When Margaret Court threatened to boycott the 50th anniversary of her grand slam sweep at the 2020 Australian Open in January – envious of the accolades that are heaped on her compatriot, Rod Laver – another legend far away surely allowed herself a smile.
If Court and Serena Williams, from different backgrounds and with very different sensibilities, have anything in common but the racket talent that raised them to global adulation in careers of vastly different eras, it is a sense of grievance. Champions are like that, different from the herd. They are obsessed with winning. Winning everything. All the time. And, more than that, they demand applause for their greatness because they judge themselves to be worth it. Where others might see arrogance, they see only proper recognition.
Court, a magnificent player but, like Williams, also “difficult” and forthright, has made it plain she wants to be heartily and universally acknowledged for her deeds, beyond having a court named after her at the Melbourne venue, albeit one that is second in status to that of Laver, where the finals are held. She told the Melbourne Age: “Tennis Australia earlier this year honoured Mr Laver for his half-century grand slam anniversary. They brought Rod in from America. If they think I’m just going to turn up, I don’t think that’s right. I think I should be invited. I would hope they would pay my way to come, like they paid for his, and honour me. If they’re not going to do that, I don’t really want to come.”
The ritual foot-shuffling ensued. Tennis Australia told the tournament broadcaster, Channel Nine, that they recognise Court’s achievements, “although her views do not align with our values of equality, diversity and inclusion”. Stalemate.
Williams, on those days when she rails against demons, real or imagined, also seems stubborn beyond reconciliation. So, in the city and tournament where Williams won her 23rd and still her last slam title almost three years ago, it looks as if Court will not be there to shake her hand if Williams wins to match Court’s own 24 majors.
Although Williams is a devout Jehovah’s Witness and Court a pastor of her own church in Perth, Western Australia, they share little beyond religious fervour. Williams, who takes on causes of injustice, would happily be described as liberal and understanding of others’ beliefs. Court is famously intolerant of the gay community and same-sex marriage, scathingly so to the point where half of Australia cannot stand her and the other half do not much care.
When Williams announced this month that she was paring down her already slim schedule to the four majors and a handful of other tournaments, it was obvious she was training her guns on Court’s record. She has been marooned on 23 since January 2017, when she beat her sister, Venus, in the final of the Australian Open, the title where Court won 12 of her swag of 24.
And that is another source of contention. Are Court’s titles – nearly half of them in her amateur days and so many in Australia in an era when many of the best players declined to make the long journey south – on a par with those of Williams? Many would argue they are not. And they would be right. Williams has collected her trophies in a considerably more intense era. All have arrived as a professional. She won her first as a teenager, 12 when in her 20s and a record 10 of them after she had passed 30. That is staggering longevity at the highest level.
Yet she has stalled. In her four finals in seven tournaments since last winning in Melbourne, she has been unable to find the sustained brilliance that so intimidated her opponents for most of her career. It is as if the fire has gone out and she refuses to accept it. She had a decent excuse: motherhood, which not only has occupied her time but her passion. Tennis quickly came second and her return to grand slam winning form has been slow.
Still, Williams was as strong and as quick as she had been for a long while when she lost to one of the many brilliant young contenders gathering in her slipstream, Bianca Andreescu, in the US Open final in September, having fallen to Simona Halep at Wimbledon. A year after losing to Naomi Osaka in an embarrassingly emotional decider at her home major, Williams again could not hold back the tide of youth. It is a place where she has suffered before. At 38 she has had to work hard to get back to the sort of tournament-long form and fitness needed to win another of the four slam events.
She is tantalisingly close. But she remains committed to the quest. And, paradoxically, it might be Court who inspires her to do what seems increasingly unlikely. If the Australian is not in Melbourne, Williams will not be bothered. But she will seriously love to prove she is as good as Court was. And then there would be the irresistible urge to put the issue beyond argument and win one more to be hailed, unequivocally, as the greatest player of all time – as Andy Murray described her earlier this year.
Champions need something more than a mere trophy to inspire them. They need rivalry to validate their own assessment of their gifts. Just as Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal have lifted each other to dizzy levels for more than 15 years – with no immediate end in sight, barring injuries – so Williams carries on, determined to beat an opponent who first ruled their sport 50 years ago – and is still not satisfied.
