News you can’t use.
I’ve been meaning to keep up with Davis Cup action this week, but to be honest, I just can’t get worked up about an outdated, increasingly irrelevant tournament played in a half-hearted team format scattered around the world anymore. I just can’t.
I’ve also been meaning to talk about Serena, but where do I start?
Where do I start, when my WTA favourites fade into the twilight of the game one after another because of injuries? After Justine Henin was just taken away from the game by an elbow refusing to handle any more of this game; after Venus limped out of the Australian Open to the boos of a hostile crowd; after Maria Sharapova left with a bum shoulder at the height of her career, only to return and find that the tour has moved on, and that brighter, faster and more powerful versions of her prototype now dominate the women’s tennis market?
Where do I fucking start?!
Except to howl one, giant, Cee-Lo styled “FUCK YOU” at all the exigencies of life. (Excoozay my Fransay)
But at the end of the day, c’est la vie. And the life of Serena Williams has all the elements of a melodramatic biopic in the making – rags to riches, family, race, personality, linescalls, nosedives and comebacks … and now, a pulmonary embolism.
At the age of 29, after being out of the game for 8 months and counting, you’d be forgiven for thinking that this might be the end of the Williams dynasty. But if there was ever one person who could still make a successful comeback to tennis at this point in her career, it’s Serena. A person so extraordinary and logic-denying that she could be regarded as a law unto herself.
Get well soon, Serena. Get well, come back, and kick ass so that one day, when you do leave this game of tennis, you walk out on your own terms.