Bright light of Venus rising A game set to her advantage

ghetto background

of Venus Williams and the people

who are helping

guide her towards

another world

FROM the seventh-floor offices of District Attorney Stephen Kay you can see one tiny patch of green in the crossword of concrete which comprises Compton, California, a throwback to the Old West where they shoot first and

couldn't care less whether anyone asks questions later.

Kay, the man who put Charles Manson and his infamous family in jail, admits his department is swamped with trouble, with gang warfare and killings, with crime as casual a

pastime as Monday-night football.

And he shrugs in frustration at the ongoing, uphill struggle to simply

contain the urban battlefield.

Which is what it is on the streets of Compton, a 40-minute drive from central Los Angeles, a journey made only by those who have to. There is no pleasure here, only high fearlessness.

There are few communities further removed from the game of lawn tennis and the admittedly fading Wimbledon traditions of gentility and fair play but it is where one of this year's great hopefuls comes from.

Venus Williams learned the game on potholed public courts where

bullets were almost as likely to come whizzing over the net as tennis balls. She doesn't find that so shocking. She lived with it: ''Everybody seems

surprised by our attitude to it but that's just the way it was in Compton. When you grow up in a gang city that's what you know.''

She is now based in the more humid but less fraught environment of coastal Florida, in a generation gap of a resort town where you either move to achieve or fade. Venus Williams is blooming.

In the past weeks she has strutted her tennis expertise on courts in California and Florida worrying her opponents and winning respect. She is hard to miss; she is a willowy 6ft 1in with a smile that seems just as wide as she is tall; her hairstyle is wild; braided and beaded in a rainbow of colours.

Her game, arms and legs flying, is like a windmill on illicit ingredients. She has no need of spin doctors.

At 16, she has emerged with the apparent ability and absolute ambition to be number one on the Women's Tennis Association (WTA) tour. She has begun her charge up the talent charts and will continue it with her first trip outside America to compete at the French Open and Wimbledon this year.

Women's tennis, in the doldrums with the loss through age, injury, and happenstance, of Martina Navratilova, Monica Seles, and Jennifer Capriati, a couple of years ago, would have liked the phenomenon of Venus Williams to have risen sooner. Like everything, tennis thrives on characters. The bland and the boring do not sell tickets or tempt sponsors.

Whatever pressures were put on the Williams family they were resisted. Richard Williams and his wife, Oracene, possibly because of their education in the need for care and caution in Compton, were not blinded by fame or dollar signs. Richard Williams, 54, especially has played his own game.

This slow-burn looks for the moment as if it has beaten the burnout of so many tennis prodigies. It is a sign of character that Williams - he calls his daughter the ''Cinderella of the Ghetto'' - has stood his ground but he has welcomed that trinity of modern sport to his entourage, the accountant, lawyer, and stockbroker. They tell, in turn, what you're making, invent deals to keep making it, and invest it so that it makes even more all by itself.

Venus Williams will be 17 on June 17 this year and it is a reflection on the way the women's tennis tour has gone that such an age should seem old. But she is part of what many associated with the game said they wanted. The pitfalls for any aspirant to the tennis dream seemed endless.

It is understandable how potential earnings and the lucrative endorsements, both financial and professional - what teenager doesn't want to be rich, famous, and admired? - can disguise the sacrifices required in becoming a tennis star, never mind sensation.

Richard Williams says too pushy tennis parents and coaches should ''be shot''. He had insisted his daughter would not turn professional at age 14. She did, trumping his wishes with her own. By doing so she just slipped in the window which was closed three years ago. After 1994 girls who turned professional under the age of 18 would be limited to a small number of events. The rule was initiated after a WTA committee found the demands on young girls unhealthy.

There was plenty of precedent. The injury that sidelined Andrea Jaegar (the youngest seed in Wimbledon history at age 15), the burnout spiral of Jennifer Capriati (a bright-eyed pro at 13, a multi-millionaire at 14, on drug charges at 17, and now, at 20, in the second comeback of her career), the knifing of Monica Seles, now 23, the need for Mary Pierce to get a court order to keep her verbally abusive father at bay. Of course, you take the extreme examples but what warrants taking away, second-guessing, a childhood?

The Williams family had always said their banner carrier was different. And she was. There was already a Greta Garbo mystique about Williams when she made her professional debut in Oakland, California, in the winter of 1994. Until then she had not played in public for three years.

She defeated Shaun Stafford in straight sets and put up a strong showing in a thrilling match against the second-ranked Arantxa Sanchez Vicario. Those snapshots of her potential raised expectations and the height of the headlines about her.

More telling about the Williams family and the fact that they and she are different was the behaviour of her father. During her victory over Stafford her father wandered around the stands shouting: ''Come on, Shaun.'' On the afternoon of her second round match against Sanchez Vicario while his daughter was on the practice courts he went up to her opponent and took her by the hand saying: ''I hope you win.'' The young player nodded in amazement: ''You hope I win?''

Williams enjoys wrong-footing the tennis world, doing and saying the unexpected. He's called enigmatic but argues: ''I don't know what that means.'' Round-faced, he has an easy smile and manner - unless under pressure when he is a tough negotiator.

One of the early deals he did for his daughter was with members of the Crips gang in Compton. He wanted Venus and her younger sister, by two years, to have the freedom to play on public tennis courts without the threat of interruption by thugs shooting dope or bullets. His pitch was that his daughters were training to do good for the community and for Afro-Americans. It was he who suggested it was the gang members' duty to protect such an enterprise.

So, gang members guarded the cracked tennis courts on which the Williams sisters practised with dead balls. It proved so successful that soon the unofficial police force became redundant.

''It was,'' says DA Stephen Kay, ''unprecedented co-operation for the gang members, some of whom are known killers.''

It was shortly after the 10-year-old Venus Williams won the under-12s Southern California Girls championship title that her father brought off another deal. He signed up with the Rick Macci Tennis Academy in Delray Beach. The arrangement gave Venus and Serena free scholarships and the family their own home on the Atlantic coast.

''When I first hit balls with them in 1991 I believed both Venus and Serena had champion written all over them,'' says Macci, adding, ''I had no doubt that Venus would be prime time. I always say she would run over glass to hit a shot. I wouldn't have made the commitment to the family if I didn't think she could become number one in the world.

''Our agreement was that if the girls were successful that's when the financial arrangement would kick in. Richard has been more than generous. I worked with the girls about 30 hours a week in the beginning. It went down to 10 hours a week - Richard doesn't have Venus practising as much before a tournament. She always needed experience - all players do.

''You've got to give Richard a lot of credit. He wanted to take it slow and that says a lot about him as a Dad. You've got to respect him for that.'' Macci, who has moved his headquarters to Fort Lauderdale - the Williams family have settled up the coast in West Palm Beach - trained Capriati at an equally formative age: ''I saw the same qualities in Venus as I saw in Jennifer. Venus has Michael Jordan-style ability. She's very entertaining but with a unique style.''

Venus Williams doesn't give flameout a moment's notice. Her confidence charges into a room moments before her. She's been sniped at by other competitors on the tour for saying she's going to be number one but shrugs at that: ''I say that to give myself drive - something to shoot for.''

Her father insists he has been trying to get her to give up tennis since she was eight years old. If true, his inability to do so is just a slight indication of the energy his daughter has. In turn, her parents have patience. Her mother takes five hours to braid and bead her hair. Her father has taken years to cash the walking cheque his daughter represents. ''I wanted Venus to play for herself and for her dog. I didn't want her to perform for anyone. We are doing this our way.''

She says she at first resisted her father's softly, softly, go-slow approach but finally accepted it: ''Playing fewer tournaments had nothing to do with me thinking I can be the best. The reason I didn't want to play in all those tournaments was because you stay in hotels for weeks and weeks and I was too young to do that. And I didn't want to do that.

Tennis is meant to be fun, you know?''

In a world where reborn Jerry Maguire sports agents are just so much Hollywood fantasy the Williams family have beaten off the panting, greedy vultures.

Sports psychologist James Loehr believes that was good: ''A young player should be brought into the pro arena gradually. It's not just how to handle matches but everything else, the press, the losses, and just being away from the normal environment.

''And Venus is a young black girl excelling in a sport that, despite the success of Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe, is predominantly white. We know from what Arthur said in his books that being black added a great deal to his journey. In fact, he said it was the most difficult part of his

journey. How Venus handles it will be determined by how she perceives it. She can see it as a burden or a great opportunity.''

Her grin and attitude radiates opportunity as the answer. Her appeal is generous. The tennis community is sceptical about her tennis upbringing. When her father stopped her playing junior tournaments and left her game to Macci they argued that this was no preparation for big league tournaments. Even Macci was wary: ''When she joined the tour it was a little like

driving the Indy 500 the day after getting your driver's licence.''

But Williams wanted it his way. He has always been certain his daughter would not be nervous or overwhelmed: ''We're from the ghetto. Venus is a ghetto Cinderella. People from the ghetto don't get nervous. You think Mike Tyson ever got nervous?''

Williams moved his two youngest girls out of Curver Middle School in Delray Beach and began teaching them at home with the help of his wife, their older sister, Lyndrell, now 19, and hired tutors. Part of that education was for Venus to speak at inner-city schools: ''I know I should go back there because that's where I'm from. It's my roots.''

But by the time she had slipped on the glass slipper that attitude to her in Compton, as in elsewhere, had changed. ''When I went there the attention was just too much. Everyone was in my face.''

This was at a time when the family were deciding on their strategy. And during Jennifer Capriati's downfall, her rebellion against her parents and her arrest on a marijuana possession charge.

''It was like the Jennifer thing painted a picture for me,'' says Richard Williams filling it in: ''The same age. The same connection to Rick Macci. The same kind of debut and media overkill. Did we want to go down the same road as Jennifer Capriati? I'd seen enough freak show kids throwing tantrums in California. Parents yelling at kids, parents fighting other parents. We made our minds up to do it our way - our goal was not junior tennis. Our goal was to be number one in the world. That's still the goal.''

That spot is being splendidly guarded at present by Martina Hingis - named by her tennis mad mum for Martina Navratilova - who is the youngest Number One since the women's tennis rankings began in 1975. She won the Australian Open in January, becoming the youngest player to win a Grand Slam title this century. Compared to Williams (she is three months younger) whom she beat (6-4, 6-2) at the Lipton Championships in Florida in March the Swiss player is a veteran in her third season.

Hingis, precise and insular like her country, believes Capriati's downfall was more to do with her family situation than the age at which she joined the tennis tour. ''I never had any of that - we never felt threatened.''

Helyn Edwards, the men's and women's tennis coach at American University, often gets the defaults from the tour: ''I usually get them when their relationship with their tennis parents is not that great. In many cases it's been real rocky. I even had one father who tied his daughter's feet to bricks just to get her to learn to volley.

''That brings on some strange behaviour. Often these tennis 'phenomenons' have gotten away with their own unacceptable behaviour because parents ignore them. They drop them off to spend all day with their coach without any chance of normal socialisation. When they do see the child acting up they ignore that too for the dollar signs saying go for it all.''

Dr James Loehr was one of the consultants who determined the age eligibility cut-off for the women's tour. ''It was to do with career longevity and not just in regards to tennis but with the recognition that the prepubescent period is the most important time for peer affiliation, self-identity, and personal growth.''

In other words, Dr Loehr agreed, kids should be allowed to be kids.

Most of the top players of recent years never graduated from high school - the argument being that their education, in every sense, for future life is non-existent.

However, some still argue that the hangover from the Capriati case is out of proportion. One person is tennis teaching professional Dennis Van der Meer.

He says: ''Different kids develop differently. If a 14-year-old girl has the talent and skill to perform at the pro level how do you tell her she can't? Capriati was ready at that age; she'd won everything up through the 18s. If she hadn't turned pro, her fame would have stagnated. To use her as an example of what has gone wrong with tennis is ridiculous.''

Jeff Austin, brother of Tracey and a player-management agent, says: ''Jennifer Capriati was a kid who was rebelling against her parents. The problems weren't that much with tennis. She needed a foundation in other areas of her life.''

Tracey Austin has always been seen as a classic victim of tennis pressure but she maintained her grades at her high school on the outskirts of Los Angeles while playing the tour.

She says: ''The pro tour has never been reality. School gave me balance. It let me hang on to something normal. I believe a requirement for being on the tour should be continuing in school with passing grades.''

Andrea Jaegar, out of tennis physically (a shoulder injury) and mentally by the age of 18, says: ''Young girls should know they are people first and tennis players second. They should know they are loved whether they win or lose. It's suffocating time.

''You don't fit in anywhere. Not school - you're gone too much. Not the tour - you're too young. Not at home -you're too old for hugs and kisses from your parents.'' Richard and Oracene Williams say their daughters will never be too old for hugs. They have imprinted on their minds the real-life problems of raising children amid poverty and violence, the hardship of single-parent families. Also they say they have seen most of the tennis tour terrors.

They have witnessed matches where their daughter's opponent fears her - but is frightened even more of her parents if she comes off court the loser.

Venus Williams flies off to foreign lands not so much cocooned but insulated and we will have to wait to find out whether such circumstances cancel the stress or make it more crushing. So far, it hasn't knocked back the audacious teenager, who says with a smile that challenges contradiction: ''I think I can change the game.''

If she can, Venus Williams plc is not far away. Already in place is the structure for a company: lawyer Keven Davis of Seattle, accountant Larry Bailey from Washington DC, and stockbroker Leland Hardy who is also a former professional boxer and family friend.

''It's gotten scary,'' says Oracene Williams of the empire-building. ''This is a totally different world from where we came from. I think we are all just trying to stay balanced - trying to stay on the high ground.''

So far there has been no sign of the family being drowned. They plan to stay in charge. Nick Bollettieri is the most renowned or infamous - depending on your experience - junior tennis coach in American. His ''camp'' in Bradenton near Sarasota, Florida, has been home to hundreds of hopeful youngsters including Andre Agassi, Monica Seles, and Venus Williams.

Both Seles and Williams fled Bollettieri's tennis conveyor belt among the north Florida orange groves. They went back to their father's control. Mary Pierce did the opposite. She left her father Jim to join Bollettieri. When all that was happening he introduced a new policy - no parents allowed on court. He wanted no more interference.

He says: ''When things go wrong question the kids in one room and the parents in another and you'll find the core of the trouble. Trouble always starts when ambition overreaches ability or the goals of one don't match with those of another.''

Tennis legend Jack Kramer was an early believer in Venus Williams. He was convinced that her ambition and ability were dovetailed: ''Venus just might be the greatest of them all, the real McCoy.''

Before she started living up to Kramer's endorsement this year the sportswear company Reebok were also sure of the future of the tall, high-cheekboned youngster. She was 15 when they signed her up to promote tennis gear aimed at girls aged 12 to 18.

''Young women become extremely fashion-conscious around 12 and like to look smart so it's Reebok's way of talking to that audience,'' says Jane Perry, a Reebok designer. ''I worked closely with her to come up with pieces she feels teenagers would be comfortable wearing''

''She loves denim shorts so we did chambray denim shorts, shirts and overalls. There's also jersey tips with contrast denim stitching, a denim bodysuit leotard and Lycra shorts that peek out from under a skirt.

''She's a youngster so this is young - it's not classic tennis wear. But it's pretty feminine. She's going to wear a bra top under a denim dress. It's the Venus Williams signature line.''

Sports marketeer Brian Murphy believes Reebok with their six-figure contract aced their competition by signing Williams: ''She's got a positive and appealing image which is crucial to moving merchandise. She's also one of the few African-Americans doing well in a sport dominated by whites so she's going to draw in a new audience - young black women.

''Kids see her as a role model. And as such she transcends race just like Michael Jordan or Magic Johnson - they're sports stars full stop. Venus has all the potential, in the sport and in marketing, to be a breakthrough sports star and celebrity.''

The star herself says: ''You don't see too many black people playing tennis. It's mostly because tennis is an expensive sport. But I should give back to the community because not everyone has a role model. Everyone is falling into trouble these days. I want to be a good girl. There's no hurry for me. I've got the game to beat anyone. I was never very interested in going to Wimbledon before but it's going to be fun. It's different cultures. I want to experience that. And there will be a lot of tennis.''

Her attitude to the game is clearly influenced by her family, especially her father. She says she does not want to devote herself exclusively to the Tour, fighting through painful injuries: ''I don't want to say I spent all my youth on tennis. It is such a strain always stretching for a ranking and all the travel. I like to have familiar things around me, my dogs and car.

''But I'm really happy about going to Wimbledon. I'm quick, very fast and grass works for me. Grass and me - we get along. I don't think I'll be intimidated by the big occasion, the history and tradition.

''And I'm happy to play Martina or whoever. I like to play the best people I can because it helps me play my best. I feel that I am the best. That's just how I feel. Believing that makes you play better and makes you have more pride. I've got the game to beat anyone.''

So, the denim-and-bra-top-queen heads for Paris, Eastbourne, and Wimbledon. She says she wanted to play the French Open so she can show off her knowledge of the language. ''What's the point of learning French if I can't talk it?''

Her father had reservations about her Grand Slam debut even in early March. But they have vanished. His daughter wanted the experience of Europe. The image of Richard Williams is that of Mr Control, but he admits: ''You can't really say no to these kids these days, not the way parents did in my day. And to be honest, if I did, I'm afraid I'd lose them.''

That's the only time losing gets into the Williams family vocabulary.