Lizzy Goodman
WASHINGTON: Late last month, Serena Williams, 44, played her first professional singles match in nearly four years, losing a competitive three-setter at Wimbledon against Maya Joint.
It was later revealed that Williams had tweaked her right knee, preventing her from playing doubles with her sister Venus. Yet, expectations are already building for her return at the US Open this fall.
It was a short comeback, but I watched every minute. I needed it, even if she didn’t win.
Like many rabid tennis fans, I’d been following her return with obsessive attention, watching interviews offering the same nonchalant explanation of why, with 23 Grand Slam singles titles and 319 weeks at No. 1, she’d casually dip her toe back into professional tennis.
“Well, it’s summer. The kids aren’t in school, so it’s a perfect time to get out there — just have fun and see what happens,” she said. “I don’t have anything to prove.”
As thrilling as it’s been lately to be a New Yorker in Knicks land, Williams does something more specific: She makes me want to show up for myself. This feeling grew during the final act of her career, beginning around her 2017 maternity leave — after winning the Australian Open while two months pregnant — when she spoke openly about the unfair cost she paid to start a family versus her male peers.
My affection grew when she returned in 2018 and advocated for rule changes, making it easier for tennis moms to return. It solidified when she admitted her heart desired one final major title to tie Margaret Court’s record of 24 — and then I watched as she made consecutive major finals in 2018 and 2019, lost them both, and finally began “evolving away” from tennis in 2022.
“Believe me, I never wanted to have to choose between tennis and a family,” she wrote in a Vogue essay announcing her retirement. “If I were a guy, I wouldn’t be writing this because I’d be out there playing and winning while my wife was doing the physical labour of expanding our family.” It felt like she left something on the table.
The scene I replay most often is Williams consoling a heartbroken Naomi Osaka after the controversial 2018 US Open final. Williams had been penalised a game after a dispute with the umpire, yet her post-match exchange with Osaka was a master class in class.
Her face captured a woman in her own emotional storm, willing herself to set it aside to right the ship for a bewildered young phenom who had just defeated her idol. It’s the face of a woman who showed up even though she’d really rather not.
Showing up when you’d rather not seems to be a hallmark of adulthood.
The passing of time is a narrowing device. You’re not young anymore; doors close. I made choices, and I’m living them, mostly contentedly. But do I have to be graceful about it? Do I have to act as if I don’t miss the freedom and the permission to be reckless?
I’ve dealt with fertility anxiety, parental health issues, and losing my best friend to cancer. I miss the levity of youth, but I want to be me now. Still, I don’t want to feel that embracing accountability means surrendering my sense of future possibility. Is the middle stretch of life just a long, duty-bound drain toward old age?
No way, says Williams.
Almost as inspiring as seeing her hit 120-mile-per-hour serves was observing her response to having the thrill of competition snatched away by her knee injury. “Thank you to the fans for making this comeback so meaningful,” she wrote on Instagram alongside a photo of syringes full of fluid drained from her knee. “All I can say is stay tuned to a city near you.”
It’s easy to express desire when you’re young. It’s much harder when you’ve already done great things, and the cost of trying feels so much higher.
When Williams stepped onto the court at Wimbledon, she might have been “playing for fun,” but she was also making a statement about what’s possible. As she wrote in Vogue, “My sister Venus once said that when someone out there says you can’t do something, it is because they can’t do it. But I did do it. And so can you.” Who am I to argue with the GOAT?