Nobody in my house or
what is now an extended family could care less about the World Cup. But my wife and daughter care very much about
the women at Wimbledon, Serena Williams most of all. Yesterday morning started off with Clare
texting her mother complaining that the men—Novak Djokovic and Rafael Nadal
locked in a five-hour, fifteen-minutes semi-finals contest—were delaying the
start of what to her was the premier match of the day. A few hours later, my wife
left—reluctantly—to get her nails down.
“They won’t have Wimbledon on at the salon,” she was certain. No, they wouldn’t.
Even though Williams
lost the women’s finals in straight sets to Angelique Kerber, she remains one
of the great draws in professional sports, if not Michael Jordan then at least
in the same ballpark. (Consider that
cliché, metaphor and double entendre rolled into one.) If the WNBA and women’s pro softball want to
survive, they need players with the draw of Williams.
For that, you can call
me Captain Obvious. How to turn an Elena
Della Donne into a Serena Williams remains the multi-million dollar
question.
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