| | | My friend Stacey calls from San Francisco. It's Day One of the U.S. Open. Her calls at the start of the tournament are as punctual as Christmas.
|  | | Venus Williams -- a fresh voice for tennis, or just fresh? |
We played tennis together in college at Drexel University. That was about a decade ago, when a successful teenage girl needed three things: a looping topspin forehand, a Prince Pro, a pair of FootJoys.
We were so low-maintenance.
Stace and I talk about Martina Hingis' comments regarding the Williams sisters and race. Hingis was quoted in Time Magazine as saying Venus and Serena Williams get certain advantages, because they are black. When asked to explain, Hingis tells the world that is her opinion and (my paraphrase) we should all get over it. Welcome to the 2001 U.S. Women's Open!
Former NFL player Sterling Sharpe was sitting at the "Monday Night Countdown" set -- right next to the SportsCenter set -- when I reported Hingis' latest lip flap. He was speechless.
Think about that.
While the Swiss Miss was charming the nation with her sociological insights, I was being asked to review "Venus Envy," a recently published book by Sports Illustrated writer L. Jon Wertheim.
"Venus Envy, like penis envy?" Stace asks me in a rhetorical question. "Nice title. Does he explain how the players keep their breasts in those halter dresses and tank tops?" (Hey, guys, ever wonder what girls talk about when there are no men around?)
I couldn't really say, having just picked up the book. But guessing from the title and back cover that features a shot of Anna Kournikova's butt cheek, Wertheim just might have.
Before I get to work on my review, Stace takes off on the halter top outfits worn today and cracks up remembering the '70s running suits that were still in use at Drexel when we arrived. She swears the same sweats are sold at Old Navy today.
I promise to call if the book is a "winner." Stace laughs. She's easy.
|  | | One of Wertheim's best anecdotes is about Martina Hingis and her father. |
"Venus Envy, A Sensational Season Inside the Women's Tennis Tour" begins with a bit of foreshadowing to the end of the 2000 season. Venus Williams had just won her second consecutive major, last year's U.S. Open. She's taking a phone call from President Clinton and doesn't care for happy talk. Venus, still holding court, wants to know about her taxes, Hillary and -- most importantly -- why the president left the match early. I remember this scene. It was fresh. She was confident. Or, as my mom might have said, Venus was fresh.
One thing is certain: Between the beginning of the book and its conclusion, Venus changed. Profoundly.
The year before, while watching her little sister, Serena, win the 1999 U.S. Open, Venus was anything but sassy. Everyone remembers the cameras cutting constantly to a defeated-looking Venus so often during the women's final you'd think she was a coach's wife during the NCAA Tournament. Her abject presence in the stands during the 1999 Open and her total command of the tournament in 2000 -- and its aftermath -- serve as the bookends to Wertheim's yearlong chronology of the WTA Tour.
I'm barely settled on my couch with the book when I'm already rolling my eyes. "The luminaries of women's tennis are surnameless," Wertheim writes on Page 5. "Mention Venus, Serena, Martina, Anna, Lindsay, Monica and Mary on virtually any street corner in the world and most people will know we're talking tennis." What?!? Mary? I'm thinking about a woman with a bit more power and pull upstairs. Monica? More troubling Clinton phone calls. Wertheim says it's hard to exaggerate the force of these players' personalities. But he has managed just that.
Thankfully, Wertheim soon calms down and turns into a reporter. He introduces these characters as they arrive at the first big event of the year -- the Australian Open. Think of a "Breakfast Club" where the misfits' parents also attend detention. Wertheim paints a clear picture, complete with the popular and social jock (Lindsay Davenport); the smart girl who tries too hard (Martina Hingis); the sexpot (Anna Kournikova) and the intimidating outsider (Serena Williams). Venus is not there.
Wertheim is lucky. He doesn't have to create characters, merely describe them. These players, like all people, are more complicated than the labels placed on them. Wertheim has a great eye for details and mannerisms, and he does give the players depth.
For example, he describes Davenport's "cool table." Mary Jo Fernandez, who is married to Davenport's agent, is there and so is Pam Shriver, who's almost two decades older than Hingis. From the description, Hingis sounds like a envious freshman watching the seniors in school. And that's not far off.
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I can remember how nervous I was at my first USTA event. It was not the play but the parents and cliques ruling the tournaments that shook me. And I, at least, looked like the other kids. I can only imagine how difficult it has been for the Williams sisters to penetrate this closed world, and what effect that effort has cost them. |
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Hingis is young. I was reminded of that last spring, when Hingis was at ESPN for a commercial shoot. We happened to sit down in the makeup trailer at the same time. In the span of eight minutes, we talked about a fancy underwear store, Kournikova's mom and the boyfriend who had given Hingis the beautiful piece of jewelry she was
wearing. She was funny and talked non-stop ... like most happy 19-year-olds.
I smiled and laughed and thought to myself she's so young. Her mom was not with her in the trailer and stayed in the background during the shoot. Hingis was game for all the director's ideas and played along when Kenny Mayne improvised. Not a single "diva fit" to report.
Unfortunately, on a number of occasions, Wertheim relies on rehashed quotes and stories to describe players and dramatic situations, including: Monica Seles' trauma following her stabbing and her father's death; Anna's relationships with Sergei Fedorov and Pavel Bure; Lindsay's weight loss and confidence gain; Mary Pierce's abusive father. This is disappointing, though not entirely surprising. Several players, no doubt, did not grant interviews for a book that would pay them nothing. He had to use something and couldn't just omit critical events and stories.
So, if you're in search of fresh Kournikova copy, look elsewhere. Her quotes are recycled press conference interviews. I realized, after reading this book, that we never hear Kournikova talk at length. Still, Wertheim's best line is about Kournikova. Of Kournikova's Wimbledon adventure -- which consisted of two matches -- he writes, "(She) played unimaginative tennis and froze like a lawn ornament during key points." Nasty, but a perfect description of her game and mental toughness, or lack thereof, on the court.
Because of all the rehashing, Wertheim's fresh material really stands out. The best interview is with the Williams sisters' mom, Oracene. She offers a rare inside glimpse at the "us-vs.-them" attitude surrounding the Williams camp. Although wacky Richard Williams' antics are described at length, Oracene's words and her calming influence over Venus and Serena is a side we rarely hear about and never see.
|  | | "Venus Envy" by L. Jon Wertheim. |
This part of the book was particularly interesting to me. I played several years of indoor tennis at the Arthur Ashe Youth Tennis Center in Philadelphia. I taught tennis at public parks and playgrounds, as well. Tennis, after all, is a sport not a privilege. I can remember how nervous I was at my first USTA event. It was not the play but the parents and cliques ruling the tournaments that shook me. And I, at least, looked like the other kids. I can only imagine how difficult it has been for the sisters to penetrate this closed world, and what effect that effort had on them.
The Williamses have a steely exterior. John McEnroe once called it, "A lack of humility," which is kind of ironic, considering the source. Is this a protective survival mechanism? Maybe that will change if they ever join the tour full-time. Richard might threaten us with his daughters' imminent retirement, but, I get the sense this is just the beginning. They like winning too much.
In "Venus Envy," players have opinions about everyone's game, mother and boyfriend. But with the exception of one reported spat between Hingis and Kournikova, it's all just talk. Some 134 pages in, Martina Navratilova explains best why, although these characters are interesting individuals, their relationships lack drama: "Everyone has their own coach, so players don't hang together and there isn't the interaction." Navratilova calls it "isolationism."
Davenport said as much after her first-round victory at this year's U.S. Open. She said the top players were all business, especially during the first week. Davenport said they come in, take care of business and go home. Nothing too sexy there.
I met Davenport in August 1998, mere weeks away from her victory at the U.S. Open. I asked her about the Williams sisters. She told me she didn't take it personally when the sisters talked about being No. 1 someday. The sisters are confident, I remember Davenport saying. She wished that she had been as proud of her height while a teenager.
During that interview Lindsay never got petty, and at the same time she never offered a canned response. The Lindsay Davenports of the sports world are rare. She also said Jennifer Capriati was her hero and could still really hit the ball (remember, this was 1998). Lindsay pulled then -- and I'm sure does today -- for Capriati but would beat her, if she needed to.
Nothing personal.
Despite its shortcomings, there are fascinating stories in this book.
For example, prior to the 2000 French Open, Hingis returned to her motherland, the former Czechoslovakia. Wertheim tells of Hingis' move to Switzerland with her mother. Her father, a former great Slovak player, stayed behind.
Karol Hingis, Wertheim writes, has the same green eyes and high cheek bones as his daughter. He lives with his mother and tends to a few clay courts for $250 a month. He wears worn tennis shoes and receives little financial help from Martina. But, he does have a satellite dish so he can follow her career. The father does not give interviews because Martina has asked him not to. But friends of the family tell Wertheim that father and daughter have drifted apart.
On this spring visit, however, Wertheim reports that Hingis joined her Dad for a jog. When asked about the encounter Martina says it was great to see her Dad, but he will not join her on the tour. "The fewer people around you, the fewer people to take care of, the better." Wertheim tells us throughout the book that Hingis is a mix of fierce competitor and silly school girl. But this passage explains best how complicated Hingis and her life are. This struggle is far more interesting then a catfight.
Likewise, Wertheim tells of Althea Gibson, the 1957 Wimbledon champ, watching Venus' triumph at the All-England Club. Gibson is in her 70s now and lives on a modest
income. Because of a degenerative disease, she doesn't much resemble the player that fans remember. Gibson doesn't often leave her house, but according to her assistant is very alert mentally and takes very seriously her role as a pioneer.
Gibson watched Williams' victory on her 48-inch TV. When the match ended Gibson called her assitant and said according to Wertheim, "I told you: it's their time now." Then the frail woman toasted Williams with a glass of ginger ale. Wertheim writes, "After fortysome lonesome years, Gibson at last had company." It's a scene out of a movie. His
description is simple and honest. Like Hingis' trip to see her father, I wish the book told me more.
|  | | Wertheim describes Anna Kournikova's game as "unimaginative" as she "froze like a lawn ornament during key points." |
I decide to mail my copy to Stacey.
In the final analysis, I would suggest book buyers not judge this book by its cover -- and that's a good thing. It's not all gossip and sensationalism. Far from it. Plus, Venus was not even on the Tour for nearly half the 2000 season, because of tendinitis in her wrists. Nonetheless, 2000 was Venus' breakout season. She won two majors, two Olympic gold medals, got a $40 million endorsement deal from Reebok and attained the confidence needed to be a champion.
Wertheim offers a collection of notes that will serve as useful reference once Venus commits herself to tennis full-time. If she lives up to her potential, 2000 was just her coming-out party. There will be many more glasses of ginger ale raised in Venus' honor.
There's one other problem with reading this book now, which is that 2001 has been at least as interesting as 2000 on the WTA Tour, and a lot more prominent in the average fan's thoughts. "The Year of Jen's Revenge" -- now that should make a good sequel.
In a way, Wertheim's a victim of his own exciting topic -- the fast-moving, forever-evolving game of women's tennis. One must move at the pace of a Steffi Graf to keep up with these ladies. He's already so yesterday. Like the warmup suits we had to wear at school.
Now, that would have made Stace laugh.
SportsCenter anchor Chris McKendry is a regular columnist for Page 2.
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