They’re Tennis’ Power Couple

First there was the power of an idea, the idea that two African-American girls from Compton could become the most powerful force in women’s tennis. There was the power of a family, of a mother and a father who never let the doubters cause them to waver from their dream, and of the daughters who understood the dream and wanted to make the dream a reality.

There was always the power of the smiles of Venus and Serena Williams, two big, bright smiles. And there is the power of their strong bodies, minds, hearts and the strong bond of friendship and admiration that ties them, always, even when they have to look at each other across a tennis net, stare at each other on the biggest tennis stage in the country and try to hurt each other with the power of their shots.

What we saw Saturday night on the Arthur Ashe Stadium court was how the power of sport in a country where it’s possible to have such an outlandish idea, where it’s possible to believe that two little girls playing tennis with flat balls on an uneven court mottled with broken bottles and broken dreams, can culminate in a burst of fireworks and firepower.

Ultimately on this history-making night, when two African-American sisters met to determine the 2001 U.S. Open champion, it was most of all about the power of the big sister, Venus, who beat the little sister, Serena, and proved herself the best female tennis player in the world. The computer rankings won’t have Venus on top, but who ever trusted computers anyway? It took 21-year-old Venus 1 hour 9 minutes to subdue 19-year-old Serena, 6-2, 6-4. It was Venus’ fourth Grand Slam title among the last six played and her second U.S. Open championship. Serena also owns a U.S. Open winner’s trophy. These two women are the most important and influential female athletes in the country now.

This was not an easy night for them. The pomp and circumstance were special, but on the court were two lonely young women who both wanted to win but didn’t want their opponent to lose. After Serena hit a backhand into the net, her final, unforced error, there was a collective intake of breath and subdued applause. Venus put her arm around Serena and said, “We still love each other, right?”

“I don’t exactly feel like I’ve won,” Venus said afterward. “If I was playing a different opponent I’d be a lot more joyful.”

Maybe later, Venus will understand the power of the joy she and Serena brought to a tennis crowd more suited to a Hollywood premiere than a Queens tennis court. Maybe later Venus and Serena will understand that by their appearance on this championship night, they brought hope to little girls who must play on cement courts with no lights and sagging nets, weeds growing in the cracks and holes in the fences.

Venus and Serena have shown little girls in big cities, little girls with big dreams from families with small bank accounts that there is another way to be a great tennis player. You don’t have to spend thousands of dollars traveling to junior tournaments. A daughter doesn’t have to be shipped away to a tennis academy.

This is, of course, what Richard Williams planned all along.

Richard, the family patriarch, has called others names and been called names, has made ridiculous accusations and statements, has played the fool, the hero, the nemesis, the bad guy, the dumb guy, the smart guy, but always he has played a single, unending tune.

That tune has been played to the thump, thump, thump of the powerful ground strokes of his two daughters. If he made mistakes, he and his wife, Oracene, also raised two champions who are creating a revolution in women’s tennis. It was no small thing that a Harlem gospel choir was rocking the crowd half an hour before this first-ever prime-time women’s championship.

Venus and Serena are not about tradition. Tradition isn’t always good. It was not fair that Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe never felt accepted by the tennis elite or the sporting public. That was tradition.

Venus and Serena Williams have earned, with their ability and their personality, an evening where they were the queens of tennis, where no one but them mattered.

Last March Serena and Venus were booed at a tournament in Indian Wells. Minutes before a semifinal against Serena, Venus had withdrawn with a knee injury. The circumstances seemed suspect, especially when Venus won a tournament the next week. Paying fans felt cheated. The family--the sisters and Richard, who had been accused of orchestrating results of matches between the daughters--was almost universally criticized after Richard called those fans racist. The wonder of sports is that there are always second chances.

Since March Richard has stayed in the background. He said he would not be at the Open Saturday and he was not seen. Venus and Serena have been summertime sweethearts, burying any braggadocio and, after every match, complimenting opponents and rivals. They seem to have taken the ugliness of Indian Wells and turned it into a lesson learned.

Saturday night, a crowd roared in anticipation and approval. The match wasn’t always of the highest quality, though Venus was, at times, spectacular. Maybe, when the sisters play each other, it never can be. But no one doubted the two had tried their hardest.

Venus was happy with her win and sad for her sister, and the paying public seemed to understand. When Venus spoke to the crowd, she said, “I always want Serena to win. She’s the little sister. I take care of Serena and make sure she has everything even if I don’t have anything.” Serena brushed away a tear. “Venus was so sincere,” Serena said. “That really touches one and it was making me pretty emotional.”

It was a night for powerful emotions. All of the people who believe in the power of sport, of hard work, of family, of belief in yourself, could laugh and cry together on the court named for a man who understood that sport can be a great unifying force.

Ashe would have been proud.

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Diane Pucin can be reached at diane.pucin@latimes.com.