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Dear Richard Williams,
My name is Yuna Hollander. I hope this letter finds you well. I want to express my gratitude for you, unknowingly, showing me the way.
One afternoon, I saw a clip from the 1995 ABC News Day One broadcast when you stepped in to defend your daughter, Venus, from a reporter that was pressing her on why she felt so confident about an upcoming match. I was only a casual tennis fan at that point; only paying attention to big matches just because I didn’t want to miss out. My son was only four years old at the time, so I had no idea what was on the horizon for him. Just hopes and dreams for a life filled with happiness. But that interview and the way you so fiercely protected your daughter stuck with me. From that moment on, I followed the careers of Venus and Serena, and by extension, you.
I read about the detailed 85 page blueprint you wrote to turn your daughters into world tennis champions before they were even born. I watched videos of you coaching them on public, cracked courts in Los Angeles. I learned about the time you pulled Venus out of the junior circuit and delayed her professional debut to preserve her childhood. I admired the way you pushed them to be great but never too far that they were out of arms reach. The way you protected them in the media and made sure no one disrespected them or forgot that they were children. I paid attention to the way the media criticized you for your unorthodox style and listened to you when you called out the racism your daughters were facing in tournaments.
I had no idea that I was inadvertently using you as a blueprint for the way I would later manage my son's career.
My son, Shane, is a professional hockey player. I’m not sure if you’re a fan and it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re not. It’s not as big of a sport in the United States as it is for Canada, and it’s overwhelmingly White. But my son was just drafted second overall to the team I grew up loving and raised him to love as well. It was one of the happiest days of my life to see that all of his hard work had paid off. There is no joy like watching your child get to live out their dreams. I’m sure you know this well.
I put skates on his little feet when he was just three years old. I’ll never forget watching him fearlessly step out on the ice as my husband held his hand. The first push off was so natural that it made me catch my breath. I know every parent thinks their child is the best at everything they do, but my son truly is. And I saw that early. I knew that something special was happening before my eyes and it terrified me. Because I knew at some point that my husband and I would have to do something about it, if he decided to skate in that direction.
You see, my son is a hockey prodigy. Scouts generally don’t start attending competitive hockey games for young kids until they reach the U13 to U15 age groups. But I had scouts reaching out to me when Shane was just eleven. I could hear coaches and the parents of other players whispering about him when he was just eight. He’s always stood out, for several reasons.
My son is half Japanese. If anyone knows what it’s like watching their child participate and dominate in a predominately White sport, it’s you. I was the most present at his practices and games because his father had to work a lot. I watched parents look at my son with curiosity and then resentment when he got the best of their child. I watched my son get into hockey fights that were solely for the purpose of trying to put him in his place. I’ve had coaches and referees patronize me like I didn’t know what I was talking about. Like this sport hadn’t been the thing that made me finally feel a connection to a place people told me I didn’t belong.
I made sure Shane had the best coaches. I pulled him out of teams and leagues that didn’t respect or protect him. I kept the scouts away from him for as long as possible and tried my best to make sure hockey stayed fun. I’m not so sure I succeeded, but I tried.
I know that there were moments where I made things more difficult for him. Moments where I stood up for him when he would’ve preferred I stayed down. Times where he wished it was his father there instead of me, so he didn’t have to hear comments about his Mother who stood out amongst the sea of White parents and who at times was too outspoken. But I promised him that I would always fight for him so that he didn’t have to; your 1995 interview was always in the back of my mind.
I did eventually get quieter as things got more serious for his career. And sometimes I think maybe this was a mistake. Because he can be quiet at times too. There was a comment made about him after his draft that was surely a microaggression, and I didn’t say anything about it. I just smiled and subtly encouraged my son to show gratitude to the organization that had just drafted him. I wonder if I’ve raised him to be too kind, too polite and too passive about things he should be outwardly aggressive about. I walked a thin line trying to raise him to be someone who could exist in a hostile place. The moment is going to haunt me for a while, I think.
I wish I had prepared my son a little better. Prepared him for the weight of expectations as an Asian player in the NHL. I wish I had helped him understand that being the first to do something doesn’t have to be a burden. I wish he didn’t feel like he had to make himself smaller so he could fit in the spaces that weren’t built for him. I could’ve done better. I should’ve done better. But I tried my best and I gained the knowledge and confidence from watching what you did with your daughters: the greatest tennis players the sport has ever seen.
So for this, I say thank you, Mr. Williams. I really hope to meet you one day and shake your hand. If you’re ever in Montreal and would be interested in attending a hockey game, please let me know. Keep your eyes and ears open for the name Shane Hollander. He’s going to be in the same conversations as your lovely daughters. I did, of course, follow your blueprint.
Sincerely,
Yuna Hollander