Serena Williams (left) and Maria Sharapova are proof that what’s true in nature is just as true in polite society – two alpha predators cannot amicably co-exist.
At the outset of a major tennis tournament, the players arrive in packs. They're stuck together at an entrance for a while being put through the same security screening as the patrons.
It often looks like the first day back at school – a lot of hugging, high-fiving and teenage banter.
The tour is a friendly place. Maybe a little too friendly. The open bitterness players like John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors once showed each other feels very long ago. It seems unthinkable that anyone might hop the net mid-match in an attempt to start a brawl, as Connors once did. You begin to miss those days.
Maybe people have got nicer. Or maybe it's better for the brand to be seen as such.
Thankfully, there is one small corner of real bile left in tennis – Serena Williams versus Maria Sharapova.
They are the twin pillars of the last decade of women's tennis, similar in a series of fascinating ways. Both were driven by their fathers. Both emerged from unlikely places (Compton, Calif., and Siberia). Both used an esoteric talent to carve out empires. Despite that – or perhaps, because of it – they hate each other.
They're proof that what's true in nature is just as true in polite society – two alpha predators cannot amicably co-exist.
This animus busted out into public after a 2013 Rolling Stone interview in which Williams was quoted rubbishing the Russian: "She begins every interview with 'I'm so happy. I'm so lucky' – it's boring."
There was a man in the middle of it – Sharapova's current boyfriend, Bulgarian player Grigor Dimitrov. Dimitrov is also Williams's ex.
Stung, Sharapova took an unsporting swipe at Williams's current partner, her coach, Patrick Mouratoglou. She sniffed at "[Williams's] boyfriend that was married and is getting a divorce and has kids."
Oh dear.
This week, Mouratoglou told the New York Times he thinks Belarusian Victoria Azarenka is "much better" than Sharapova, the world No. 2.
"I don't think you're ever going to hear nice words from him about me," Sharapova shrugged.
Why?
"I'm sure you know."
Yes, it's ugly, but it's sometimes nice to be reminded there are stakes at this level beyond money and trophies. Athletes like to use the word "fight." Occasionally, it should actually be one.
Williams and Sharapova met in the Wimbledon semi-final on Thursday. They stalked in together, each oblivious to the other's presence. They wouldn't look at each other during the coin toss. As the umpire was saying, "Good luck," Williams was already halfway back to her chair. Their post-match handshake achieved Yasser Arafat-Yitzhak Rabin levels of unsubtle hostility.
This isn't a rivalry, as such. Sharapova has not beaten Williams for 10 years. Williams can occasionally suffer apathetic drift during matches, but never against this woman. This is always personal.
Sharapova was overpowered from the jump. Before the end of the first set, she was leaping side-to-side, trying to guess where Williams's serve was headed. It was – and you want to use this word sparingly at this stage of a Grand Slam – embarrassing.
It ended in 79 minutes, 6-2, 6-4. On the court, Sharapova is more Williams's punching bag than her nemesis. It's been five years since she took a set off the American.
It's gotten so predictable that the other women's finalist, surprising Spaniard Garbine Muguruza, didn't bother with politics when asked beforehand whom she thought would advance from the second match: "Probably Serena."
Sharapova still has one advantage that keeps this interesting. Thanks to her global sponsorships, she earns $30-million (U.S.) a year – a greater amount than her far more accomplished enemy. Eleven years removed from her only Wimbledon title, Sharapova is the highest earning female athlete in the world.
But as Williams once acidly pointed out, "She's still not going to be invited to the cool parties."
You can imagine how this might grind at you. Sharapova armours herself with a pose of elegant hauteur. Most tennis players – women and men – make real efforts to project warmth. It's good for business, and they seem to enjoy it.
Sharapova is a human cold front. She is so visibly put out speaking to the rabble, you have to admire her for it. She will not bend at the altar of public relations.
During the fortnight, the local tabs raked her (sigh … again) for her on-court screeching. British Prime Minister David Cameron jumped in, warning that spectators should "bring their earplugs" to SW19.
Given a chance to comment (sigh … again) on the tiresome row, Sharapova said, "Next question, please."
But she couldn't leave without tossing a grenade over her shoulder.
Asked how she felt losing at this stage, she said, "Maybe if I was British, a semi-final would be incredible … I'd be on the front page of papers."
Some of the same Brits who've been ripping her in the yellow press gasped delightedly at her cheek. In future, Sharapova ought to do her news availabilities while stroking a cat and inputting the nuclear launch codes.
As the loser skulked off home, Williams was allowed the luxury of magnanimity. Unlike Sharapova, she has mastered the art of being charming while speaking insincerely.
"It's never easy to beat such a great player who's had such a wonderful career," she said, sounding as if she might actually mean it. Drake was seated in front of her in the audience. Williams shot him a meaningful look.
Emboldened, another of those tab writers tried to gull Williams into admitting the Canadian rap star is her "mascot."
You can imagine how well that went over.
When things were breaking up, the writer leapt over to Drake, hand extended, hoping for a special moment. Drake looked at him as if he were insane. The golden pair walked out together, laughing at their mutual good fortune.
Williams has the titles. Sharapova has the money. But only one of them is still going to all the cool parties.
Follow me on Twitter: @cathalkelly