it sadly interesting that so many people view this relationship as merely an impediment to the best possible tennis match. Maybe it's time we started questioning whether becoming "the best" or "the winner" or even focusing on a specific goal to the exclusion of all else is healthy or even morally right. Especially when we start proposing to dismantle the things that make life worth living. It's often been suggested that Venus and Serena should break as a doubles couple, find different partners to train with and move into separate houses so that they can be more competitive tennis players against each other. I wonder if the people making these proposals really realize what they're suggesting.
For the sake of providing a more competitive game we would like you to turn away from someone you love and try to distance yourself from them. Your reward for this sacrifice is, in the end, you will know that whoever comes out on top is the best.
Boiled down to this, it doesn't sound very appealing to me. I'm getting visions of the Roman mob screaming for the last two surviving gladiator's to slaughter each other. It's thumbs down and kill! kill!! kill!!! Just for our satisfaction.

          We continually tout the importance of family in our culture, but it seems that when we are confronted with a truly strong family structure, it’s rather frightening for us. People that approach life on their own terms are a puzzle, much like the idea of freedom, which we also put forward as such an integral part of the American psyche and culture. But when we are confronted with people who are truly free we feel threatened -- or maybe it's envy.
It seems that the kind of balance and harmony Venus and Serena have found in their lives speaks volumes about the kind of upbringing their parents have given them. Why doesn't the strength of their family resonate more profoundly with us? They would seem to be the perfect example of those strong bonds that are such an essential part of human success and happiness. It is not in single goals or achievements where we find these things but in the continual recreation and maintenance of relationships with the people who are closest to us.

          Tennis after all is a game and like all games a reflection of life. But the underlying idea of every game is play, and through play we derive enjoyment, and through enjoyment we find happiness. Sounds like a simple concept but it seems all too easy to let our lives loss that sense of play and with it the enjoyment and finally happiness slips away and we are left wondering what was the point of the game in the first place. I hope Dr. Adams is having fun wherever he is.