The Baseline

Tonight's story is about a girl who grew up on cracked public tennis courts in Compton, California, USA with weeds growing through the concrete — and a father who wrote a 78-page plan for her future before she was even old enough to read it. Through Serena Williams's journey from those neighborhood courts to 23 Grand Slam titles and more than 300 weeks ranked number one in the world, families discover that your difference is your edge, wrapped in calming breath work, guided visualization, and affirmations to send little dreamers off to sleep believing they belong exactly as they are.

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SPEAKER_01 0:00

Welcome to Future Me, the podcast for dreamers, doers, and champions in the making. Get cozy, take a breath, and let's begin. Did you know Serena Williams has won 23 Grand Slam singles titles more than any other tennis player in modern era? That means 23 times she stepped onto a court in front of thousands of people under all that pressure and came out on top twenty three times. Hold on to that number, because tonight you're gonna find out exactly how she got there. Alright, let's get cozy. Wiggle yourself into your favorite spot, pull that blanket all the way up, take a slow deep breath in, and breathe it all the way out. One more time, breathe in. And breathe out. Let the whole day just drift away. Good, you're here. And tonight is going to be a good one. Tonight's story is about a girl who grew up in one of the toughest neighborhoods in America. A girl whose father wrote down her future on a piece of paper before she was even old enough to read it. A girl who was told she was too loud, too strong, too different, and who decided that every single one of those things was actually her superpower. Her name is Serena Williams. And by the time I'm done tonight, I think you might see yourself in her too. Serena Jamika Williams was born in Saginaw, Michigan, and grew up in Compton, California. Compton was a tough place. The streets were hard, resources were scarce, and it was not the kind of neighborhood where people expected world champions to be born. But Serena's father, Richard Williams, had a plan. Before Serena was ever born, Richard had watched a tennis player win a tournament on television and earn a lot of money. And he thought, I want my daughters to do that. I'm gonna teach them tennis. There was just one problem. Richard Williams didn't know how to play tennis. So he taught himself. He read books, he watched videos, he figured it out. And then he took his daughters, Serena, and her older sister Venus, to the cracked public tennis courts in Compton. Courts with weeds growing through the concrete. Courts where sometimes they had to wait for the neighborhood to quiet down before they could practice safely. And on those courts, Richard Williams wrote down a 78-page plan for how his daughters would become the best tennis players in the world. 78 pages for girls who were still learning how to hold a racket. That is what belief looks like. Serena trained every single day. She was fierce and powerful and fast. But when she started competing, the tennis world wasn't always kind to her. People said she didn't look like a typical tennis player. They questioned her, they underestimated her. There were times when the crowd was not on her side, when the calls seemed unfair, when the world made it very clear that it hadn't expected someone like her to make it this far. And every single time, Serena did the same thing. She walked back to the baseline, she bounced the ball, she breathed, and she served. Because Serena Williams learned something very early on that most people take a lifetime to understand. You cannot control what other people think of you. You can only control what you do next. She won her first Grand Slam title at 17 years old, then another. Then another. She won while injured. She won after illness. She won after having a baby. After nearly losing her life during childbirth. After doctors told her she might never compete again. She kept coming back. Every single time. 23 Grand Slam titles, four Olympic gold medals, ranked number one in the world for more than 300 weeks of her career. And through it all, she wore her identity like a crown. Her power, her style, her voice, her joy. She never shrunk herself to make others feel comfortable. She just kept growing. I want you to think about something Serena said once.

SPEAKER_00 4:51

She said, I really think a champion is defined not by their wins, but by how they can recover when they fall. Read that again in your mind. A champion is defined by how they recover when they fall. Not by being perfect, not by never struggling, not by having the easiest path, not by getting back up.

SPEAKER_01 5:21

Has there ever been a moment when you felt like you didn't belong somewhere? When someone made fun of you? When someone made you feel too much, too loud, too silly, too different, too big for the space you were in?

SPEAKER_00 5:40

Serena felt that over and over again.

SPEAKER_01 5:44

In some of the biggest stadiums in the world. And what she decided every time was that she belonged there exactly as she was. Not a smaller version of herself, not a quieter version, not a version that tried to look or sound like someone else. Just her. Fully, completely her.

SPEAKER_00 6:06

You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to be exactly who you are.

SPEAKER_01 6:12

Your difference is not a flaw. It's your edge. And the world doesn't need a smaller version of you. It needs all of you. Let's say these together. Slowly. Let each one settle in like a warm blanket. I belong exactly as I am. I get back up every single time. My difference is my superpower. I am strong and I am proud of who I am. I am future me. I am future me. As you drift towards sleep, I want you to picture yourself somewhere that feels important to you. A place where you do the thing you love. Picture yourself there. Fully yourself. Not trying to be smaller. Not trying to be someone else. See how you move. See how you shine. See the people around you. The ones who love you. Watching with so much pride. That version of you is real. She is already inside you. He is already inside you. Waiting for you to give them permission to come out. You are enough, exactly as you are. You are seen, you are loved, and tomorrow, future you is one day closer. Good night, champion. See you next time on Future Me. Serena's story opens up beautiful conversations about identity and belonging. If your child is still awake or tomorrow morning, you might ask, Is there something about yourself that makes you feel different from others? What do you love about that? Help them reframe anything they might see as a flaw into a feature. That shift is one of the greatest gifts you can give them. The world will spend a lot of time telling your child who they should be. Your job, and this podcast's job, is to remind them who they already are.