When you are seven years old and you are watching the French Open, and you don't know better, you simply support Steffi Graf. It's 1992, she is up against Monica Seles and she is about to lose. My grandmother is cheering for Seles. This is less, I suspect, out of some studied appreciation of her style, and more because "someone else should get a chance, I say". As if tennis is not a ruthless meritocracy but a feel-good yoga retreat. My sister and
