Tweet
The Difference a Day Makes Posted 09/14/2009 @ 1 :22 AM
Twenty-four hours earlier, Arthur Ashe Stadium had been the stage for a scandalous and disgraceful scene, with Serena Williams, the defending U.S. Open champion, departing the court in defeat and ignominy. Sunday evening, the negative reverberations of that ugly incident were replaced by genuine warmth, broad smiles and happy tears. Belgium’s Kim Clijsters had just defeated Caroline Wozniacki in the U.S. Open final, but there were no contentious feelings in the aftermath of their one-hour, 34-minute match. Instead, the finalists took turns complimenting each other’s games and personalities—“she’s such a good girl,” the affable Wozniacki said of the universally liked Clijsters during on-court post-match interviews. Then just when you thought things couldn’t get any fuzzier, Clijsters’ impossibly adorable 18-month-old daughter started toddling around the baseline, her strawberry blond curls reflected in the silver trophy her mother had just won.
The Clijsters story is a remarkable one. She won her first major title at the 2005 U.S. Open, but after struggling with injury and burnout, retired in the spring of 2007. The next two years were eventful: she married the American Brian Lynch, a former Villanova hoopster; gave birth to daughter Jada; and lost her father to lung cancer. It was only last month that Clijsters, 26, returned to competitive tennis; the U.S. Open was just her third tournament back. Unranked, she needed a wild card from tournament organizers to enter the Open, her first since she won here four years ago. Now Clijsters is the first wild card in the history of women’s tennis to win a Grand Slam title, and the first mother to claim a major since Evonne Goolagong won Wimbledon in 1980.
Over the past two weeks, Clijsters has shown all her old familiar power and athleticism, plus a new poise and perspective that come partially, she says, from being a parent. Though she admits she still gets extremely nervous in big moments, she’s now less susceptible to collapsing. In her remarkable run through the draw here, Clijsters beat Venus Williams in the fourth round and Serena Williams in the semis. But the Belgian never got to celebrate the achievement of besting Serena, the best player on the planet, on Saturday. The circumstances under which their semifinal ended denied Clijsters her triumphant moment.
Over the past decade, I’ve covered five Olympics and dozens of international sporting events, but I’ve never before witnessed anything like the ugly scene that transpired on Arthur Ashe Saturday evening. At a critical juncture in what had been a highly compelling and high-quality women’s semifinal, an unfortunate call precipitated the most notorious incident in the stadium’s history. Serena Williams, the defending champion, was serving to stay in the match when she was called for a foot fault on a second serve, thus giving her opponent, Clijsters, a match point. A furious Williams unleashed a vicious tirade on the lineswoman who had made the foot fault call and was subsequently assessed a point penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct. Because the penalty came on match point, the match was over, and Serena was out of the tournament.
Serena may have been justified in going beserk, but it was the nature of her outburst that was troubling. In a statement Sunday, Stacey Allaster, the chairman and CEO of the WTA Tour, called Serena’s behavior “inappropriate and unprofessional”—inadequate condemnation of behavior that was, in reality, frightening and appalling.
Yes, the foot fault call was bogus and ill-timed. Whether or not Serena’s foot actually skimmed the line—replays were inconclusive—you can’t call a foot fault on a second serve at 15-30, 5-6 in the second set of a Grand Slam semifinal. Unless it’s a blatant violation (and in this case, it wasn’t), you just can’t make that call. Going ballistic was the appropriate reaction. If I had been in her situation, I’d have had an absolute meltdown—screaming, crying, cursing, smashing racquets, and generally throwing a you-have-to-be-kidding-me tantrum on the court.
But there was something different and, honestly, a little scary, about Serena’s response. It wasn’t just that she was livid; it was as if she had lost her mind. More disturbing than the profanity-laden vitriol she directed at the lineswoman was the menacing body language that accompanied it. I was seated in the media section, about 30 rows back directly behind the lineswoman, so I witnessed Serena’s tirade from the same head-on vantage point as the judge herself. Serena’s outburst was intimidating: her eyes bulged as she brandished her racquet pointedly and menacingly. I couldn’t hear the words that poured out of her mouth (“I swear to God, I’ll [expletive] take this ball and shove it down your [expletive] throat,” was the most malicious line in the profane tirade, I learned afterwards) but I could see the fury in Serena’s face and the hostility in her aggressive posture. It was a shocking and dreadful scene.
The ending of that semifinal is a blight on the image of Williams, an 11-time major champion, as well as the game itself. But another unfortunate result of the match’s contentious ending was that it denied Clijsters the moment of triumph she deserved. She cried tears of joy and disbelief after having ousted Venus in the fourth round; imagine what her match point celebration could have been against Serena.
Fortunately, Clijsters got to celebrate an even sweeter victory the next night in the final. The last point of Clijsters’ match against Wozniacki was decided by play, not by penalty. The Belgian finished championship point with an emphatic overhead, and then fell to her knees, her face in her hands, overwhelmed by what she’d accomplished. A month after returning to tennis, she was the U.S. Open champion. As the crowd celebrated her achievement, a weeping Clijsters climbed up to the stands to hug her husband. Where a day earlier we’d seen venom and vitriol, we were now witnessing a joyous family reunion.
Twenty-four hours earlier, Arthur Ashe Stadium had been the stage for a scandalous and disgraceful scene, with Serena Williams, the defending U.S. Open champion, departing the court in defeat and ignominy. Sunday evening, the negative reverberations of that ugly incident were replaced by genuine warmth, broad smiles and happy tears. Belgium’s Kim Clijsters had just defeated Caroline Wozniacki in the U.S. Open final, but there were no contentious feelings in the aftermath of their one-hour, 34-minute match. Instead, the finalists took turns complimenting each other’s games and personalities—“she’s such a good girl,” the affable Wozniacki said of the universally liked Clijsters during on-court post-match interviews. Then just when you thought things couldn’t get any fuzzier, Clijsters’ impossibly adorable 18-month-old daughter started toddling around the baseline, her strawberry blond curls reflected in the silver trophy her mother had just won.
The Clijsters story is a remarkable one. She won her first major title at the 2005 U.S. Open, but after struggling with injury and burnout, retired in the spring of 2007. The next two years were eventful: she married the American Brian Lynch, a former Villanova hoopster; gave birth to daughter Jada; and lost her father to lung cancer. It was only last month that Clijsters, 26, returned to competitive tennis; the U.S. Open was just her third tournament back. Unranked, she needed a wild card from tournament organizers to enter the Open, her first since she won here four years ago. Now Clijsters is the first wild card in the history of women’s tennis to win a Grand Slam title, and the first mother to claim a major since Evonne Goolagong won Wimbledon in 1980.
Over the past two weeks, Clijsters has shown all her old familiar power and athleticism, plus a new poise and perspective that come partially, she says, from being a parent. Though she admits she still gets extremely nervous in big moments, she’s now less susceptible to collapsing. In her remarkable run through the draw here, Clijsters beat Venus Williams in the fourth round and Serena Williams in the semis. But the Belgian never got to celebrate the achievement of besting Serena, the best player on the planet, on Saturday. The circumstances under which their semifinal ended denied Clijsters her triumphant moment.
Over the past decade, I’ve covered five Olympics and dozens of international sporting events, but I’ve never before witnessed anything like the ugly scene that transpired on Arthur Ashe Saturday evening. At a critical juncture in what had been a highly compelling and high-quality women’s semifinal, an unfortunate call precipitated the most notorious incident in the stadium’s history. Serena Williams, the defending champion, was serving to stay in the match when she was called for a foot fault on a second serve, thus giving her opponent, Clijsters, a match point. A furious Williams unleashed a vicious tirade on the lineswoman who had made the foot fault call and was subsequently assessed a point penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct. Because the penalty came on match point, the match was over, and Serena was out of the tournament.
Serena may have been justified in going beserk, but it was the nature of her outburst that was troubling. In a statement Sunday, Stacey Allaster, the chairman and CEO of the WTA Tour, called Serena’s behavior “inappropriate and unprofessional”—inadequate condemnation of behavior that was, in reality, frightening and appalling.
Yes, the foot fault call was bogus and ill-timed. Whether or not Serena’s foot actually skimmed the line—replays were inconclusive—you can’t call a foot fault on a second serve at 15-30, 5-6 in the second set of a Grand Slam semifinal. Unless it’s a blatant violation (and in this case, it wasn’t), you just can’t make that call. Going ballistic was the appropriate reaction. If I had been in her situation, I’d have had an absolute meltdown—screaming, crying, cursing, smashing racquets, and generally throwing a you-have-to-be-kidding-me tantrum on the court.
But there was something different and, honestly, a little scary, about Serena’s response. It wasn’t just that she was livid; it was as if she had lost her mind. More disturbing than the profanity-laden vitriol she directed at the lineswoman was the menacing body language that accompanied it. I was seated in the media section, about 30 rows back directly behind the lineswoman, so I witnessed Serena’s tirade from the same head-on vantage point as the judge herself. Serena’s outburst was intimidating: her eyes bulged as she brandished her racquet pointedly and menacingly. I couldn’t hear the words that poured out of her mouth (“I swear to God, I’ll [expletive] take this ball and shove it down your [expletive] throat,” was the most malicious line in the profane tirade, I learned afterwards) but I could see the fury in Serena’s face and the hostility in her aggressive posture. It was a shocking and dreadful scene.
The ending of that semifinal is a blight on the image of Williams, an 11-time major champion, as well as the game itself. But another unfortunate result of the match’s contentious ending was that it denied Clijsters the moment of triumph she deserved. She cried tears of joy and disbelief after having ousted Venus in the fourth round; imagine what her match point celebration could have been against Serena.
Fortunately, Clijsters got to celebrate an even sweeter victory the next night in the final. The last point of Clijsters’ match against Wozniacki was decided by play, not by penalty. The Belgian finished championship point with an emphatic overhead, and then fell to her knees, her face in her hands, overwhelmed by what she’d accomplished. A month after returning to tennis, she was the U.S. Open champion. As the crowd celebrated her achievement, a weeping Clijsters climbed up to the stands to hug her husband. Where a day earlier we’d seen venom and vitriol, we were now witnessing a joyous family reunion.
Comment