But across the stadium a feisty and epically talented American is fighting for her legend against a surge of fresh faces and renewed veterans, in a pool that includes whole nations—like China—never before so poised to seize greatness.
And she’s only got the best of three sets to do it.
The close of the Grand Slam season leaves women’s tennis in flux. With history, controversy and change on its side, the game’s greatest asset may be its raw edges.
Most thrilling of all—its soul is up for grabs.
Point—A Bing image search of ‘women’s tennis.’ Bosoms and undies, amply and predictably exhibited.
Of course. In athletics, as in all outlets of human expression in which females are even tangentially involved, sexuality simply is a factor. And like a feral retort against the restraint and propriety traditional to tennis, the game’s carnal factor is conspicuous.
The best transcend it, the mediocre exploit it. No player escapes it.
Counterpoint—But wade through the Sharapova-wedgie pics and there’s the John Brown University team shot. The crew from Abraham Baldwin Ag College makes the spread, so does a riotous junior squad from Texas. Eminently respectable all.
The point? Sex sells, but so does Title IX.
History lesson. The strongest popularity spurt known to sports in the past decade (women’s soccer) was fueled by three factors:
1. a victorious, charismatic talent pool
2. media coverage
3. Girls played it, a lot.
Plotline? Mia Hamm fighting for a clean arena, Hope Solo fist-pumping Wembley.
Women’s tennis has all the same virtues, with the advantage of having been played professionally for as long as the men’s side.
The legends still have legs, their heiresses are stalking. New rivalries loom. Women’s tennis may just become the hottest sport we thought we knew.
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