The Re-birth of Venus Thursday, 30 June, 2005 You knew there was going to be trouble when the crowd turned up with ear plugs. The semi-final collision of Venus Williams, champion of 2000 and 2001 and grunter par excellence; and Maria Sharapova, the champion of 2004 and a shrieker, groaner and screamer of the first rank, was always going to be a noisy affair. It had been a difficult day all round. The rain moved in overnight, refused to go away and only let up for a couple of hours towards later afternoon. As everyone kicked their heels in the damp, the heavens finally relented around teatime allowing the clash to begin. Not that the clouds went away. They lurked ominously above, demanding that whatever the champions, past and present, did, they did quickly. But celebrity cannot be hurried. As the natives became increasingly restless, the protagonists stayed firmly in the locker room. The crowd clapped, they whistled until finally, at 5.29pm, a heavily swathed Sharapova strode on to Centre Court. Wearing sweat pants or, rather fashionably flared garments to cover the lower limbs (the much photographed Miss S would never wear anything as common as sweat pants), and a long sleeved top, she slowly unpeeled to wolf whistles and cheers. "Marry me Maria!" came a cry from an overexcited voice in the stands. Well, boys will be boys. At 5.31pm the first ball was struck in the warm-up and Sharapova was still secure in her position as Wimbledon champion. But it was not to last. She may have placed her chair to sit facing the Royal Box (the queen of Wimbledon would do, wouldn't she) but she came second in the warm-up and no better in the match. Williams, adopting her suburban housewife look with a huge sun visor (she, apparently, had not been reading the weather updates), windcheater and ponytail, meant business. For all that she faced two break points in the opening game, she was still pushing Sharapova around, sending her scampering from corner to corner and after just two minutes of this effort, the Sharapova shriek made its first appearance. It was met by the Williams grunt, a throaty roar of aggression that can terrify the best. But not Sharapova. Nothing frightens Maria. She may be beaten but she will concede defeat. Williams was bigger (by one inch), older (by seven years) and stronger (by 30lbs of muscle) but Sharapova would not lie down. Playing some shots left-handed in a desperate attempt to get a racquet string on another Williams thunderbolt, she tried everything in her power to keep her hands on the trophy. For the last four years Williams has been upstaged first by her sister and then by a host of younger women who have mopped up the titles that matter. She has not won a Grand Slam title since the US Open in 2001. She got to plenty of finals, mind you, but every time she got there, she was walloped by her kid sister. Five times it happened. But now Serena is gone and for Venus it means that the title is there for the taking. She has worked long and hard in the gym and on the practice courts - she might want to have a word with Serena about the benefits of hard graft - and slowly but surely this year, she has begun to look like the champion of old. This is where it all started for Williams and this is the place she loves the best. The grass, for all the criticisms that it is slower than in days of yore, still adds sting and pep to her already ferocious shots. And with the wingspan of a small jetliner, she is impossible to pass at the net. She has her sights set on the title and whoever her opponent is on Saturday, they have been marked down for no more than a supporting role. And at least it will be a good deal quieter than today. Written by Alix Ramsay --

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