"Luck has nothing to do with it, because I have spent many, many hours, countless hours, on the court working for my one moment in time, not knowing when it would come"
About this Quote
“Luck has nothing to do with it” is less a denial than a reclamation. Serena Williams is pushing back against one of sports culture’s favorite ways to domesticate greatness: call it a lucky break, a hot streak, a moment where the universe smiled. For an athlete who has been relentlessly mythologized and policed, “luck” can be a soft insult, a way to shrink a career into a coin flip and make domination feel accidental, palatable, and therefore easier to dismiss.
The line works because it’s built on tension. She acknowledges the seduction of the “one moment in time” narrative - the highlight reel, the single championship point, the iconic image - then undercuts it with the unglamorous math of labor: “many, many hours, countless hours.” The repetition is doing heavy lifting; it sounds like someone who’s had to say this before, someone tired of having her competence framed as surprise. It’s also a quiet thesis about how elite performance is manufactured: you train for a door that might never open, and you still show up like it will.
There’s vulnerability in “not knowing when it would come.” She’s admitting uncertainty without conceding randomness. The subtext is faith in preparation as an act of control in a career defined by variables you can’t command - injury, officiating, public scrutiny, the pressure to be “effortless.” Williams makes the moment feel earned twice: once on the court, and again in the story we tell about it.
The line works because it’s built on tension. She acknowledges the seduction of the “one moment in time” narrative - the highlight reel, the single championship point, the iconic image - then undercuts it with the unglamorous math of labor: “many, many hours, countless hours.” The repetition is doing heavy lifting; it sounds like someone who’s had to say this before, someone tired of having her competence framed as surprise. It’s also a quiet thesis about how elite performance is manufactured: you train for a door that might never open, and you still show up like it will.
There’s vulnerability in “not knowing when it would come.” She’s admitting uncertainty without conceding randomness. The subtext is faith in preparation as an act of control in a career defined by variables you can’t command - injury, officiating, public scrutiny, the pressure to be “effortless.” Williams makes the moment feel earned twice: once on the court, and again in the story we tell about it.
Quote Details
| Topic | Work Ethic |
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