Eavesdrop shots at a family affair

Serena an awesome winner but the crowd are still awaiting a classic as the similarity of styles precludes great tennis

Anti-climax? Not quite. But still we wait for a classic, a match of real contrast and discernible change of pace from the two best players in the Williams family and, coincidentally, the world. Serena was palpably the stronger of the sisters yesterday on Centre Court, but the crowd have yet to establish a rapport with either of the Americans, so the atmosphere lacked the vital elements of tension, partisanship, confrontation.

The silence on Centre Court was punctuated by occasional cries for Venus or Serena; the dominant sound was a gasp of astonishment at the awesome ferocity of the younger sister's groundstrokes. On the courts of Compton, the Los Angeles suburb where the Williamses' early exchanges were played out in blessed anonymity, the chapter of the manual marked "drop shots, angles and other subtleties" remains unread. Find the ball, hit it as hard as possible as deep as possible and hope it does not come back. But the family motto does not translate into entertaining tennis.

At least, the conspiracy theorists were blown out, if not for good, then until the US Open where the pair will duly meet again, barring injury, floodwaters or plague. No one has come close to matching either of the sisters for consistent hitting here on the grass. Venus inexplicably lost a set to Maureen Drake in the third round; Serena won her first title without conceding a set and, from the fourth round to the final, lost a mere 14 games. Tomorrow she will wake up as a double grand slam champion and the world No 1. "But," said Venus, "at least I'll be able to sneak a look at the Wimbledon trophy."

Nothing, though, dispelled the sense of unease felt by both players and spectators. It is like eavesdropping on a family afternoon in the garden. Venus points her chair towards the royal box, not out of curiosity to check on the guest list, but to avoid eye contact with her sister. At the changeover in the tie-break, the pair change ends on different sides of the net. Never for a moment, except for the service, is there even one flicker of recognition. "I just sit there the way the chair is facing," Venus explained. "She turns it around."

Questions about the emotional eddies of these childhood replays are batted into the backstop. "It's never been difficult to play against her," said Venus, though everyone in the room knows that to be untrue. They are learning. There was a genuine ferocity in the exchanges, particularly in the first set which had just enough twists and turns to maintain interest. Serena's grunts matched Venus's squeals and, when an ace wrapped up the tie-break in 45 minutes, it was accompanied by the most definitive growl of the match.

The duels which once favoured Venus have now turned decisively the way of her younger sister, but it is not a state which Venus intends to prolong. "It's not fun losing, no matter who you lose to," she said. "It's not something that I'm going to get used to or try to adjust to because I'm not one for losing often." Besides coaching her sister on the niceties of the curtsey, the tutorial has ended.

"I didn't do a curtsey to the guy, though," said Serena. "Venus said she wasn't sure whether you were supposed to curtsey or not, so she did a little one. I didn't do that. Older sisters are always the wisest." But not necessarily the strongest.

The emotional confusion was summed up as the final point confirmed Serena as the new champion. Serena dropped her racket, then had no clue what to do next. She turned her palms to the sky and shrugged, then remembered herself and did a little dance of delight. Then she blew a kiss to all the corners of the court in imitation of Andre Agassi. But never has a Wimbledon trophy been so unconvincingly celebrated.

As the pair waited for the arrival of Princess Alexandra, Venus left her chair and chatted to her sister. It has happened before, victor and vanquished reflecting quietly together, but never before has one plucked a stray eyelash from the face of the other as Serena did to Venus. It was the one natural gesture of the afternoon, a signal that hostilities were over and normal relationships could be resumed. Venus rubbed her shoulder, but refused to use the soreness as an excuse.

"And you really have to respect her not only as a person, as a player and as a sister because not everyone would do that," she said. "She's a real champion. It's amazing. Dad always said that one day we would be playing in the final of Wimbledon and the US Open and here we were 10, 15 years later. It's hard to get one Wimbledon champion, now he's got two."

The doubtful pleasure for the women's game is that, quite apart from the hidden understanding, the similarity of styles precludes great tennis. Rallies are limited; points are dictated by winners or errors, nothing in between. So, like a conjuror revealing his secrets, there is only a single trick to enjoy. Once you have appreciated the power, there is nothing left to watch. With Martina Hingis on the wane, Jennifer Capriati looking underpowered and Justine Henin too delicate, the authority of the Williams sisters has emerged unchallenged from this tournament, which leaves the shop window of the game decidedly short of thematic variety.

"The others have got to get in the gym and out on the track and get fitter," said Martina Navratilova, nine times champion. "The next step is for someone to change the pace, handle the heavy ball and get to the net." It is a tall order for the next generation. Maybe, with practice, the Williams sisters will perfect their final act, learn how to master their fears and stop counting the titles. Both sisters now know the etiquette for the Centre Court, know when to curtsey and who to. Maybe they will urge each other to unimaginable feats of athleticism and endurance. The game needs them to set aside the eyelash-plucking and test each other's limits. No one else can.