Serena the Beautiful

When Serena Williams came into the tennis open in Australia two weeks ago having played only four tournaments in 2006 she was criticized by the commentators for being out of condition, overweight and unlikely to go beyond the first round. Ranked 81 she was not even seeded for the tournament.

The favorite word the commentators are using lately for poorly played tennis matches is "scratchy" which they used in copious amounts to describe Williams’ tennis as she advanced to the final round to play Maria Sharapova ranked number one in the world.

I had a hunch from the beginning rounds she would advance to play Sharapova who I figured would get to the finals. Williams did not disappoint.

She is a warrior and relishes a battle playing best when the odds are against her. She has never been turned into commodity as say, Sharapova, because the attributes she possesses are not of the shallow market. She is black, she is heavy with large breasts and a big behind. She is beautiful, but I have never heard anyone call her beautiful. Instead she has been criticized along with her sister Venus from the beginning of their careers for her grunts, her screams, her outfits, her hairstyle, for not playing hard enough, for staying away from the game and having the audacity to show up for a major and thinking she could win it, which so often, promptly she would.

She is bound to be an irritation to the commentators who can only praise if the game is played their way. It must be baffling to see someone play and win a major doing it her way. Irritating too, to the players who practice harder, longer, drive themselves to be the best, and Serena beats them anyway.

She plays best when the rest doubt she can win. She believes in herself through all the doubters and those who criticize what they cannot comprehend bound by rules inside their own heads that she has interest in playing.

At the end of the final last night, the stern Pam Shriver asked her if "this time she plans to stick around." Shriver could not resist the impulse to insult the woman who had just thrashed the number one player in the world who continued to look shell-shocked during the celebration ceremonies.

"Oh come on now, don’t be like that," she answered serenely. I knew she would have an answer that would put Shriver in her place. She always comes up with the winning shot.

Christian Mohn can be reached at cmohnc@comcast.net