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A Ringing Endorsement
Rick Reilly
September 21, 1998
There's the damn doorbell and you're still in your hangover and you just know it's those annoying Jehovah's Witnesses. So you fling the door open to ask them if they'd mind coming back next century, and who do you see standing there but Venus and Serena Williams, their beads bouncing, their braces gleaming, wanting to know if you have a minute to chat about the Lord.
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September 21, 1998

A Ringing Endorsement

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Not the Williams sisters. The Williams sisters may be a lot of things, but they're not victims. I wouldn't become a Jehovah's Witness even if its only spiritual requirement were facing toward Hershey, Pa., and eating Milk Duds, but I admire the way they're unafraid to stand up for their religion. Also the way they're unafraid of tennis's virtually all-white press, tennis's virtually all-white locker rooms and, come to think of it, virtually all-white tennis. They say what they want, say it well and hate to lose.

In other words, don't answer the door.

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