I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Category: Reflections

  • Turn Out the Lights…


    …the party’s over.

    Serena Williams’s search for the ultimate prize of the Calendar Grand Slam in 2015 ended Friday afternoon with high drama in the third set of her US Open semi-final match against Roberta Vinci on the courts of Arthur Ashe Stadium in Flushing Meadows, New York. Roberta Who??

    Exactly. Roberta Vinci, an unseeded player from Italy, was a very long shot to win. The odds makers had her at 200:1 or thereabouts – depending on your bookie. Now that’s an underdog.Think David and Goliath, the first recorded upset in a match that was crucial to a lot of folks in days of yore. In the biblical account David the little shepherd boy goes up against the great Philistine warrior giant Goliath and manages to take him down with a single  stone from a  slingshot. Score David 1, Goliath 0.

    In her press conference following the loss, Serena looked like a giant who had been slain by a barrage of unbelievable shots from an opponent comparable in rank to the little shepherd boy. Surely Goliath must have had a similar shocked expression on his face as he tried to figure out what hit him before he fell to the ground.

    The tennis world reeled from the results of both semi-finals in which the top two players lost, and the widely anticipated match-up between Serena and Simona in the final was not to be. The media scrambled to find a new story line, and the ticket-holders for the final were disappointed in the lost opportunity to watch an American sports icon make history in her country’s most prestigious tournament.

    The Serena Saga came to an unceremonious end with much doom and gloom in the atmosphere at the Arthur Ashe arena, but as the poet Kahlil Gibran wrote: The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on.

    Tom Rinaldi’s interview with Roberta Vinci after her match with Serena introduced an Italian tennis player with a great smile and sense of humor to go along with her slingshot.  She was the beginning of a new story that captivated tennis fans and gave the world an unprecedented opportunity to witness a magical moment in sports in an American tennis final that belonged to Italy.

    It’s why they play the game.

    To be continued.

  • Both Have Prevailed


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    Venus Williams and her little sister Serena

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    For the past seventeen years the Williams sisters have carried the heavy burden of American tennis on their shoulders, and the load has never been an easy one. Their two-person dynasty has been controversial, but their attitudes about the sport they represent have matured as their games have become more powerful. Their popularity increased as they became more comfortable with their celebrity and confident in their games. They grew up in front of a nation and, eventually, the world.

    Never in their 27 professional matches have the theater and drama been more exciting than last night in the quarterfinals of the US Open under the lights in New York City.  Approximately 23,000 fans came to the Billie Jean King Tennis Center in Flushing Meadows to watch a match that was more than a game, and the Williams sisters delivered another thrilling exhibition of tennis at the highest level. As the ESPN commentators noted before the match, this was a big-time American sporting event with all the bells and whistles we love in our fascination with sports.

    Tom Rinaldi who has replaced Dick Enberg as the TV tennis philosopher who adds the stories to evoke our emotional attachment to an event, made these remarks prior to the match: “In an individual sport, their stories will always be linked…in our view of the Williams sisters, we see champions sharing a court, a desire to win, and a name. True, one will win –  but both have prevailed.”

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    Serena Williams is now two matches shy of her goals of a Calendar Grand Slam in 2015 and a total of 22 Slam titles to tie Steffi Graf’s record in the Open Era. Two matches…and counting.

    To be continued.

  • Sister Act (2015)


    Lord help the mister who comes between  me and my sister,

    And Lord help the sister who comes between me and my  (slam).

    Actually, Irving Berlin’s lyrics in the 1954 romantic musical White Christmas ended that second line with “man” because Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen played sisters in love with the same man, Bing Crosby. In my 2015 version the two sisters are in love with the same dream: winning major tennis tournaments like the US Open in New York City this week so I took poetic license and inserted “slam.” My apologies to you, Mr. Berlin.

    For Serena Williams the stakes couldn’t be higher since she is now three matches away from a Calendar Grand Slam, something which hasn’t been done since 1988.  She’s also chasing Steffi Graf’s record of winning 22 majors in the Open Era. She’s at 21 and counting, which already secures her place in tennis history but 22 would place her in the conversation of being the best ever.

    The tennis gods have aligned the Open draws with their usual good sense of humor and placed a familiar obstacle in Serena’s quarterfinal match. She will face her older sister Venus for the 27th. time in their professional careers. Serena has won 15 of those matches and Venus has won 11. Venus has won seven Major titles herself and at the ripe old age of 35 appears to be playing up to her personal best tennis again in 2015.

    Both sisters have said the one thing they know for sure is that a Williams will be playing in the US Open semi-finals but neither claims to know for sure which sister it will be.

    How many times have these women taken to the practice courts in their lifetimes? How many tennis balls have they hit together as a team and separately as the solo act on those courts…they have won 13 Grand Slam titles in their doubles career together, too. Extra kudos to them for these wins.

    I have mixed emotions about this quarterfinal match. I wonder about the tension at the Williams family dinner table when everyone tries not to talk about their match or whether they kid each other about who has the better chance of winning. As an only child, I have no point of reference in winning or losing to a sister; but my sense is that Venus and Serena both want to win very badly whenever they step onto the court and this ultimately trumps any potential guilt one might have for standing in the way of the other.

    Lord help the sister who comes between me and my Slam.

    To be continued.

  • Dancing with Destiny


    In 1999 the paths of two of the most recognized women athletes in the world crossed twice in different stages of their tennis careers.  Steffi Graf was twenty-nine years old and was about to retire from a career she began in 1982, and Serena Williams was seventeen years old  at the very beginning of her career that continues to the present day.

    They played each other twice in 1999. Steffi Graf won their first meeting in Australia several months before she won her 22nd. major tournament at the French Open that year.  Graf had won a Golden Slam in 1988 when she won all four of the major tournaments plus an Olympic Gold Medal in the same calendar year. No tennis player has won a calendar year Grand Slam since 1988.

    The second time Graf and Serena Williams met in 1999 was in California at the Indian Wells tournament where Serena won in three sets.  Two months after that match Graf retired, and three months after that contest Serena won the US Open which was the first of her current total of 21 majors in her sport.

    Tonight, in just a few minutes, Serena Williams will begin her third round match in the 2015 US Open in New York City. She has won the Australian Open, the French Open and Wimbledon already this year. If she wins the US Open, she will have accomplished a calendar year Grand Slam and will be the first woman since Graf in 1988 to make that happen. Somewhat appropriately and coincidentally, it would be her 22nd. major title that would tie Graf’s record.

    Serena is truly dancing with destiny, as one of the TV commentators for the Open said earlier this week. She is thirty-three years old but not the oldest gladiator in the Williams family in  the Open this year.  That honor belongs to her thirty-five year-old sister Venus who moves on to the Round of 16 next week following her victory today over eighteen-year-old Belinda Bencic from Switzerland, who is one of only two players to defeat younger sister Serena this year. Don’t mess with my sister, girl.

    Win or lose at the Open this year, Serena Williams has already secured her place in history that allows her to be mentioned in the same breath with Steffi Graf, Martina Navratilova, Chris Evert and Billy Jean King. The Williams sisters have been the face of American tennis for the many years the male American players have wandered in a wilderness of mediocrity.  Whether you are fans of theirs or not, they have earned our respect for their longevity in a sport that is physically demanding and mentally challenging.

    To be continued.

     

     

     

     

  • Learning New Tricks from Old Dogs


    From the time I was five or six years old growing up in rural southeast Texas in the 1950s, my daddy used to take me with him to hunt quail during what I remember as a relatively short season in the late fall and winter months. Quail lived in coveys in fields in the countryside around us and were excellent at hiding from their enemies in the tall grasses that would become hay when baled. You could walk and walk and walk some more until you felt like your legs were going to fall off if you had to put one foot ahead of the other again, but the quail were always one step ahead of you unless you had help locating them.

    Enter the hunter’s best friend: the German short-haired pointer a/k/a in Grimes County, Texas as the bird dog. A good bird dog could run through a field sniffing and sniffing, sometimes whining, until he caught a whiff of a covey of quail and then he would stop, raise his right front leg to a ninety-degree angle,  curl his medium-length tail over his back and point his nose exactly in the direction of the covey. He remained in this precise position until the hunter walked up beside the dog which would cause the quail to take flight with the sound of their fluttering wings making a whoosh noise as they left the ground.

    Whoosh! Bam! It was over that quick. The covey rose from the ground cover, and my daddy would shoot his twelve-gauge shotgun. Occasionally a bird would fall, and I would run to retrieve it and put it in my jacket to take home to my grandmother who would be happy to fix it for our supper. We rarely got our  legal limit, but we would usually have enough for a meal.

    The problem my daddy had was he never had a “good” bird dog.  He got the puppies from different people  in the area who always assured him their dogs were the best in the field, but invariably the pointer he got didn’t respond well to training. A common trait Daddy’s dogs had was rather than stopping to point and hold their position, they would  stop to point for a split second and then run as fast as they could to try to catch the birds by themselves. Of course, the quail would take flight when they heard the dogs and be long gone out of  shooting range by the time we caught up with the dogs. Daddy would halfheartedly fuss – and the dogs rarely improved.

    As I think back on this now, I believe our dogs had an identity issue which caused their lackluster performance in the field. Whether they did well or not in the hunting arena, they were fed regularly with  delicious scraps from our table (dog food wasn’t on Daddy’s radar screen) and petted and hugged on an equally regular basis. They came indoors for their pets and Daddy often scooped the big dogs up and held them on his lap while he talked to them about their shortcomings. My daddy was a very diminutive man – about five feet six inches tall – and those dogs weighed almost as much as he did. They looked at him with adoring eyes and absolute trust…and seemed to be saying I promise I’ll do better next time…but they wouldn’t.

    My daddy loved his bird dogs. We always had at least one dog in our family for as long as I can remember and at one time when I was in high school, we had three.  I know that for sure because I still have the original oil paintings he commissioned  at that time from an artist friend of his.

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    Daddy’s Bird Dogs: Rex, Seth and Dab (circa 1966)

    No wonder I love my dogs. I’ve never personally owned a bird dog, but I’ve been on the receiving end of the adoring eyes and plaintive expressions of more than a few dogs of my own throughout my adult life. I confess to holding them on my lap if I can scoop them up, but even if I can’t do that, I will give them lots of love and kisses whenever and wherever they will stand  or sit or lie down to be so smothered.

    Loving dogs – or any animal for that matter – is the gift that keeps on giving to us mere humans, but the gift comes with a high price tag because their lives are relatively short. Indeed,  it seems the older we are, the faster we lose them.

    Two of our three remaining dogs that have given us much more loyalty and adoration than we deserve over the past decade have now been diagnosed with cancers that will ultimately take them from us. What I have learned from them is that they both keep their pain to themselves without complaints. They are not troubled by wondering why they are in their particular situations, and I think this allows them to try to keep changes in their routines to a minimum. They like to roll the way they’ve always rolled if they possibly can.

    I am a contemplative person – I can’t help myself. I find I can spend a great deal of time trying to figure out “why” this happened or that took place. Unfortunately, discovering “why” doesn’t necessarily lead to productive change. As a matter of fact, the opposite is likely to occur. So when I find myself in a position similar to the ones my dogs are facing today, I hope I have learned my lessons from the examples they have set for me and focus less on “why” and more on “so what.”

    That’s the way I’d like to roll.

    P.S. My daddy never asked anyone to make an oil painting of me.