Serena Williams, holder of 39 grand slam titles and four Olympic gold medals, who spent 319 weeks as tennis’s world No 1 and became the highest-earning female athlete in history, never thought she was that good when she was a young player. That was because she was always training against her older sister, Venus (“she was the prodigy of prodigies”), the only person in the world who could really challenge her. A year younger, Serena remembers being shorter and weaker and resorting to cheating on line calls at practice so she could occasionally beat her.
In the Arena: Serena Williams (the title comes from President Roosevelt’s 1910 speech to the Sorbonne – “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena” so, yes, consider me told) is an eight-part docuseries that covers Serena’s rise and rise over her 27-year tennis career before she retired three years ago. Since then, incidentally, she has been busy with her venture capital firm, production company, body care and pain relief startup, beauty line and raising two children. Honestly, it’s like looking in a mirror, is it not?
In the Arena was executive produced by Serena and is clearly meant to be the definitive version of events. It would be too strong to call it hagiographic, but it is a full-blooded celebration of her achievements. It is not the place to come if you want, for example, an interrogation of the techniques used by the sisters’ astonishing father and coach, Richard Williams, to mould two champions. “My dad was a marketing genius,” says Serena of his marshalling of press attention round his children in the early years, regardless, some might say and have said, of the psychological impact. “There’s a very thin line between parent and coach … But I would say at the end it was all worth it,” is as far as Serena goes here in acknowledging the criticism Richard has faced for his intense focus on their professional success.
Then it’s on to the good stuff. The sisters turning pro – Venus flying from the start, Serena stumbling slightly before she too took off. The beating of rivals and established stars (“I was determined, determined to take her down … I’m coming for you. I’m coming for everyone”) and their swift domination of a game that had hitherto been almost solely the preserve of a white, moneyed elite. “Little sisters from Compton. Can’t really take that too seriously, right?”
Inevitably, of course, they begin to meet in grand slam finals. The footage – the grace, the power of them – is astonishing. Almost as astonishing, if in a gradually emerging way, is the grace with which they handle the competition between them, the wins and the losses. Serena talks about benefiting from Venus going first in everything, from turning pro, to handling good and bad press, to playing individuals Serena will later face in tournaments. They talk with sincerity about being pleased for each other’s wins even as they mourn and analyse their own losses. And they talk about the bifurcation between life as sisters and life as absolutely dedicated competitors and not letting either one infect the other.
They warmed up together before their first joint grand slam final, the 2001 US Open. Venus won. “I can’t say I enjoyed it. I did what I had to do.” “I wasn’t happy,” adds Serena. “But I was OK. She was the phenom. It was never me.” Her turn would come. She learned to pretend she was playing someone else when it was Venus on the other side of the net. By the time Wimbledon rolled round a year later, she was ready to be No 1. “I gotta have it,” Serena grins, remembering. “That’s what I need in my life. Because it’s just an extension of who I was. As Thanos says: I was inevitable. I couldn’t stop the roll.”
Nor could anyone – including the haters behind the racial and misogynist abuse she dealt with – or anything, including the difficult birth of her first child, in 2017, which nearly killed her. She retired in 2022, and plunged straight into what is already a highly successful and lucrative second act.
It would be fascinating to compare and contrast another pair of sisters or – perhaps even more fascinatingly – a pair of brothers who followed the same trajectory. Would they have stayed so close, maintained the same boundaries between love and work, or would they have disappeared under the pressure of competition? Would they have spurred each other on to greater heights in the same way, or destroyed each other? Would they remain such generous supporters of each other, or have combusted by now? What makes the mind not just of a champion – but of a champion who survives the ride intact? Maybe one day we’ll find out. But there is as yet nothing to compare to Serena or to Venus separately, let alone together.