For a player of Serena Williams’ rank—No. 1 again, now that
the dust has settled on 2009—and importance, there’s
never been much talk about exactly what makes her game special. We discuss the ways in which Roger Federer uses his crosscourt backhand chip, and we know that Rafael Nadal can
drill an ace up the T when his opponent least expects it. But what about
Serena? We know she’s fast, we know she’s fierce, we know she’s got the best serve in the WTA. While those are crucial traits for any champion, we also know that an
11-time Grand Slam winner must bring something a little more distinctive
to the court.
Part of the problem is that Williams doesn’t always show us
the best, let alone the most distinctive, elements of her game. Even when she
wins a major, she’ll throw in a clunker against a lesser opponent that makes
you wonder how she ever won all those Slams in the first place. But that wasn’t
the case this past week in Doha. Williams won 10 of the 11 sets she played, and
she got better as she went. Even though she’d already qualified for the semis,
Williams trounced Elena Dementieva in her last round-robin match. In the final,
she took her sister Venus out of her game right from the start. There’s
something satisfying in watching an all-time great at her best and most
determined, with all distractions cleared away.
It was a satisfying performance—the “real No. 1” took home
the WTA’s biggest title—and an eye-opening one as well. Or, I should say, it
was an eye-narrowing performance. That’s what Serena did all afternoon as she
rocked back and forth before receiving her sister’s serve. In the past, she’s
been known to betray disgust with herself, or throw a choice word in her
opponent’s direction, as she glares across the net. On Sunday, though, Serena
betrayed nothing but calmly forceful resolve. She wanted this one, and she
started getting it right away.
It used to be said of Pete Sampras that he was a master at
taking his opponents out of their games early. Serena did the same to Venus in
the first set. She’d start by hitting a wide serve into the deuce court
that left Venus flailing and out of position. Then she’d follow it up by going
at Venus’ body and handcuffing her, a smart play against someone with limbs
that long. It was a serving clinic from Serena in the end. She finished with no
double faults and won an astounding 82 percent of her second-serve points—that’s
dominance, and it put an exclamation point, if one were needed, on what raised her above her all of her competition this year.
As the set progressed, Serena started to do the same with
her returns, taking them earlier and earlier and leaving Venus with nothing to
do but scramble for her life. Venus couldn’t save herself; she started to press
and she started to miss. At first glance, watching her pull routine shots wide or rifle them
into the net, it appeared that Venus was simply having an off day. But Serena
had rattled her and forced to try for more than she normal does. The problem for Venus
is that, unlike most of her opponents, Serena is just as good at retrieving as
she is, and she’s a better attacker. This is part of the
explanation for why their matches have been marked by spotty play; they get to balls that would be winners against other players. More important, it also puts
Venus in a bind; she has try to out-attack Serena. By the end of the first set,
Serena knew that all she had to do was play safely and steadily, keep Venus moving,
and direct most of the balls to her sister's more erratic forehand.
Venus found her range from the ground in the second set and
held serve without much trouble. She had the upper hand in many of the rallies,
and it was Serena who began to find the net. This time it was Serena’s
competitive will, as much as her shots, that pulled her through. When she
needed a strong serve, she got it; despite Venus’ improved play, she never held a break point. The strongest and most important of Serena’s serves
came at 5-4 in the tiebreaker. The two had changed sides with Serena up 5-1 and
the match seemingly in hand. Then she made three backhand errors, her worst
streak of play all day. Could Serena get a case of the yips? If she
did, she didn’t show it. The look on her
face after her final miss was not one of anger or exasperation; it was one of benign concern, of a wrong she needed to
make right. And she did, with an authoritative ace to make it 6-4—you could see
Venus’ back slump after the ball went past her—and a fearless crosscourt forehand at match point. Serena’s celebration was in keeping with her demeanor day.
She was outwardly muted—the sisters’ didn’t embrace at the net—but
there was deep relief all over her face. It had been satisfying to see her
play this match, and it was satisfying afterward to see how much she wanted it.
So back to my first question: What’s special about Serena’s
game? There are many elements you could point to, of course, but what struck me
in Doha was how the normal rules of the sport don’t seem to apply to her. She
can run through an approach shot and still put it right where she wants it. She can
hit a backhand winner with her body completely open and parallel to the net. She can make perfectly solid contact with a ball even she's off balance. She can get to a short ball a
second late and find a way to flip it inside-out for a surprisingly
angled winner.
Her ability to do this is generally chalked up to the vague and
faintly insulting term “athleticism.” And that’s got a lot to do with it, even
if it is a cliché. It was said that Boris Becker couldn’t put two service
tosses in a row anywhere near each other, but it didn’t matter, he was such an
athlete that he just went up and crushed the ball, wherever it happened to
be—the normal rules didn’t apply to him. But when it comes to the Williamses, I
also think of something Andy Roddick said about the way the sisters trained as kids in Florida. He said that no one worked more
diligently or hit balls with more purpose or dedication than they did. What seems like talent or god-given athleticism in a top player is
always the product of work as well, work that was done long before we saw that
player on TV. Serena is still living off of it. Whatever position she finds herself in as she sets up for a shot, her ability to make something out of it, to hit the
ball well, remains automatic.
The 2009 season came down to the Williams sisters, and it
came down to Serena. She won two majors, and for the first time since 2001 was at her best at the Sony Ericsson Championships. This may not happen in
2010, when Justine and Kim and Maria are back at full strength—let’s hope
Serena can bring this kind of game into the new year. Back in January, at the
Australian Open, she had put on an even more dominating performance in the
final against Dinara Safina. By the end of that match, as effortless winners
came off Williams’ racquet, Mary Carillo asked with some exasperation, “Why
can’t I have more of this?” After a week of wild and painful drama in Doha, I
found myself thinking the same thing about women’s tennis in general. Why can’t
we have more serves like this? Why can’t we have more solid and
impressive tennis? Maybe we will next year.
Until then, I’m happy to leave 2009 with a reminder, six weeks after she was at her worst at the U.S. Open, of how good the women's game can look when Serena Williams is at her best.
