The Wizards of Oz, starring Australian Open women’s champion Aryna Sabalenka

The story you are about to read is a work of historical fiction—an imaginative narrative featuring real people and occurrences that draw heavily on reality. The protagonist is Aryna Sabalenka, winner of the 2023 Australian Open women’s singles title. Having just spent a fortnight in the zone competitors live for, Sabalenka is now about to enter a zone of an entirely different nature. Call it, The Wizards of Oz: A Tennis Twilight Zone.

It was 8:30 a.m. on this summer day. In a Melbourne hotel room, Aryna Sabalenka reflected on what had just happened. Last night had been glorious, Sabalenka beating Elena Rybakina in the finals of the Australian Open, 4-6, 6-3, 6-4. How fantastic it had been to raise the Daphne Akhurst Memorial Cup.

Seeing a light on the room phone, Sabalenka called the front desk.

“G’day, Ms. Sabalenka,” said the receptionist, “it’s a beautiful morning in Melbourne, already a toasty 32 Cs. Your coach called and said he’ll be here to pick you up at 10. Good luck today.”

Good luck?

Sabalenka saw a text from her coach, Anton Dubrov: Wear your tennis clothes and bring all your equipment.

“You won’t believe this,” he said once they met, “but you’ve got to play today.”

Then they saw someone walk by, carrying a newspaper that bore this headline:

Oz Final to Feature Sizzling Sabalenka and Motivated Monica

What was going on? Soon enough, a tournament car arrived. Odd that the vehicle looked more than 20 years old.

“G’day,” said the driver, “best of luck this afternoon.” Again with the luck. Hadn’t she just won the tournament last night? He also said, “So this is the year we’re supposed to get ready for Y2K. I’ve backed up all my floppy drives.”

Sabalenka had entered a tennis time warp, back to the ‘90s, when the final was played in daylight. The opponent was four-time Australian Open champion Monica Seles.

The hotel receptionist was right, the on-court temperature now close to 150 degrees Fahrenheit. While having a pre-match hit, Sabalenka felt a strange sticky feeling under her feet, as if she’d stepped onto a tiny piece of chewing gum. “It’s called Rebound Ace,” said Dubrov. “It’s rubber, made of crushed tires. Just be careful.”

Sabalenka had heard of Seles, but knew little about her tennis. Up close, Seles hardly seemed imposing. That seemed the case even in the warmup as the two exchanged groundstrokes, Seles whipping the ball with two hands off both sides and then hitting a lefty serve.

On the first point of the match, Sabalenka missed her first serve. When she looked up, there was Seles, standing four feet inside the baseline. Really? But barely had Sabalenka finished her motion than the ball arrived—deep, hard, and three inches inside her left baseline. The pattern repeated itself on the next point. Broken at love, Sabalenka figured she’d soon enough assert herself in the rallies. That wasn’t easy either, Seles hitting the ball so early that her shots angled off the court in all sorts of directions. Time and time again, the linespersons signaled good on a Seles missile.

The two went back-and-forth, splitting the first two sets. At 6-6 in the third, Sabalenka prepared herself for a decisive tiebreaker. Dubrov yelled, “Be ready.” Turns out he wasn’t talking about a tiebreaker. In those days, the final set was played out. So much for this being “The Happy Slam.”

At 14-15, Sabalenka felt the heat so badly she began to feel faint on a changeover, entering a dream-like state.

“Wake up, Aryna, wake up,” said Dubrov. “You’ve got to beat this lefty.”

But it wasn’t Seles. It was another lefthander, Martina Navratilova, who’d won the Australian Open three times in the ‘80s. And the setting now wasn’t Melbourne Park, but a quaint venue five miles east from there known as Kooyong Lawn Tennis Club.

“Good news,” said Dubrov. “You’ll play her on grass.” Having reached the semis at Wimbledon, Sabalenka knew she’d feel comfortable on the surface. As she and Navratilova warmed up, though, Sabalenka noticed this grass didn’t play at all like Wimbledon. The bounces were low and erratic. It hardly bothered Navratilova, who struck volleys the likes of which Sabalenka had never seen before. One after another darted through the court. Navratilova even came in just about all the time after serving. Soon the wind picked up, just as it had when Navratilova won the title the first time in ‘81, beating Chrissie Evert in highly gusty conditions.

Following the end of the second set, Sabalenka told the chair umpire, “I need to leave the court.”

She entered the locker room. Locker room? More like a closet, smaller than those she’d had at many junior tournaments.

In came Billie Jean King, walking briskly with three racquets under her arm. Sabalenka recognized her from those nights that seven of the “Original Nine”—the women who’d started the pro tour—had sat right behind the baseline inside Rod Laver Arena, watching the tennis.

“Hey beaut,” King said to Sabalenka, “Time for us soon. Enjoy every minute. You’re young and you’re great.”

Only now did it dawn on Sabalenka: When she’d left the court versus Navratilova, she’d entered yet another time portal. Her new opponent was King, clad in an all-white outfit.

“I wonder what they’re going to give us this year,” said King, “a scarf or a sweater.”

“That’s a nice gift,” said Sabalenka.

“Gift? That’s first prize.”

“What are you talking about? I have a check for two million dollars that I put into my tennis bag and left inside the hotel safe this morning.”

“That’s because you’re a pro and Open tennis finally happened in ’68, a few weeks after I beat Margaret Court in the finals for my only singles win here. We play for trinkets. I keep everything inside this racquet cover and have been staying with a local family. At least this year’s house has air conditioning.”

King approached Sabalenka. “Golly, it’s just like I’ve always said, you guys are bigger, stronger, faster,” said King. “So how ‘bout this? Since you’ve got all that on me, how ‘bout we trade racquets for this match?” This was around the time King began to transition from a wood frame to the Wilson T-2000, a steel racquet introduced in 1967 that had zero torque and a sweet spot the size of a fingernail.

“I don’t know,” said Sabalenka.

“Oh come on,” shouted another voice, “give ‘The Old Lady’ a chance.” That was Rosie Casals, one of the other members of the Original Nine who’d been in the audience that night in ‘23 and had nicknamed King “The Old Lady” way back in the early ‘60s. While Sabalenka recognized Casals, she didn’t know this story about King: On one of the rare occasions when Casals was beating King, King asked Casals if she could borrow one of Rosie’s racquets. Casals complied and ended up losing.

Sabalenka sized up King—seven inches shorter, wearing glasses.

“OK,” she said, “We’ll trade racquets. But no white balls.”

Leafing through a magazine in the tournament office, Sabalenka learned that King was also a serve-and-volley player, similar to Navratilova. But on the first point of the match, King stayed at the baseline and carved a crosscourt slice forehand so low that Sabalenka could barely get her racquet on the ball. The same thing happened on the second point, only this time, King’s backhand dug the divot. As Sabalenka reached for it, she suddenly saw King dart forward and crack a backhand volley winner. On the next point, figuring King wasn’t going to serve and volley, Sabalenka aimed her return high over the net. But instead, King this time did follow her serve into the net and was able to easily clip off an untouchable forehand volley. Was King really hitting every ball with the same grip? And holding two balls in her hand? Fascinating.

This was all becoming too frustrating. Seles, Navratilova, King—39 Grand Slam singles titles between them, including eight Down Under.

“Can I see the referee?” Sabalenka asked the chair umpire.

Suddenly someone floated onto the court, waving a wood Dunlop Maxply frame in the air. It was one of the most popular players in tennis history, Australian Evonne Goolagong. “Evonne was so smooth,” King told Sabalenka. “She won here four times in the ‘70s. I never played it then. Hardly any of us did. We were all busy trying to make the tour grow.”

“What seems to be the problem?” asked Goolagong.

“I don’t understand what’s happened here,” said Sabalenka. “I won the tournament and now I’ve had to go back in time. Why’d I have to do that?”

“We Aussies enjoy giving people we like a go. We thought it would make you appreciate ‘The Happy Slam’ even more if you had a look at some of your mates who came before you. Was it really that awful to play Monica, Martina, and Billie Jean?”

“Well, yes and no. They’re all really good. Can’t I just go back to where I was?”

“Of course you can. All you have to do is click your heels together three times and say, ‘There’s no place like Rod Laver Arena, there’s no place like Rod Laver Arena, there’s no place like Rod Laver Arena.’”

Soon Sabalenka was back inside Rod Laver Arena. As she was handed the Daphne Akhurst Memorial Cup, there on the court was Billie Jean King.

“Great job, Aryna.”

“I had a dream that I played you—and Martina, and Monica. Talk about pressure.”

“Pressure is a privilege. And thanks for the racquet.”