Cheek By Jowl and Painfully Partisan, Families Share the Tension

There were hundreds of empty seats around Centre Court at 1pm yesterday, as lunch proved a bigger attraction for the corporate crowd than the chance to watch Venus Williams, the women's singles champion, take on the last Briton in the draw, Anne Keothavong. But even if others may feel that they can take it or leave it, there is a small corner of Wimbledon that will be forever ardent.

In the players' box, seated and ready at 12.45, were the Keothavong family from Hackney and the Williams family from Compton, California, clans from opposite ends of the world, thrust together by tennis. Most major tournaments are careful to ensure that the players' entourages enjoy a few degrees of separation during a match - but not Wimbledon. Here, whereas the players have a net and several yards of grass to separate them, their family and friends are forced to get up close and personal.

It must be a strange and moving experience to watch your daughter appear on Center for the first time, one that could tear the heart between bursting pride and the cold grip of terror; stranger still to do so while sitting cheek by jowl with the people in all of Wimbledon who most want to see her blown away.

And the Williams family are hardly known for keeping their feelings to themselves. Richard Williams, Venus' father, famously clambered down from the box to the court when she won her first Wimbledon title, shouting "straight outta Compton" as he did so. Even now, after so many titles, he remains his daughters' most passionate fan.

Yesterday, though, he deferred to Oracene, his former wife, who was in the front row of the players' box while Richard sat a few feet away on the other side of a flight of steps. Behind Oracene, Somsak Keothavong was pressed right into the far corner of the box, next to his wife, Vathana. Although there was frequent chatter and movement within the rows, cross-party discussions were limited to say the least.

Cutaways to the players' box are a frequent - indeed almost incessant - part of the BBC's Wimbledon coverage but you only ever see the occupants in the moment of release, in triumph or disappointment, with the point already won or lost. Focus on the box while a big point is in progress, though, and the tension is written deeply across every face and in every jerking twist of the neck. It matters on the court and it matters just as much here. Over the course of a close match there may be as much nervous energy expended in these 13 seats as in all the thousands of others put together.

For the first few minutes yesterday, though, it looked as though the outcome would be brutal and embarrassing. Keothavong lost the first two games in the space of four minutes, but as she got back to 2-2 and started to believe in herself, so did everyone else.

As the first set continued, the Williams family looked - and must have felt - ever more like an enclave of Manchester United fans sitting on the Kop. Good winners by Williams were acknowledged with applause, even on the back row of the players' box. When Keothavong made a big shot, though, the Williams row sat in silence as, all around them, the Center Court exploded with delight.

Richard Williams, meanwhile, seemed to have gone awol, leaving a companion behind to lead the support. "Yeah, go Venus, whoo-hoo," she shouted after one unforced error by Keothavong. The Briton's contingent kept admirably cool as she did so, though there did seem to be some stifled smiles a few minutes later when Keothavong thumped a volley straight at her opponent's head.

It was one of her last moments of aggression, as the second set slipped away in the face of Williams' extraordinary power. And before the players had even left the court the front row of the players' box had emptied, with scarcely a word exchanged. Only Keothavong's family and friends remained, to applaud her as she took her leave.

One member of the Williams family was still there, though. As Center Court emptied, Richard Williams, who had returned to his seat for the final few games, scrupulously worked his way along the box, shaking every hand, before hugging Somsak Keothavong with genuine warmth.

It was the embrace of someone who has been there many times before - someone who knows what a lonely, helpless place the players' box can be.