faced incredible challenges, like only being allowed to play in African American tennis tournaments while repeatedly beating girls 3, 4 and 5 years her senior and size. When finally allowed the opportunity to play in white tournaments she constantly faced padded draws (meaning she would have to play the best players in early rounds); an attempt by tournament officials to eliminate her early. However, stacking the deck never worked against fiery little Lorraine. Although tiny framed, her lightening fast feet meant she could chase down every ball. With a killer drop shot and net play shaped by those years of hitting volleys against the side of her house, she still won, knocking out the better players early. After that experience she stopped looking at the draws.
Later, she would be denied acceptance to compete in the national tournaments because of her race. However, after much protest and letters written by her coaches, Lorraine was allowed to play, subsequently winning the national title. She eventually played at Forest Hills in New York, which is now known as the U.S Open, but lost in the first round.
Now in Florida, widowed and a retired nurse, she hung up her racquet only in the last few years, remaining entrenched in the passion and love for a sport that shaped her youth. Never call to speak to Lorraine during one of the major tournaments, especially if her beloved Williams sisters are playing. If so, you could be met with brevity, annoyance or chastisement, if she even answers. She relishes in the excitement of watching Venus and Serena, sisters in maiden name and race, continuing a legacy of history making, while standing in the footprints of this little known tennis matriarch.
Heroes are seen as those who inspire us by their example. We stand in awe of their
accomplishments, wanting to connect to
them with the hope of somehow being like them. Fortunately I don’t have to look far for such inspiration. I just happen to hold champion DNA from my personal hero, my mother, Lorraine Bryant (Williams).