Last week Serena won her 18th Grand Slam singles title at the US Open. This is impressive by any standard, all the more so when you consider her previous ill-health, and her many sidelines: she is also co-owner of an American football team and a qualified nail technician. She's my absolute favourite tennis player to watch, and not just on the women's tour (I'm sure she'd wipe the floor with the male top seeds).
But the thing I like best is her innate "younger sister-ness". Bear with me. While Venus hold back, Serena jumps in with both feet, and that's all about having the older sister safety net. Younger sisters get to be fallible in ways older sisters do not. They are less burdened with rules, and their second-fiddle status means they like to be noticed. (Just look at Solange Knowles.)
Serena's younger-sister-ness shows in her occasional outbursts (which she gets crucified for, whereas that other great American John McEnroe was celebrated for his). It's in her dresses (most recently, a leopard-print stunner) and her flawless manicures (long, embellished). It's in her often vocal frustration at what she sees as a lack of respect. "I can't believe I'm in the second week," she said at the US Open. Why, asked a reporter. "I'm being sarcastic," came the reply. (If Federer had said this, the irony would have been clear.) And it's in her sheer ebullience when she wins: who else would break into an impromptu crip walk after taking gold at the 2012 Olympics?
Full disclosure: I am a younger sister. And, yes, you could argue my love for Serena is a thinly-disguised form of narcissism. But that's OK. Because, as a younger sister, self-absorption is also my right.
