Deborah Larkin

Recently, I was at the 50th anniversary gala of the Women’s Sports Foundation, a non-profit organization founded by Billie Jean King to give all girls and women the opportunity to play sports. The magnificent event took us through a half century of political and other pivotal events culminating with the achievements of many of today’s athletes. I couldn’t help but think about how our great sport and players have contributed to this legacy Here are a few:

Many of us remember first hand that fifty years ago, Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs brought the legendary Battle of the Sexes spectacle to 90 million people worldwide, confronting gender equity in a best-of-five-sets match in Las Vegas. Billie was carried into the arena on a chariot. Bobby gave her a giant sugar daddy candy. She reciprocated, giving him a (chauvinist) piglet.  But beneath the theatrics was serious business. Billie felt if she lost, she’d roll back gender equality by 50 years. She couldn’t lose. She just couldn’t lose, so she prepared so well, mentally and physically, that she won decisively.  The upshot? Women were inspired to get in shape “not just to be beautiful, but to be strong and powerful.”  A bank teller in Philadelphia told Billie that the match gave her the courage to ask her boss for a raise. Billie’s response: “Did you get it?”  She did.

The 1980s were filled with continuing racial unrest, South African apartheid, LBGT, HIV, women’s rights, Title IX and more. We marched, protested, partied, listened to Michael Jackson and Madonna, elected Ronald Reagan president and Sandra Day O’Conner became the first woman appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court. On our own courts, we applauded Leslie Allen, a University of Southern California honors graduate and NCAA, ATA and WTA champion who became the first African-American female to win a major championship since Althea Gibson in 1958. We watched young Black stars like Katrina Adams, Zina Garrison and Lori McNeil enter the pro ranks and use their platforms to demand and command respect, highlight racial and gender injustices and inspire many girls to play, compete and find their voice. 

The infusion of Hispanic players is growing, and they’re making their mark for social justice. We go back more than 50 years to acknowledge two of many Hispanic champions: Brazilian Maria Bueno won 19 grand slams in the ’50s and ’60s in both singles and doubles, earning her a coveted spot in the International Tennis Hall of Fame. Rosie Casals, born in San Francisco after her parents immigrated to the U.S. from El Salvador, won more than 112 titles. She has the distinction of being twice inducted into the ITHF, once in her own right with 12 grand slam doubles championships and again in 2021 as one of the “Original 9” who broke away from the governing bodies of tennis in 1970 to launch the Virginia Slims Circuit. Other Hispanic trail blazers: ITHF inductees Gigi Fernandez, Mary Jo Fernandez and Gabriela Sabatini as well as recently retired and likely ITHF inductee Garbene Mugaruza. They’ve paved the way for Monica Puig, the first Puerto Rican to win a gold medal in tennis at the Olympics in 2016, and Brazilian Beatriz Haddad Maia, who is ranked 10th worldwide in both singles and doubles. 

Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova, two of the greatest players of all time, captured our attention and admiration for decades. Their rivalry spanned 80 matches fueled by opposites: backcourt vs. serve and volley, girl next door vs. Czech defector, ice maiden vs. emotion, boyfriends vs. girlfriends. They were fierce competitors whose unabashed ambition and perseverance drove them each to be better players and more complete women. Before our eyes, they navigated issues that played out on the nightly news. What I remember most besides their envious play was how they respected each other after every match with handshakes, pats on the head, and sometimes comforting tears. They showed us we could be competitors on the court and lasting friends off the court. 

African-American superstars Venus and Serena Williams, who played each other NINE times in the grand slams, are set apart for their impact on tennis, culture and the world of sports. Their father/coach didn’t follow the traditional junior tennis path for them and they often didn’t feel welcomed so they found their own way. Their strength, athleticism, style of play and confidence distinguished them. Influenced by their mother, Oracine, they are outspoken about racism, sexism, equal pay, gender equity and investing in women and people of color. 

They faced numerous difficult situations. Remember Indian Wells in 2001? Serena, then 19, was booed throughout the match as it was rumored that her father manipulated matches between the sisters. Later, Serena was involved in several controversial situations, one which culminated in losing the 2009 US Open. Serena has been drug tested more than any tennis player, male or female and never tested positive. She was pregnant when she won the 2017 Australian Open and later that year experienced a life-threatening pulmonary embolism during childbirth. For a long time, Venus struggled with Sjogren’s syndrome, an autoimmune disease. But still they played on. Serena’s career spanned 27 years and Venus is still playing. They inspired the next generation of Black players, including Madison Keyes, Sloane Stevens, Naomi Osaka and Coco Gauff.

These are just a few examples of how women’s tennis has been at the forefront of cultural and political change. We’re no longer an “all-white” sport. We work hard, we’re fit, strong and smart. Our ranks boast women of color, mothers, LBGTQ+, broadcasters, influencers, fashion moguls and outspoken leaders for gender equity. You and I learn the same lessons as the pros, just in a smaller arena. The highs are just as high and the hurts just as painful. When we look back, we love our victories and remember those painful defeats, but it’s the women we’ve known forever at those competitions and look forward to seeing on the other side of the net at the next match -- and at the bar afterward -- that we remember most.

Am I getting sentimental? You bet. Fiftieth anniversaries give us permission to reflect, laugh and even shed a few tears around the relationships we’ve made and are continuing to make because of tennis. So, here’s to the next 50 years of on and off court memories and life lessons for generations to come.