Saturday, Sept. 10, 2022 | 2 a.m.
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I was there, and I wasn’t. I wasn’t in New York at Arthur Ashe stadium, but I was there — like millions of others, like you probably were, clinging to every point of Serena Williams’ third-round match against Croatia-born Australian Ajla Tomljanovic at the U.S. Open.
I was there — we were there — because Williams told us the tournament would be her last. That after 23 Grand Slam singles titles, she was ready to evolve (does anyone “retire” from anything anymore?) from the sport she variously dominated over two-plus decades. Evolve toward family. Toward venture capital. Toward whatever she dang-well pleased.
I was also there as the moment evoked memories of a similar encounter — in the fall of 1989 when Chris Evert, the beloved champion of that era, faced fellow American Zina Garrison on center stage in the U.S. Open quarterfinals. Evert had won 18 career majors and would turn 39 that December. She hadn’t won a major singles title in four years, though she was still seeded fourth that year.
At the time, I was Sports Illustrated’s senior editor overseeing tennis coverage and had negotiated and coordinated the cover story in which Evert announced the U.S. Open would be her last. “Well, this is it,” began the story, penned with aid of SI’s venerable writer Curry Kirkpatrick. “No more ‘maybes.’ No more ‘depending ons.’ No more ‘probablys.’ … My mind is made up. The 1989 U.S. Open will be my final tournament.”
That made every Evert match that year a must-see moment — just as Williams’ matches were.
Evert cruised through four rounds without losing a set, including a 6-0, 6-2 fourth-round rout of a screeching teen from Yugoslavia — Monica Seles.
Her next opponent, Garrison, was 22 and reaching her prime — under the microscope of being a Black woman in a sport that had not seen the likes of such since Althea Gibson, a generation before.
Garrison, not surprisingly, took an unconventional route to tennis’ upper echelon, emerging — and yes, it sounds familiar — from a public playground (MacGregor Park) in a Black neighborhood in a major city (Houston). Also not surprisingly, when the comparison is so easy, she and friend Lori McNeil, who trained at the same park and became a formidable pro, are often positioned as predecessors to Venus and Serena Williams. Indeed, the two sisters often said that as they swung their first racquets at Compton Park in Southern California they were inspired by Garrison and McNeil.
Garrison was seeded fifth at the 1989 U.S. Open and I was there — almost to the date, on Sept. 5 — on the sunny Tuesday afternoon when the two women met on center court at Louis Armstrong Stadium (Arthur Ashe stadium debuted eight years later).
As a credentialed media member, I had a seat inside the press box far above the court. I’d interviewed Garrison several times and had a rapport with her team and family, including Willard Jackson, whom she married that month. Not long before the match was to begin, I ran into Jackson on the grounds of the U.S. Tennis Center.
“Want a ticket?” he asked. “We’ve got an extra.” Tickets or seats closer to the court offered a better vantage from which to gauge the power behind the combatants’ shots and the emotional vicissitudes of the match. SI’s seat was being used, naturally, by our writer covering the tournament, so I accepted — no doubt breaching an ethical boundary.
What I didn’t know was that the ticket was smack dab in the players’ box — yeah, the one cameras swing toward a billion times. I’ll spare you the full details of the day. Yet know the experience was akin to those sitting in Tomljanovic’s box: When Evert won a point, the stadium shook as if it was being yanked from its concrete foundation; when Garrison prevailed at any juncture, the seven cheering from her box (yours truly was silent) felt alone in the world.
Garrison overcame a slow, nervous start, and won both sets. Afterward, the two women hugged as they departed the court. Evert smiled. Garrison cried.
Garrison and I have stayed in touch throughout the 33 years since that day in 1989. She was there for Williams’ last match, sitting in a conference room at Arthur Ashe stadium. The match evoked memories for her, too, of the day she “retired Chris Evert.” “I was just kind of numb,” she said. “I’m sure (Tomljanovic) was probably very much like that as well.”
On Saturday, Garrison finally ran into Williams at the stadium. “It was very quick,” she said. “I told her I was extremely proud of her. She looked back and just winked. I’ve sent her a couple of texts, but I know her, she’ll text me at about 2:30 in the morning three weeks from now. It’s all good. I’m excited that she allowed us to celebrate her because I was really afraid she was going to go away.”
Far from it. Although Tomljanovic rolled in the ultimate set, Williams exhibited every bit of the ferociousness, the fight that characterized her career before defeat.
“It was truly a perfect ending,” Garrison shared. “All that we know about Serena was shown last night and the world was able to see it once again for one last time. Now she’ll go on to do something else great.”
We’ll be there, too.
Roy Johnson is a 2021 Pulitzer Prize finalist for commentary and winner of 2021 Edward R. Murrow prize for podcasts: “Unjustifiable”, co-hosted with John Archibald. He wrote this for al.com.
