Serena Williams has, for a couple of years now, stumbled rather than charged towards history. However, on a Melbourne night cooled by a pleasant zephyr and attended by a crowd expecting a coronation more than a fight, she consigned all her doubts and disappointments to the past to stand tall as the greatest player of her generation, perhaps of all time.
It took her an hour and 21 minutes, a miserably brief slice of time in the context of a career that began last century, to beat her sister for the 17th time in 28 matches and win not only her seventh Australian Open but her 23rd major, eclipsing the open era record held by Steffi Graf. It is likely, but no given, that she can win two more to overtake the all-time mark set by Margaret Court, who was there to watch her on Saturday night.
However, it won’t do to sugar the pill: this was not a memorable final. For a match that delivered history, it was devoid of drama, however much it was loaded with emotion.
How could it not be? Venus, a fine champion in her own right, the owner of seven slam titles, and coming to this special evening against her sister on a run of form that has surprised even her. She was handed the part of fall-girl because Serena is, beyond argument, just too good for her on nearly any given day, and has been since 2008, the second and final time Venus beat her to win a major.
That was at Wimbledon the year Rafael Nadal defeated Roger Federer in a match regarded as one of the best in history, whatever the status. Here they all are again, eight years later, defying age and the opinions of every expert in town. In all probability, the men’s final on Sunday will be a much tighter contest than this one was.
It would be cruel to say Venus was a bystander against Serena, because she had her moments. But they were fleeting and the prevailing sentiment that ran through the match was one of inevitability. Just as inevitable was the debate that has attended most of their 14 matches in slams: is there not even a sliver of sympathy going both ways across the net for whoever loses?
“It’s never about letting her win, or her letting me win,” Serena said. “It’s about playing the best we can.”
She said beforehand – quite rightly – that Venus was always her toughest opponent, an assertion supported by the statistics.
Although Serena has beaten her seven out of the past eight times, Venus has won more matches, 11, against her than anyone else. Consider how the others have fared: Maria Sharapova has won against Serena twice in 21 matches. Victoria Azarenka has beaten her four times in 21 matches.
Yet the certainty of a Serena victory has strengthened by the year – and not just against her sister – as she has driven on towards the Graf landmark. Sometimes she has faltered, never more sadly than at the US Open two years ago when in sight of the calendar slam. On court, she has been close to tears many times, as her game has flickered from brilliant to unreliable.
Between points, one of the sport’s most outstanding athletes walks with care, husbanding her strength for charges in any direction. It has been an exercise in the conservation of her gifts rather than a case of bombarding opponents at every opportunity as Novak Djokovic did until the recent interruption of his reign.
There was nevertheless an unspoken subsidiary narrative on Saturday evening, one that neither woman could contemplate out loud: how would Venus have felt denying her sister the record, suspecting she might not get many better chances, given the state of her knees and her age? Serena played eight tournaments last year and might not appear in many more this season.
And how would Serena feel denying her sister an eighth slam after all she has been through in recent years? She has fought through the debilitating effects of serial and unpredictable bouts of a devilish auto-immune disease called Sjögren’s syndrome. It lurks like a mugger, but she has glowed with health this past fortnight and played her best tennis in a little while.
Most siblings, especially those close in age and athletic ability, grow up as fierce competitors. Look at Andy and Jamie Murray. “It didn’t matter what it was: cards, dominoes, monopoly, golf or football, they were always competing with each other,” Judy Murray said once of her sons, who were born 15 months apart – as it happens, the same age gap as that between Venus and Serena.
The Americans are different. Their bond is more complicated. They did not pursue different routes in their sport. Indeed, when they were not competing for the same singles titles, they were combining in doubles. As close as they are off the court, they are oceans apart when a net divides them.
When Serena thrashed a forehand winner across Venus’s flailing racket to break to 15 after two minutes, an awful and complicated thought spread unspoken around Rod Laver Arena: would this be an embarrassingly one-sided match or would the younger sister struggle to crush a player and sister she again described this week as “My world”?
That has been a theme running through their parallel careers since the day their father, Richard, decided even before they were born that he wanted daughters who would go on to be great champions in a sport that he knew almost nothing about.
Three double faults and a timid 78mph second serve – split by an ace – meekly handed Venus the break back in the fourth game. Venus had her chances in the second set, missing two sitters in the fourth game that would have given her a precious break.
The end was perfunctory, a stark counterpoint to Serena’s statistical conquering of another Everest. There are many who have been regarded for some time as the greatest. Graf has perhaps as many admirers, as does Martina Navratilova, Chris Evert and, for those who can go back a little further in time, Margaret Court.
From this vantage point, Serena is the enduring No1, the little sister who did to Venus what she has done to hundreds of other players down the years. Except she did it with sibling empathy only they could properly understand.
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