Richard Williams has made it to Oklahoma City – driving from Florida in his black Montero – and the family practice sessions are a model of decorum. Every few minutes Richard hugs one of his daughters: “That’s wonderful, Venus. That’s fantastic.” “I love you, Serena. You’re a wonderful daughter.” In between, he is a bit louder: “That’s a good shot, V, but it’s not enough to be number one. Go forward, Serena; stay down, V; watch the pulse, Serena you’re a loser. You’re getting on my nerves now. You know what I’m talking about, right? Don’t get defensive, Venus; When Serena blows Venus away, he says, “That’s survival.” When Serena lets a ball die, Mom says, “That’s not running, Serena, that’s walking.” They save their harshest criticism for private whispered conferences with each girl, and at the end there’s extensive praise, hugs, and thank yous all around (They’re so concerned about each other’s feelings that when Brandi took pictures at the grocery store, her husband reminded her. make sure you take a few more pictures of Serena than of Venus, since it’s her camera.’) In the parking lot Much after the session, Richard tells his daughters that “you are all some of the best people in the world.”
Born in Shreveport, Louisiana, and whose mother picked cotton to support him and his sisters, Richard has a reputation for being a bit pretentious and not just a bit annoying. But he is also very funny. He introduces Venus and Serena to the club director, looks at me, pauses and says, “And this is my daughter by my first wife.”
Venus has her own reputation for being distant on tour, but she is always surrounded by family. As she has indicated, she is also there to play her matches and do the necessary interviews, not to socialize. In any case, the chance of someone developing a head that is too big seems small. Brandi won’t let the girls fly first class, not even to Europe or Australia. “I’m just not going to pay all that money. I feel like I’m cheating on someone who needs it.” This is the subject of one of her daughters’ favorite sketches. “In the second class,” says Serena, “people are unruly; the bread is hard and cold. In first class, on the other hand, they serve you ice cream sundaes, it’s roomy, roomy and comfortable, and you can sit back without fear of someone hitting you.” Venus intervenes. ‘In first class everyone has their business papers and stuff. If you could lean in, you could probably learn to make some money. If you’re not careful, they’ll steal your wallet in second grade.” Mom has heard all this before. “If it were up to me,” she tells me, “Venus wouldn’t even have a car. But that wasn’t up to me.” Right, Venus teases: “If it were up to you, we’d all eat rice and barley.”
