American’s late-career revival is not over yet, after losing to Garbiñe Muguruza, and her sights are set on the US Open, which she won in 2000 and 2001

Venus Williams’ preposterous longevity in a sport notorious for burnout cases is impressive enough, not even accounting for the incurable autoimmune disease that has compromised her tennis for most of the past decade. The 37-year-old American’s road to the Wimbledon final included three straight victories against opponents born in 1997, the year Williams made her Wimbledon debut. But she came up short against the imperious Garbiñe Muguruza, a star-in-waiting who did what young lions do to older champions.

Yet Williams’ runner-up finish is the type of accomplishment that will strain the credulity among future generations. The oldest player in the top 300 – the third-oldest in the top 1,000 – came within one win of becoming the oldest Wimbledon ladies’ singles champion since 1908. This was a big deal.

It would be a compelling enough yarn for the tennis alone but it has never been just about tennis with the Williams sisters, who burst from the playgrounds of Compton two decades ago as braided teenage iconoclasts and the ultimate outsiders: a pair of black female Jehovah’s Witnesses from the sport’s outer rim who came to dominate a space predominantly owned, played and watched by rich white people. She was quickly eclipsed by the more outspoken Serena, who shocked the world by winning the family’s first grand slam at the 1999 US Open – nine months before Venus broke her duck at the All England Club.

Garbiñe Muguruza crowned Wimbledon champion after beating Venus Williams Read more

Together the sisters fought their way on to the stage amid derision and criticism from all corners, leveraging the twin burdens of racism and sexism with uncommon grace. But it was Venus who was first through the fire, endowing her with an ability to block out distractions that has often felt superhuman.

Never more was this placidity put to the test than over the past fortnight, as Williams has negotiated her way through her 20th and most difficult Wimbledon in the wake of unspeakable tragedy. Days before her arrival, Palm Beach Gardens police alleged that Williams ran a red light in her Toyota Sequoia SUV at around 1pm on 9 June, injuring 79-year-old Jerome Barson, who died 13 days later. Barson was riding in the passenger seat when the Hyundai Accent driven by his wife, Linda, crashed into the side of Williams’s vehicle.

The initial police statement – issued, notably, before the investigation had been completed – said Williams was at fault in the crash as a result of “violating the right of way” of the other vehicle. Cue the screaming headlines and 140-character outrage that served as the backdrop of Williams’ first-round victory, prompting her to break down in tears during the post-match press conference when pressed on the details.

Then last Friday, police quietly released a statement saying Williams drove lawfully in the intersection. Whether the amendment was prompted by video of the incident released by the website TMZ is unclear and the case remains open. “You can’t prepare for everything,” Williams said last week. “I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. That’s all I can say about it. That’s what I’ve learned.”

And so Venus has done what she does best: persist. Winter is the most compelling season of an elite athlete’s narrative, when the hero must compensate for the erosion of physical gifts with wits and imagination. Think of Muhammad Ali, no longer able to pirouette from harm’s way, baiting George Foreman from the ropes in Zaire with a confounding economy of movement; or of Michael Jordan’s trained evolution into one of the NBA’s finest post players in his 30s when the explosive vertical game of his 20s was no longer at his command.

The third act of Venus’s career, too often dwarfed by her sister’s incandescent late period, has been nearly as remarkable. Her ascent represented a leap-forward moment for the women’s tour, but Williams has customised her game: shortening points with maddening efficiency and making fewer unforced errors than ever. She was playing in her 75th major – the most in the Open era – and will find herself back in the top 10 on Monday alongside players nearly half her age. That her resurgence has come nearly a decade after she was diagnosed with Sjogren’s syndrome, an incurable autoimmune disease with unpredictable symptoms that cast major doubt on her tennis future, is all the more stunning.

It takes even hardcore tennis observers by surprise to realise Venus, given her outsize standing in the sport and first-name familiarity in culture at large, has spent a scant 11 weeks at No1 – fewer than all but one of the 22 women who have reached the top spot (Karolina Pliskova is set to join their number on Monday). Yes, she has won seven major titles and made herself known in even more influential ways, most notably her capital role in the fight for equal prize money.

But she is perhaps best known as the catalyst that helped the younger sister lift her game to previously unimaginable heights. Seven of Venus’s nine losses in grand slam finals have come against Serena – most recently in January’s Australian Open final. What Venus might have accomplished if not for her sororal barrier remains one of the most tantalising what-ifs in sports.

Now she will turn to the hard-court season and, ultimately, the US Open, where she made her first slam final 20 years ago. And after the season she has put together so far, who would doubt her? “I’ve been in a position a lot of times this year to contend for big titles,” she said. “That’s the kind of position I want to keep putting myself in. It’s just about getting over the line. I believe I can do that.”