Serena needs to bring back ‘catsuit tennis’  To win another Slam, Williams must show the world we’re not ‘ready for this jelly’

NEW YORK — Serena Williams didn’t look like herself for most of Saturday’s US Open final defeat against Bianca Andreescu, and she knew it.

“I believe I could have played better,” Williams said in her postmatch news conference. “I believe I could have done more. I believe I could have just been more Serena today. I honestly don’t think Serena showed up. I have to kind of figure out how to get her to show up in Grand Slam finals.”

Serena did show up, but not for enough of the match. Her first serve seemed to have disintegrated, and she double-faulted on key points. After far too long, she started to come back to tie the second set at 5-5 before losing 6-3, 7-5.

The crowd responded with ear-splitting roars every time Williams won a point, and then another, and then a game in the second set. They had come hoping to witness history in the form of a 24th major victory that would have tied Margaret Court’s record for most Grand Slam singles titles. They came to see what Williams does best, to witness what sportswriter Lindsay Gibbs dubbed “Catsuit Tennis.”

In 2002, here at Flushing Meadows, Williams debuted her first black catsuit, a Puma creation that was bound to turn heads. She’d won her first Grand Slam title ever at Arthur Ashe Stadium in 1999, then exited in the quarterfinals in 2000, and then lost to her older sister Venus in the 2001 final.

In this Sept. 6, 2002, photo, Serena Williams wears a black Puma catsuit as she plays Lindsay Davenport in the US Open semifinals in New York. Williams went on to win the tournament for the second time.

AP Photo/Elise Amendola

But 2002 — she owned 2002. Williams came into the US Open that year with the swagger of a woman who’d won Roland Garros and then Wimbledon and done it the Williams Way, the way her father, Richard, had taught her: by embracing her difference and her exceptionalism.

The catsuit said it all.

Paired with blond microbraids, it was shiny, form-fitting and more than a little bit dangerous. The sort of thing you dare not wear unless you’ve got the goods to back it up. It moved with her, gliding over her curves. Puma constructed the catsuit with two heavy parallel seams running down the front, from the armpits, over her breasts and midriff, all the way to her thighs. It had a crew neck, with a zipper that converted it into a V-neck. Serena paired it with a pink wristband and a $29,000 Harry Winston tennis bracelet.

In 2001, Destiny’s Child released a hit single, “Bootylicious.” The song opened with a guitar riff pulled from Stevie Nicks’ “Edge of Seventeen.” But it was the repeated lines of the chorus that made it a hit: “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

The Catsuit didn’t say, “I think.” Instead, it screamed, “I know you’re not ready for this jelly.”

Washington Post fashion critic Robin Givhan deemed the look “salacious.”

“… her tight black tennis romper was the stylistic equivalent of trash talk,” Givhan continued. “It looked trashy. And it did her a disservice. … Her admirers paint a picture of poise and exuberance, talent and physical grace. One only wishes that Williams would use her wealth and notoriety to paint herself in equally flattering terms.”

It didn’t matter how much it rattled tennis watchers that the Williams sisters, especially Serena, refused to be swaddled in chaste, preppy tradition. There was no romance there, just unapologetic domination.

Serena won the whole enchilada in New York in 2002, defeating Venus, the defending champ, 6-4, 6-3. Then she went on the win the 2003 Australian Open, thereby establishing the #SerenaSlam. The catsuit was a symbolic representation of everything that seemed to fuel the Williamses. They would take everyone’s disapproval, run it through the family catalytic converter and turn it into wins. They carried themselves like professional wrestling villains who relish ticking everyone off by demolishing the favorites.

Serena Williams in action wearing another catsuit against Julia Goerges of Germany during the 2018 French Open on June 2 in Paris.

Tim Clayton/Corbis via Getty Images

It made sense then, as Williams was beginning her postpartum comeback, that she’d don a catsuit at the 2018 French Open, albeit one that ran down the length of her legs. Williams was relying on the compression to aid in preventing blood clots. She said the catsuit made her feel like a “warrior princess” from Wakanda, and it caused so much of a stir that French Tennis Federation president Bernard Giudicelli banned it from future tournaments and accused Williams of not having enough respect for the game.

Williams enthusiastically embraces her role as a tennis iconoclast — one does not show up on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar seemingly inviting haters to kiss her unretouched bottom unless one takes pleasure in being defiantly cheeky. (Her husband, Alexis Ohanian, is a philosophical match, showing up wearing a D.A.R.E. T-shirt to Williams’ first-round contest against Maria Sharapova on Aug. 26. It appeared to be a rather pointed reference to Sharapova’s 2016 suspension for using the banned substance meldonium.)

But for much of Saturday, Catsuit Serena was nowhere to be found.

Williams entered Arthur Ashe Stadium the fan favorite and in one of the more conventional competition looks she’s ever worn outside of Wimbledon: a long-sleeved lilac top, paired with a twirly skater skirt. It seemed like an odd choice for a Serena final, especially one against a 19-year-old opponent whose aggressive, muscly style mimics her own. In Williams’ two previous matches, she wore a 2019 version of The Catsuit, this one designed by Nike. She also wore it in her opening victory over Sharapova. The material was more matte than wet n wild, but the message it carried was the same: “I’m nearly 38, I almost died giving birth, and no, you’re still not ready for this jelly.”

Williams pumps her fist after defeating Elina Svitolina in the semifinals of the US Open on Sept. 5.

JASON SZENES/EPA-EFE/Shutterstock

She pounded down quarterfinal and semifinal victories against Qiang Wang and Elina Svitolina, respectively, with her brand-name style of fierce, authoritative drop shots, excellent serving and unrelenting dominance. Knowing her preference for quick, soul-demolishing baseline games, her opponents would try to force her to the net. It didn’t matter. Her look matched her game. Saturday, however, was another story.

At this point, Williams need not accomplish another thing to prove that she’s the Greatest of All Time. Saturday, she wouldn’t even acknowledge that she’s eyeing Court’s record.

“I’m not necessarily chasing a record,” Williams said in her postmatch news conference. “I’m just trying to win Grand Slams. It’s definitely frustrating, you know. But for the most part, I just am still here. I’m still doing what I can do.”

But Williams has now lost four straight Grand Slam finals, and the 2019 losses, in particular, have come after exciting tournament runs characterized, by, well, Catsuit Tennis. She’s still terrific, but her position within the game has changed. She’s no longer the upstart foil. Now she’s a respected grande dame.

If she is to tie Court’s record and then surpass it, another catsuit might be exactly what she needs.

Venus showed Serena how to win Poet Nikki Giovanni meditates on Venus and Serena’s bond and reflects on her own relationship with her late sister, Gary Ann

Even at my age, understanding what love is, is difficult.

I’m a baby sister, too, and I remember watching my big sister be able to do everything. They used to tease me: “Nikki, can you read?” “No, but Gary Ann can.” “Nikki, can you play the piano?” “No, but Gary Ann can.” “Nikki, can you dance?” “No, but Gary Ann can.”

From left to right: The Giovanni family: Sister Gary Ann Giovanni, mother Yolande Watson Giovanni, father Gus Giovanni and poet Nikki Giovanni.

Courtsey of Nikki Giovanni

Gary Ann was a wonderful big sister with bangs, smooth skin and dimples. I had braids. And I was so proud that I had a big sister who could do all the important things. Similarly, Serena Williams was the little girl watching the rabbit run down the rabbit hole. There were other sisters whom she could have emulated, but she chose this one. And I have to think this one chose her. “Ms. Rabbit, Ms. Rabbit, where are you going?” “To wonderland to be the queen.” “Can I come too? I’ll carry your groceries or fetch your patches for quilts. I can help.”

And off Serena went where no one else had gone before. Years ago, I watched for the first time Serena and Venus Williams played each other in a tournament, and the reporter kept asking, “Who will win?” Venus calmly and coolly said, “A Williams.” Venus not only won but she showed her baby sister how to win.

I recently watched Venus play Coco Gauff and I said to myself: “Venus is teaching Coco how to win too.”

Not by the score but by how you carry yourself. Wheaties is wonderful to have Serena on the box cover. I purchased four boxes to be framed for my granddaughter and myself and two friends. I want that box cover hanging from every wall in the kitchen. But it is Venus who has really taught them all.

Sure, Serena has 23 major championships and we are all so proud of her. Serena has shown us you can be a woman with attitude and muscles. You can learn to speak two languages. You can take the body that used to stand on an auction block and put it on the cover of Vanity Fair naked, pregnant, proud. And you can put that same body on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar wrapped in gold. You can be Sports Illustrated’s best-dressed with your green high heels and a smirk and find someone you love to share making a baby with. Little Alexis Olympia is lucky, though, to have Aunt Venus to show her running down the rabbit hole to meet the Queen isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

We give what we can. The Hare gave her speed to help her friend the Turtle feel better about herself. The poets give us words to say what we admire.

Serena gives us a new woman to say we are not afraid of our bodies or our minds. She had a big sister to say, “Don’t be afraid of yourself.” Having a big sister who loves you enough to be your teacher is great. We are all lucky for big sisters. And baby sisters who listen.

I never learned to play the piano, but I did sing a song as my big sister passed. And when my time comes, I hope I can answer, “Yes, Gary Ann, now I can do this too.”

Statue honoring Althea Gibson unveiled at the US Open ‘She’s our Jackie Robinson of tennis’

Just before a sculpture honoring Althea Gibson was unveiled Monday at the start of the 2019 US Open, former tennis pro Leslie Allen recalled a trip she took to Africa with Gibson, the first African American to win a tennis Grand Slam event. At one point, the two were talking and Gibson pointed toward a door.

“My job was to bust down — to break down — that door,” Gibson said to Allen. “So that you and the next generation could walk right on through. And each one of us would have more than the next.”

That generations were able to walk through that barrier — players such as Allen, Zina Garrison, Sloane Stephens and Venus and Serena Williams — was made possible by Gibson, who broke the color barrier in international tennis on the way to winning 11 Grand Slam (five singles) events during her professional career which began in 1941 in the American Tennis Association (the oldest African-American sports organization in America) before intense lobbying let her to break the color barrier and play at the U.S. National Championships (now the US Open) in 1950.

At a complex that’s named after Billie Jean King, and includes stadiums named after another pioneer (Arthur Ashe) and a jazz legend (Louis Armstrong), it’s rather perplexing that Gibson — who was once feted with a ticker tape parade down New York’s Canyon of Champions after winning Wimbledon in 1957 — wasn’t honored before her death in 2003.

The sculpture — a penetrating image of Gibson’s head emerging from a granite block, with five blocks on the side — sits on the southeast side of Arthur Ashe Stadium. The image of Gibson bursting from the blocks is symbolic, as well as one of her shoulders being exposed — the shoulder that the sculptor, Eric Goulder, said that “everybody since has stood on.”

The artwork weighs a total 18 tons. It was transported via an ocean freighter to the United States from Italy.

King, who was so inspired by the tennis pioneer that she used to sleep with Gibson’s 1958 biography “I Always Wanted to be Somebody,” said she had been pushing for recognition for Gibson on the grounds of the US Open since the 1970s. “Without a doubt, Althea was our Jackie Robinson,” King said.

Tennis great Althea Gibson (left) shows baseball legend Jackie Robinson (right) her backhand grip on Feb. 16, 1951, at the ANTA Theater Tennis Tournament in Manhattan.

Harvey Weber/Newsday RM via Getty Images

Incredibly, the final push to have Gibson — who was also the first black woman to play on the professional golf tour — recognized at the US Open came from a North Carolina youth tennis program, One Love, which is run by a friend of the late Gibson.

Two years ago that friend, Lenny Simpson, had his tennis students watch a documentary about Gibson. Afterward, the group discussed ways that Gibson should be honored, with Simpson explaining something needed to be done “even if it’s in the form of a hot dog stand.” That “hot dog stand” line was included in one of the letters the students sent to Katrina Adams, who at the time was the president of the USTA.

“They lit a fire under me,” Adams said on Monday. “That really touched me and got me going.”

Several of those letter writers were among the several hundred people on hand to watch the ceremony honoring Gibson. “We wrote the letters because we felt like she deserved it, but we didn’t know what would happen,” said 14-year-old Jal’leia Jeffries, one of the 40 members of One Love who made the 10-hour bus ride to New York for the ceremony. “I was excited that our letters actually did something.”

Aaliyah Jones, 14, who had seen the black cloth covering the sculpture as the group visited the grounds of the US Open over the weekend, was excited to see the final product. “It’s just nice knowing that our work paid off and that Althea Gibson got a statue that she rightfully deserved,” she said. “For me to have played a part of this, it makes me feel like I can accomplish anything I put my mind to.”

The One Love tennis group takes a picture with the Althea Gibson statue.

Courtesy of Jerry Bembry

Simpson, the head of the program, said he felt weak in the knees when he approached the sculpture. “I got goose bumps, and the hair on my arm started to raise up,” Simpson said. “When I finally settled down I just stood in front of it and said to myself, ‘Yes, the day has finally arrived.’ ”

There are reasons that a venue hasn’t been named after Gibson, and why a stadium on the grounds is named after a jazz artist. The USTA has a policy that blocks the naming of another court after a player, and also has an agreement with New York City barring the renaming of Louis Armstrong Stadium (which was inherited from the 1964 World’s Fair, where it was originally built as the Singer Bowl and renamed for the jazz artist in 1973).

Whether those reasons for not honoring Gibson were obstacles or excuses, she has finally received her proper recognition on the grounds of the US Open.

“It’s great that we finally have something to honor her here,” King said. “Her story told me what a true champion looked like, and to never give up. She opened up the door for all of us, enlightening all of us and inspiring all of us.”

Tracking Serena Williams’ journey through pictures 20 images of the tennis star that chronicle her personal achievements

Serena Williams has never been average.

While growing up, as friends spent time playing outside or lounging lazily during summers, she and sister Venus were focused. For as long as their father, Richard, had the ability to teach his daughters the art of tennis, there would be practice to perfect the craft. But it would be Williams whose passion for the sport would change how audiences watched tennis and how black women were seen in the sport.

At the age of 14, Serena turned professional and eventually began beating opponents one by one internationally. Williams’ status as a young tennis pro invited scrutiny from critics who refused to take her seriously, but she showed her strength using nothing but a ball and racket.

It wouldn’t take long for fans to see why and how she would dominate nearly every court she played on. And here we are, 820 career wins and 23 Grand Slam singles titles later.

Williams may be a tough competitor who wears her heart on her sleeve, but there’s an innate beauty about her grace and humility. Even during the pitfalls and losses in her career, she still finds a smile to congratulate competitors — most of whom have looked up to her in admiration their entire careers. It isn’t enough for most girls to want to play against their idol. They still wish to be their idol.

Off the court, Williams isn’t afraid to candidly talk about being a mom to her 1-year-old daughter, Alexis Olympia Ohanian Jr., who seemed to give Williams’ life new meaning, a different set of expectations and unmatched motivation.

She exudes power and fearlessness and redefines the meaning of a true competitor.

She is Serena Williams, a woman who continually changes the game of tennis one serve at a time.

Serena Williams in action on a tennis court in 1992.

Ken Levine/Getty Images

Serena Williams (right) and her sister Venus (left) stand with former President Ronald Reagan (center) at a tennis camp in Florida in 1990.

Ken Levine/Getty Images

Serena and her sister Venus ride with their father Richard Williams at a tennis camp in Florida in 1992.

Ken Levine/Getty Images

Lindsay Davenport (R) gives a thumbs up as teammates, (L-R) Venus Williams, Monica Seles, and Serena Williams of the USA pose after receiving the Fed Cup trophy after defeating Russia in 1999.

JOHN G. MABANGLO/AFP/Getty Images

Serena Williams celebrates her victory against Rita Kuti Kis during the first round at Wimbledon in 2001.

Jon Buckle/EMPICS/Getty Images

Venus and Serena Williams of the celebrate gold after winning the Women’s Doubles Tennis Final during the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney, Australia.

Gary M Prior/Getty Images

Serena Williams on court versus Jennifer Capriati during the quarter finals of the 2004 US Open.

A. Messerschmidt/Getty Images

Serena poses in the first ever ESPN The Magazine Body Issue in 2009.

James White for ESPN

Serena Williams (left) and Vogue editor Anna Wintour (right) pose for a photo before the spring 2009 Zac Posen show during New York Fashion Week in September 2008.

AP Photo/Seth Wenig

Serena Williams reacts as she is attired in traditional regalia on February 23, 2010 in the village of Wee, Makueni district, southeast of Nairobi as she inaugurates a school she funded. The school was built in collaboration with the charity ‘Build African Schools’.

TONY KARUMBA/AFP/Getty Images

Serena Williams hugs the championship trophy after defeating Victoria Azarenka during the 2013 US Open.

AP Photo/David Goldman

Fans press up against a fence to watch Serena Williams take part in Nike’s NYC Street Tennis event in August 2015.

AP Photo/Diego Corredor

Serena Williams celebrates with the winner’s trophy, the Venus Rosewater Dish, on the centre court balcony after her women’s singles final victory over Spain’s Garbine Muguruza during the the 2015 Wimbledon Championships.

Adrian Dennis/AFP/Getty Images

A patron takes a picture of a photograph of Serena Williams on display at the Multimedia Art Museum in Moscow. The photograph was part of an exhibition titled “The Cal: Pirelli Calendar 2016. Annie Leibovitz” as part of Photobiennale 2016 at the museum.

Valery Sharifulin/TASS/Getty Images

Serena Williams and her husband Alexis Ohanian arrive for the wedding ceremony of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle at St. George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle in Windsor, near London, England, Saturday, May 19, 2018.

AP Photo/Gareth Fuller

Serena Williams takes a selfie with husband Alexis Ohanian and their baby, Alexis Olympia Ohanian Jr., before a match in the first round of Fed Cup in Asheville, N.C., on Feb. 10, 2018.

AP Photo/Chuck Burton

At the 2018 French Open, Serena Williams wore a black catsuit that she said served a medical purpose. French Open officials have since implemented a stricter dress code that bans similar suits.

Tim Clayton/Corbis via Getty Images

Naomi Osaka and Serena Williams during the trophy ceremony after the 2018 US Open Final. Naomi Osaka won the US Open after Serena Williams accused the umpire of being a ‘thief’ in some of the most dramatic scenes at a Grand Slam final. Williams was given a game penalty for her outburst, which followed racquet smashing and another code violation as Osaka won 6-2 6-4.

Serena Williams arrives for the 2019 Met Gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 6, 2019. Williams was a host for the 2019 Gala, which theme was Camp: Notes on Fashion” inspired by Susan Sontag’s 1964 essay “Notes on Camp”.

ANGELA WEISS/AFP/Getty Images

The ESPYS Collection Portraits of past and present stars set the stage for this year’s awards show, July 10 at 9 p.m. ET


Raptors superfan Drake is the NBA’s biggest celebrity playoff antagonist — and he won’t stop anytime soon From trolling the Greek Freak to massaging Nick Nurse’s shoulders, Drake has made himself part of the Eastern Conference finals

There are many ways to look at Drake taking home the award for best supporting actor in a (postseason) drama. The great majority of which are true.

Are his courtside antics grating? Sure. Are they corny? Hilariously, yes. Was massaging Toronto Raptors coach Nick Nurse’s shoulders awkward? Yes, but it likely doesn’t even rank in the top 20 most cringeworthy moments of Drake’s career. Love and despise him, because people do both, his moment with Nurse was a quintessential “Drake going full Drake” moment.

Drake has long been a master at media manipulation and always understands where the camera is. The past week was nothing more than an affirmation. Has he officially taken the mantle as Spike Lee’s heir to most polarizing courtside celebrity? Yes. Drake is the NBA’s most recognizable overzealous superfan.

The Canadian rapper is back in the news for his imprint on the 2019 Eastern Conference finals. First, he helped Gucci Mane live up to his rhymes from “Both” — “I got so many felonies I might can’t never go to Canada/ But Drake said he gon’ pull some strings so let me check my calendar” — as the 1017 Brick Squad impresario, wearing a Giannis Antetokounmpo jersey, took in Game 3 on the wood at Scotiabank Arena. Their 2016 collaboration, not so ironically, was certified three times platinum this week. Then he mocked, taunted and laughed at the Milwaukee Bucks superstar for missing free throws and waved goodbye. On Tuesday during Game 4, he gave Nurse that eye-opening in-game massage, which ignited a firestorm of debates over etiquette and conduct. Drake’s now public enemy No. 1 in the Cream City for simply being, well, Drake. The superfan who acts just like a superfan, only he’s one of the most recognizable people in the world.

The entire shtick is equal parts objectively annoying (to the other team and his critics) and artistically hilarious. It was no surprise to see the series take a turn for the petty Thursday night in Milwaukee. Mallory Edens, the daughter of Bucks’ owner Wes Edens, was seated courtside next to Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers wearing a Pusha T t-shirt. The nod to the Virginia MC was a flashback to a year ago when Drake found himself behind the eight ball for the first time in his career with a heated and highly personal beef with Pusha that involved Drake’s son, a rumored adidas deal gone awry and a picture of Drake in blackface. Eden’s wardrobe was a solid response — the franchise’s best rebuttal so far — that was diluted by the Bucks’ 105-99 defeat, which put them one loss away from elimination.

Wearing a Pusha T t-shirt, Mallory Edens attends Game Five of the Eastern Conference Finals of the 2019 NBA Playoffs against the Milwaukee Bucks and Toronto Raptors on May 23, 2019 at the Fiserv Forum Center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Photo by Nathaniel S. Butler/NBAE via Getty Images

“There’s certainly no place for fans — or whatever Drake is for the Raptors — on the court,” Bucks head coach Mike Budenholzer said on a Wednesday conference call. “There’s boundaries and lines for a reason.”

Antetokounmpo’s former European agent carried the same energy. “Imagine a gig & an athlete on VIP seats, right next to the band, stands upon the stage just to show off during the entire game, knowing cameras are on him, occasionally even massaging the singer,” Georgios Dimitropoulos, a senior executive at Octagon, said in a since-deleted tweet. “Security & him both allow it. Never seen anything as disrespectful as this before …”

Drake responded via Instagram through a series of emojis and a live broadcast that showed him liking a comment in support of his actions. And following Toronto’s Game 5 victory, Drake took to his Instagram Stories to poke fun at Budenholzer and the younger Edens, telling the latter, “All is far in war and war and trust me I’ll still get you tickets to OVO Fest.” Anyone familiar with Drake and how he moves understands this is all part of the blueprint. Just as he remained strategically silent about Kanye West’s demands that he dispel rumors of an affair with Kim Kardashian last year, Drake didn’t directly address Budenholzer’s or Dimitropoulos’ comments, allowing the pendulum of media momentum to stay in his court. For now, at least.

Canadian rap artist Drake (R, rear) yells at Milwaukee Bucks forward Giannis Antetokounmpo (L, front) after the NBA Eastern Conference Finals Game 3 basketball game between the Toronto Raptors and Milwaukee Bucks at Scotiabank Arena in Toronto, Canada, 19 May 2019.

EPA/WARREN TODA SHUTTERSTOCK OUT

There are three undeniably important days in the Raptors’ 24 seasons. The first was June 24, 1998, when the team traded No. 4 pick Antawn Jamison to the Golden State Warriors in exchange for the fifth pick, Vince Carter. The second came 20 years later when the Raptors traded Toronto favorite DeMar DeRozan for Kawhi Leonard on July 18, 2018. And the third was Sept. 30, 2013, when the Raptors named hometown kid turned superstar rapper Aubrey Drake Graham as their global ambassador. If it sounds ridiculously foolish, it’s only trumped by how ridiculously accurate the job title has since become.

Despite a season of adverse player-fan interactions, many of which had racial undertones, Drake’s courtside antics do little to affect the league or the Raptors negatively. He didn’t violate any sort of NBA policy for his interaction with Nurse. And judging by its past actions, the league isn’t giving Drake a hometown pass.

In 2014, the Raptors were fined $25,000 after Drake made what the league considered a public recruiting pitch to Kevin Durant, who attended his OVO Festival in Toronto. Last year, both the NBA and the Raptors warned Drake about his behavior after a verbal confrontation with then-Cleveland Cavaliers center Kendrick Perkins.

Drake hugs Toronto Raptors head coach Nick Nurse during Game 3 of the Eastern Conference finals on May 19 in Toronto.

Photo by Vaughn Ridley/Getty Images

Drake vs. the Bucks is yet another twist in Drake’s interest in sports. The games and the athletes who play them are frequent muses in his music. And being recognized in a Drake song is pop culture gold. “I made it, I made it,” said Stephen Curry, quoting Draymond Green’s excitement over being name-dropped in Drake’s “Summer Sixteen.” “ ‘First All-Star Game and I got into a Drake song.’ ”

The flip side is that the internet will never let Drake live down his air ball — while in the layup line! — during Kentucky’s 2014 Big Blue Madness. Then there’s the Drake curse, which has allegedly affected the likes of Serena Williams, Conor McGregor, the Alabama Crimson Tide, the aforementioned Kentucky and others. Some New York Giants fans blamed him in part for wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr.’s mercurial moods. As coincidence collided with fate, Drake sat courtside at Game 5 of the 2016 NBA Finals when Kyrie Irving and LeBron James each went for 41 points — and kick-started the greatest comeback in NBA Finals history. But the hex was so deep even Drake believed in the energy as he wore Philadelphia 76ers shorts during Toronto’s Game 7 instant-classic victory earlier this month.

Like Lee, Drake is no stranger to the rush of vitriol against him. He’s also no stranger to inserting himself on to the NBA’s biggest stages. This marks the fourth consecutive postseason where Drake has become a subplot — others might say “antagonist” — during the playoffs. While taunting both Irving and James via, yes, Instagram in 2016, Drake watched his Raptors fall in six games — with James giving Drake an earful in the process. A year later, James not only again led the Cavaliers to victory over the Raptors in the playoffs, he offered to buy Drake margaritas after the game to soften the sting. In 2018, the tide temporarily shifted in Drake’s favor as he trolled John Wall and Kelly Oubre Jr. during Toronto’s first-round series victory over the Washington Wizards. This year, he taunted 76ers superstar center Joel Embiid, mimicking his airplane gesture in this year’s Eastern Conference semifinals.

Drake attends Game 5 of the Eastern Conference semifinals between the Raptors and Philadelphia 76ers on May 7 in Toronto.

Photo by Ron Turenne/NBAE via Getty Images

All of the taunts, gestures and boisterous sideline dances could come back to haunt Drake should the Raptors fail to win either Game 6 or 7. And a new crop of Drake memes and GIFs will populate the internet. But understanding that Drake isn’t just a famous fanatic is part of the calculus in understanding why he acts the way he does. For starters, Drake’s not just a fan. “Been flowin’ stupid since Vince Carter was on some through the legs, arm in the hoop s—,” he reflected on “Weston Road Flows.” “I got a club in the Raptors arena,” he barked on his “30 for 30 Freestyle,” “Championship celebrations during regular seasons. F— all that rap-to-pay-your-bill s—,” he waxed on the Grammy-nominated “0 to 100/The Catch Up,” “I’m on some Raptors pay my bill s—.” This is a business investment.

His $7,000-per-year, invitation-only Sher Club (named after his maternal grandparents) sits inside Scotiabank Arena. Both Drake and the Raptors are donating millions of dollars to modernize local basketball courts and to Canada Basketball. Part of his “I’m Upset” video, which has nearly 100 million YouTube views, was filmed at center court of Scotiabank. Canada’s The Sports Network said Drake “is one of several factors responsible for legitimizing the organization in the eyes of the league’s primary demographic and many of its players.” Of those players, DeRozan said it was Drake who played the role of amateur therapist and helped him through the shock of being traded. “Just to hear the words that come from him being the person that he is in this world, especially in Toronto,” DeRozan said. And then there’s his overall economic impact on the city. A 2018 Vice News Tonight report concluded Drake is worth $440 million annually to Toronto’s economy, 5% of the city’s $8.8 billion tourism industry, because “he’s helped to rebrand the city. He’s kind of made himself the same as Toronto.”

None of this excuses anything Drake does from his courtside seat. But it gives some insight as to why. He acts the way he does because he’s fully aware of the weight his name holds in the city. He’s involved with the Raptors’ growth both financially and culturally. And he’s now part of the theater that the Eastern Conference finals have become because it’s no longer just about basketball. For some, there’s genuine joy in seeing Drake double down on his antics. For others, there’s pure disdain as they impatiently await his emotional downfall. But everyone feels some type of way. That’s a cultural moment. Drake’s got the sports world in their feelings.

Natasha Hastings runs down the obstacles of being a pregnant Olympic hopeful 400-meter relay medalist hopes to go to Tokyo after she has her first child

As soon as Natasha Hastings, 32, learned she was pregnant, she began to wonder.

She pondered all the fraught physiological and cultural questions that undergird the modern motherhood industrial complex: How would her body change? Would her fiancé share equally in the work of round-the-clock baby care? What happens when she returns to her career — and would she even have a career to return to?

But she also had some custom asks: Would she ever run a quarter-mile in 52 seconds or less, again, and if so, how soon? What support would it take for her to make it to the Olympics one last time? And, crucially, would sponsors stick by her as she tries to make the trip?

Early this month, Hastings, a gold medalist in the 4×400-meter relay at the 2008 and 2016 Olympics, revealed on Instagram that she was 5½ months pregnant. She also announced her intention to return to world-class competition, saying, “I’m going to go to Tokyo! Win a couple more medals!”

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Questions about balancing pregnancy and world-class athletics aren’t new. At the 1960 Rome Games, sprinter Wilma Rudolph won three gold medals 16 months after having a baby, although few knew it. But Hastings is part of a new visibility and debate about the physical capabilities of female athletes after motherhood, and what systems and protection — health, economic, child care — they need around them. They are conversations we’ve rarely had, around questions we’ve hardly asked.

Hastings has been running professionally for 12 years. But now, as she pursues her dream of sport and family, she’s about to cover new ground.


When she found out that she and her fiancé, former Pittsburgh Steelers cornerback William Gay, were expecting, Hastings remembers thinking, My God, what’s happening? She saw the excitement in his face, and he saw the dismay in hers. Yes, she wanted a baby, eventually. But she was just back from a knee injury, training for her outdoor season and hoping to compete in this year’s World Championships. They were planning to marry next year and, fingers crossed, she would qualify for the Olympics. For someone who’d been in communion with her body since she began running competitively at 10, the timing felt all wrong.

Natasha Hastings of the United States competes in the women’s 4×400-meter relay heats during Day 9 of the 16th IAAF World Athletics Championships London 2017 at the London Stadium.

Patrick Smith/Getty Images

“Track is my life, you know,” Hastings said. “My job relies on my physical abilities.” Everything she’s planned for the next phase of her life — building her 400M Diva cosmetic and beauty line, and her Natasha Hastings Foundation to advocate for women and girls in sports — was predicated on exiting track on her own terms. “I’m not the first woman who has thought about family versus career,” Hastings said. “But I don’t know any man who has to make that choice, you know?”

Hastings was worried her family might be disappointed in the timing. And she was especially worried about her sponsors, particularly Under Armour, which she’s been with since 2012.

“I took a while to share with my sponsors for fear of, just, I don’t know what this looks like, I don’t know how they’re going to take this.” She didn’t know “if I’d have a job at all. Or I shouldn’t say a job, but financial support to continue to train and go after the Olympics.”

While Under Armour continued to sponsor Hastings, her fears were understandable.

Middle-distance runner Alysia Montaño, a six-time USA Outdoor champion, competed in the 800-meter race at the 2014 U.S. Track and Field Championships while eight months pregnant. In a Mother’s Day editorial in The New York Times, Montaño wrote that female athletes are often forced into physically dangerous choices because companies such as Nike, which sponsored her, can suspend their contracts and health insurance when they get pregnant.

“I’m now entering a new world of mommyhood, and unfortunately our worst critics are other moms.” — Natasha Hastings

Athletes are always vulnerable to risk and injury that is often heightened during pregnancy. And they largely don’t get maternity leave. Some sports have responded to the challenges.

When Orlando Pride star Sydney Leroux posted pictures of her training while five months pregnant in March, her Twitter mentions included people worried about the health of her baby. But teammates and other female athletes rushed to offer their support.

Two members of the U.S. World Cup soccer team in 1999 had children. The 2015 U.S. World Cup team had three mothers, and a culture of inclusion has taken root in the sport, including paid maternity leave. Moms have been a part of the WNBA for more than 20 years and have a portion of their salaries and medical expenses covered through the league’s collective bargaining agreement.

A bobblehead of Phoenix Mercury All-Star DeWanna Bonner features her holding her twin baby girls.

But non-team sports often seem to think female athletes don’t, or at least shouldn’t, get pregnant at all.

The message from the culture has been that female athletes should retire to have children, said Amira Rose Davis, an assistant professor of history and gender studies at Penn State University.

“So we haven’t had a lot of cases that have been able to be visible role models, modeling what it looks like to be working moms within sports,” she said. Her own earliest memory of an athlete mother was fictional: Sanaa Lathan’s character in the 2000 movie Love & Basketball. But she calls this new era of visibility a chance to engage in granular conversations about child care, what breastfeeding looks like when you’re also pushing your body athletically and how to bring abdominal muscles and hips back to world-class form.

Davis cites Serena Williams, who almost died after giving birth to her daughter, Alexis Olympia Ohanian Jr., via emergency cesarean section in 2017. Her story highlighted the WTA’s lack of maternity leave policies. And her well-documented struggles, both emotional and physical, to return to competition opened a new front in motherhood conversations worldwide.

From left to right: U.S. women’s 4×400-meter relay team members Courtney Okolo, Natasha Hastings, Phyllis Francis and Allyson Felix celebrate their gold medals on the podium during athletics competitions at the Summer Olympics inside Olympic Stadium in Rio de Janeiro on Aug. 20, 2016.

AP Photo/Jae C. Hong

In track, Hastings is familiar with the history of sprinter Marion Jones, who failed to qualify for the 2004 Olympics after giving birth the year before. (She was also banned from the sport for two years and had her Olympic medals stripped after charges of doping.)

Sprinter Allyson Felix, whose six Olympic gold medals include the 2016 4×400-meter relay on a team that included Hastings, struggled with complications during her pregnancy last year and had to have an emergency C-section. Her daughter was hospitalized for a month, Felix testified at a recent congressional hearing on the crisis in maternal mortality. The federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that black and American Indian/Alaska Native women are three times as likely to die from pregnancy-related causes as white women.

Like Hastings, Felix is also hoping to compete in Tokyo.

Along with Under Armour, Hastings’ sponsors — which include the New York Athletic Club, as well as cosmetic and feminine care products companies — congratulated her on her pregnancy and continued their sponsorship.

Hastings feels “blessed. … If there’s anything that can speak for me, it’s that I have been a resilient person and athlete and my back has been against the wall several times.” That resilience helped her get past her failure to make the 2012 Olympic team. It helped her overcome a hamstring pull before the 2016 Olympic trials. She’s relying on it now, including for all the difficult conversations about pregnancy that she wasn’t prepared for.


In deciding on child care post-baby, Hastings says she and her fiancé have had some pointed exchanges. Hastings is thinking about how she will balance the needs of an infant with her own need for speed. She can’t run if she doesn’t sleep. And in discussing her options with other women, including hiring a nanny, she’s found these mommy conversations can get thorny quick.

“I’m now entering a new world of mommyhood, and unfortunately our worst critics are other moms,” said Hastings. She’s finding her instinct to rely on their wisdom difficult to square with her own world-class ambitions. “I mean this with respect and honor, and I know that they’re coming from a good place and I know that I’m also, I am coming from a place of the unknown, right? But then there’s also this space of what I do that is unknown for them.” So there’s a disconnect “even in the conversation of a nanny, you know? It’s almost like, well, you’re less of a mom for having a nanny.”

She’s running toward her future, not just for the girls who come next but also for women right now who are watching her for clues about their own postpartum possibilities.

She’s always had to curate the people around her and the voices she allows in her space. “I’m in a small population of the world that thinks that what I go out and do every day is possible. I’ve lived up to a standard that to most is impossible without having a child in there, right?” Her career has always been hard. “I’m no fool to what I’m going up against,” she said. “I’m going up against probably the hardest challenge I’ve ever had to face in this sport.” But if she dwells on that, her race is already lost.

Hastings is trying to keep her second-most important athletic instrument — her spirit, her willpower, her determination to completely dust the women running next to her — honed and ready.

As to her body, she’s trusting her longtime coach to help with that. It’s been an adjustment for him as well.


Darryl Woodson of Training Ground Elite in Round Rock, Texas, has been working with Hastings for more than seven years. He’s never coached a pregnant athlete before, so this is new space for him as well.

When Hastings told him she wanted to get back to the Olympics, Woodson said, she was focused on whether things would change between them — if he would start to take her less seriously as an athlete.

He became disciplined about keeping their same routines early on.

Elite coaching is physical, he said, but it is also about keeping athletes in their right mind. “There’s a psychological situation for a person where they’re always feeling like, uh-oh, you’re giving up on me,” Woodson said. When athletes are injured, or have some other physical limitation, “if you make them more aware of it then it starts to bother them, and if you treat them normally then they get through it a lot better.”

Natasha Hastings celebrates winning the gold medal in the women’s 4×400-meter relay final at the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro on Aug. 20, 2016.

AP Photo/Martin Meissner

As her pregnancy progressed, they made adjustments for her schedule and how Hastings was feeling. He takes cues from her, but he said her dedication to the work hasn’t wavered.

“I’m not a prenatal coach,” he said. She’s in consultation with her doctors, who say her body will let her know how much she can handle. “And that’s when we stop. Obviously, I have altered some of her workouts” to make sure they’re not overly demanding.

Typically, she’d be in the outdoor season now. She’d be doing flat-out runs over 400 meters to build strength and endurance and doing other anaerobic work. At six months pregnant, she’s not doing that, or weight training, running stairs or jumping hurdles.

She’s continuing to do 150-meter sprints. Normally, she would run it at about 16 or 17 seconds. She’s four or five seconds slower now, and she can get frustrated that she’s not hitting her pre-pregnancy marks.

“That’s where the pick-me-up comes from me, where it’s like, ‘Let’s look at the circumstances,’ ” Woodson said. “The numbers matter nothing at all if we’re not stopping training so that your body doesn’t need to get reintroduced to this next time.”

She’s actually working harder because she’s carrying more. Woodson is sensitive about using words such as weight. If she keeps her body trained, her times will rebound when she’s no longer pregnant.

“My job is to modify the program and get the same results or better and not put her under the same psychological stress,” Woodson said. His job is to listen and give her the best shot at what she says she wants. The baby is due in July, and he’s hoping she returns as soon as September but no later than October.

“We don’t know what we can and will be able to do. We just know psychologically, emotionally and spiritually what we want to do,” Woodson said. “We’ll keep pushing the same way as we always have been.”


On the track and off, Hastings wants to be a role model. Davis said it matters that she’s a black woman doing this work. This is not only because of the recent spotlight on black maternal health but also because “the tropes about black women’s femininity and sexuality within athletics have been so tied to ideas of their bodies.” Pregnancy pushes back at larger stereotypes about what is feminine, and what sport does to femininity.

“I didn’t get to this level by thinking it was impossible,” Hastings said. “I had to know and believe that it was possible, and that came with having a plan, putting the plan in place, being able to adjust here and there when you have to.” And that’s what she’s still doing.

She’s running toward her future, not just for the girls who come next but also for women right now who are watching her for clues about their own postpartum possibilities. She’s doing it for her athletic dreams of speed and glory. For her entrepreneurial dreams of reward and influence. For her dreams of black family and baby love. She focuses on that as she circles the track, chasing the person she’s always striving to be.

Unapologetic: The Black Female Athlete

Hosted by professional softball player and Golden Glove recipient A.J. Andrews, accomplished athletes share candid conversations on the challenges and joy of being black female athletes at the top of their game.

The program features Laila Ali, Michelle Carter, Misty Copeland, Allyson Felix, Simone Manuel, Ibtihaj Muhammad, Nneka Ogwumike and A’ja Wilson and focuses on marketing of the black female athlete, body image and hair, pay equality and representation in sports.

Are the Warriors turning LeBron James into Wilt Chamberlain — big stat lines and heartbreaks? No team in James’ career has tested the limits of his genius like the opponent he’s down 0-2 to right now

It came up Sunday night, while I was watching Game 2 at a bar with two friends. It was right after Stephen Curry’s most video-game-like 3-pointer, the fourth-quarter heave over Kevin Love from roughly 4 feet behind the 3-point line as the shot clock expired.

“Watching LeBron right now …” said my friend Jason, 31, shaking his head at Curry’s exploits, “I wonder if this is what it felt like watching Wilt Chamberlain play the Celtics back in the ‘60s.” Jason works in information technology. “Jerry West, too,” said Marcus. He’s 34 and works in higher education in Louisiana. “They both ran up against Bill Russell, Sam Jones, Red Auerbach and all those guys.” There is a case to be made: LeBron James’ current four-year war with Golden State may be the NBA’s modern-day equivalent.

Chamberlain is the game’s original statistical anomaly, the prophyte of modern-day bulls-in-china-shops like Shaquille O’Neal and James. There’s his 100-point game in March 1962. That same season he averaged a whopping 48.5 minutes per game while putting up 50 points and 25 rebounds a night. Chamberlain, a Philadelphia native, never averaged less than 18 rebounds per game in any season of his career, and he retired averaging 30 points and 23 rebounds per game. He was the game’s all-time leading scorer until he was surpassed by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in 1984; Karl Malone, Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan also eventually overtook him. Both Dirk Nowitzki and James will pass him early next season.

Chamberlain and Bill Russell met during Russell’s rookie season and Chamberlain’s freshman year at the University of Kansas in 1956-57. They became basketball’s original titan-on-titan rivalry. Chamberlain was the unstoppable force, which Russell has said forced him to think of different defensive schemes each time they competed. Russell and the Celtics were the immovable object in Chamberlain’s path toward NBA immortality.

“We talked about it one time,” Russell said of the lone conversation he had with Chamberlain about the difference in their careers. “[Wilt] said that [Russell having better teammates] was not true. Simply because his teammates had to feed him and I fed my teammates.”

LeBron’s virtuoso 51-8-8 performance that ended in a Game 1 loss felt very Wilt-esque.

From 1959-69, Russell and Chamberlain played against each other in 94 regular-season games. Neither was a particularly great free throw shooter, with Russell’s 54.2 percent nudging out Chamberlain’s 49.3 percent. Chamberlain had the edge in rebounding over Russell, who is widely considered the greatest defensive big man to ever live, 28.2 to 22.9. And Chamberlain more than doubled Russell in points per game, 29.9 to 14.2.

Chamberlain’s teams, however? They won only 37 of the 94 matchups, with the win-loss ratio slightly tighter in the playoffs. Chamberlain, again, held the advantage in points, rebounds and field goal percentage. But it was again Russell who walked away victorious in 29 of those 49 postseason matchups. A final tally: Russell’s Celtics defeated Chamberlain’s Warriors, 76ers and Lakers in 86 of 143 matchups (60 percent). Chamberlain and Russell played each other in eight different playoff series. Russell won seven of those eight series.

This is why watching James this postseason has been particularly astounding. In the first round vs. Indiana, the second round vs. Toronto and the Eastern Conference finals vs. Boston, James’ opponents had the better team. Cleveland just had the best player.

But no team in James’ first-ballot Hall of Fame career has tested the limits of his genius quite like the opponent he’s down 0-2 to right now. His virtuoso 51-8-8 performance that ended in a Game 1 loss felt very Wilt-esque. When Chamberlain snagged a still-record 55 rebounds in November 1960, he did so against Russell and the Celtics. But Wilt did so in a loss.

Although LeBron and the Golden State Warriors haven’t been attached at the hip his entire career in the way Chamberlain was to Russell and the Celtics, the history is peppered with special moments. In December 2012, the Warriors (with a then-rookie Draymond Green) shocked the defending champion Miami Heat at home. A month later, LeBron returned the favor in Oakland, becoming the youngest player to score 20,000 career points in the process.

A year later in January 2014, Steph Curry’s 36 points again led to another South Beach loss for the defending champion Heat. And right before heading into that year’s All-Star break, LeBron outdueled Steph (29 points and seven assists) with his own near triple-double of 36 points, 13 rebounds, 9 assists and the game-winning 3 in Oakland. It ranks as the first classic duel between the two multiple MVPs — though the Bay Area monster hadn’t yet graduated into its current mutation. After that game, LeBron, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh and Curry had an always fascinating battle of “black men attempting to out-compliment the other.”

The past four Junes speak for themselves. The Cavs and Warriors are the only teams to ever play each other for the championship four consecutive times in any major American sport. Golden State has won two of three, invited former MVP Kevin Durant into the fold and, if they take care of business this week, could be returning to Oakland this weekend with their third title in four years — and Curry’s first career Finals MVP award.

The Cavaliers return to Cleveland in a series that should be tied. And beating Golden State four out of the next five games is a pipe dream. It’s James, the best player (like Wilt), against the unquestioned best team in the league for almost the last half decade (like Russell and the Celtics). Difficult takes a day and impossible takes a week. James, in most cases, makes impossible look like a random Tuesday. But the weight of that responsibility became crystal clear in one clip — when LeBron found out the Cavs still had timeouts left at the end of regulation in Game 1.

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Love or loathe LeBron, the exasperation was uncomfortable to watch. He, more than anyone around the league, understands the value of getting any added advantage on the Warriors. They’re a python, smothering teams with ball movement, quick hands on defense and a steady stream of 3s. Every now and then, though, the Warriors will slip up, allowing a team to escape the constriction of their reptilian play. James knew this was the game. The entire world knew it too.

And Cleveland blew it with blunders both beyond their control and well within it. It’s how Chamberlain felt against the Celtics. Four Chamberlain vs. Russell series went to Game 7. Russell and Boston won all four — by a total of nine points. Russell is a perfect 10-0 in Game 7s in his iconic career.

Record-breaking stats mean nothing in the heat of the moment. No player has ever won a title without a team effort.

Role players traditionally play better at home. But if Cleveland is to at least make it a series, LeBron knows just what Russell and Chamberlain knew — that record-breaking stats mean nothing in the heat of the moment. And that no player has ever won a title without a team effort.

On Wednesday night, Cleveland will play like its season hangs in the balance — because it does. And Golden State will enter Quicken Loans Arena knowing it can inflict a body blow that would, effectively, leave LeBron down for the count. So either the Cavaliers make adjustments to their rotations and defensive schemes and find a better clip from 3-point range or the Warriors make it back to the Bay Area, trophy in tow, without having to cancel Saturday brunch plans.

Everyone thinks Meghan Markle is marrying up, but it’s really Prince Harry If the monarchy is to remain relevant, it’s going to need Duchess Meg

The Windsors are getting a lovely in-law in a matter of days. They’d be wise not to run her off.

Conventional thinking about Meghan Markle and Prince Harry, who will marry on Saturday at Windsor Castle, maintains that Markle is experiencing the come-up of a lifetime. After all, the American is marrying into the world’s most recognizable royal family, becoming a duchess (officially) and becoming a princess, if not officially then at least in people’s hearts. The royal family is worth tens of billions of dollars — imperialist pillaging has its benefits — and they live in castles older than Markle’s country of origin. Before she became engaged to Harry, Meghan was an actress on a basic cable show and ran a lifestyle website called The Tig. But really, as much as this marriage might be considered one of upward mobility for Markle, especially by British newspapers such as the Daily Mail, it’s just as much of one for Harry and the rest of his family of German toffs.

Allow me to explain: Markle, 36, was brought up in the hippie-dippie Southern California traditions of her yoga instructor mother, Doria Ragland, and educated at Northwestern University. She has a soul, one that tells her to hug people when protocol dictates she shake hands. (No wonder the queen’s corgis took to her so quickly.) She is a feminist who, from the age of 12, understood that washing dishes should not be the sole purview of women. Markle’s website was the anti-Goop. It offered useful, fun information instead of instructing women to subject their hoo-has to invasion from steam, jade eggs and tampons infused with unicorn glitter. Before she had to shut it down because everyone who becomes a Mountbatten-Windsor commits to communicating with the outside world solely in official royal capacities, Markle trafficked in useful travel guides, reading lists and appealing recipes, such as ginger-berry crumble and chocolate petit gateaux.

There will be far more black people in attendance at this royal wedding than any of the previous ones, and in high-profile roles as well.

Life as a royal, on the other hand, is like the traditional cake that’s served at so many official weddings, including the nuptials of Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip: a thick layer of pristine white marzipan obscuring an interior of fruitcake, everyone’s least favorite baked good. The royals would do well to allow Markle to steer them away from their affinities for bland food (apparently the queen not only hates garlic but has banned it from Buckingham Palace entirely), foxhunting and freakish millinery. Let’s hope they also resist the urge to pull her into their constant familial backbiting. (It’s worth noting that Meghan got her way when it came to her own wedding cake, which will be lemon and elderflower with buttercream frosting.)

There’s a question of how much Markle can change Britain’s overboiled royal family, with its insistence on making women adopt nylons and eschew colored nail polish in the name of duty, honor and country.

You’ve heard the basics: She’s biracial, bringing some color to the family, the likes of which it hasn’t seen since Queen Charlotte wed George III in 1761. She’s divorced, and she’s certainly not a virgin, much like Wallis Simpson, the wife of Edward VIII.

Unlike Edward, Harry, 33, doesn’t have to abdicate his right to the throne for the sake of love. He’s wedding Meggles with the blessing of his grandmother, the queen. And the couple does appear to be doing things differently from the ways they’ve always been done. Certainly there will be far more black people in attendance at this royal wedding than any of the previous ones, and in high-profile roles as well. A black American bishop, the Most Reverend Michael Bruce Curry, will give the address at their wedding. Sheku Kanneh-Mason, a 19-year-old cellist from Nottingham, will play at the ceremony. Serena Williams is said to be a guest.

There are all sorts of things about Meghan and Harry that would be unremarkable if he were from a different family. Alas, Meghan’s embrace of trousers as formal wear and the fact that she and Harry actually show affection for one another in public are practically revolutionary in the context of royal history. And given Buckingham Palace’s strict apolitical stance, one that prevented Kate Middleton from wearing black to the British Academy Television Awards in solidarity with the Time’s Up movement, Harry and Meghan’s attendance at the memorial service earlier this year for the victim of a racially motivated hate crime seems significant.

But how much? These changes, which look massive in the fun house reflection of the royal mirror, are innocuous and unremarkable in the glint of the real world. They provide hooks the public can readily grasp as an indication that Britain’s royal family is finally inching into the 21st century, mostly because Elizabeth dotes on her grandson. It helps that he’s the spare and not the heir. But are these symbolic public flourishes simply another thick layer of marzipan obscuring the fruitcake of what life as a royal will actually be like for Princess Meg?

The crown is a metonym for Britishness as a whole, and maybe this embrace of all things multicultural signals an expansion of what it means to be British. Or perhaps not. The country of Harry and Meghan is also the country of Brexit and Nigel Farage. And according to a new poll from HuffPost UK, Markle is about as popular as her dour-faced father-in-law-to-be, Prince Charles.

Are Harry and Meghan a sign of the royal family finally coming to grips with the ugly results of centuries of imperialism? Or are they exceptions in a country that’s more in line with Princess Michael of Kent, who reportedly owns two black sheep that she named Venus and Serena?

Let’s hope it’s the former. Meanwhile, a word to Markle’s future in-laws: Fall on your knees and thank your lucky stars that she is willing to add some diversity to your gene pool. The monarchy is well past its sell-by date, and if it’s to remain remotely relevant, you’re going to need her far more than she needs you.