Redeeming the wettest Wimbledon since the Flood, Venus Williams sailed to her fourth singles title, and Roger Federer tied Bjorn Borg's record of five straight with an epic win over rival Rafael Nadal

	Like the athletic Williams, the triumphant Federer showed courage equal to his amazing talent. Bob Martin/SI

Let's pretend you are, say, an insurance salesman. You're damn good at your job, world-class even. You clock in every day. You miss family functions on account of work. You try like hell to improve your performance rating and keep ascending the ladder. But there are these two colleagues -- siblings, no less! -- blocking your progress. They seem to pop into the office only when the mood strikes. They miss all the meetings and those insufferable "team building" outings because they're off acting or designing clothes or doing Lord knows what else. They take lots of sick leave, too. But when there's money on the table, they're the best around. They swoop in, perform with breathtaking skill and close the biggest accounts. Argh!

So perhaps you can commiserate with the rank-and-file on the WTA Tour. Most of the women are full-timers, devoting their lives to tennis. Yet, again and again Serena and Venus Williams emerge, often from far off the radar, to win the biggest tournaments. At January's Australian Open, Serena entered ranked No. 81, having played just four events in all of last year, and took the title. Last week at waterlogged Wimbledon, it was Venus's turn.

Williams the Elder descended on London ranked No. 31, seeded 23rd only by virtue of her previous grass-court success. She had played so poorly last month at the French Open, failing to get past the third round, that her father, Richard, said she might as well shelve her rackets. Even at Wimbledon she was hardly the picture of single-minded focus. She read. She played with the Mac program GarageBand. She strolled hand-in-hand with her boyfriend, PGA Tour player Hank Kuehne. "I was like, 'Shouldn't you be concentrating more on your matches?' " her mother and coach, Oracene Price, says with a laugh.

No matter. On Saturday, by the time Venus had pasted her final serve and lasered her last crosscourt forehand, capping a stunning display of grass-court tennis, she had won her fourth Wimbledon singles trophy. She was the lowest-ranked female ever to take the title. She added still another chapter to her family's endlessly engrossing narrative. And none of it surprised her. "I always believe in my game," she says. "Losing never really crosses my mind."

Hear that? Plenty is made of Williams's unmistakable physical gifts, and they were on vivid display last week. It's not for nothing that Williams has won four of her six career majors on the lawns of the All England Club, a surface that rewards movement and power. The best athlete in the history of women's tennis, Williams scurried from sideline to sideline, not only reaching every ball but also blasting it back. Her average serve for the tournament traveled at 115 mph, a speed that all but seven other female players failed to clock even once. Williams even won her share of points at the net. But ultimately this was more a triumph of will than of ability. For all her other assets, Williams possesses the most precious tennis gift of all: boundless self-confidence. Like Serena, Venus is, as she puts it, "a big-match player." To her way of thinking, self-belief conquers all, from stale form to nagging injuries.