In every match between Venus and Serena Williams, there is a grassy-knoll moment when the conspiracy seems shockingly clear. Before that, every errant shot, every hesitation, every facial expression from the tennis world's dominant sisters is grist for speculation. Is Serena trying to win, to lose, to carry her sister to the finish? Is Venus? Why the smile, the grunt, the grimace? What did that forehand mean, anyway? Then comes the moment that seems to confirm all suspicions, like the one that occurred last Saturday in the women's final of the 2003 Wimbledon championships. With defending champion Serena down 4-5, double break point in the opening set, the sisters engaged in a 17-stroke rally devoid of intensity and marked by a bizarre patty-cake overhead by Serena and, finally, Serena's wounded-duck drop shot from the baseline, which flew three feet wide. So the fix was in again, some wanted to believe, except that inthe end, Serena won her second Grand Slam final this year over her sister and her fifth in two years. Their wrenching three-set showdown in London lacked everything a great match requires--except conclusiveness. If anything, Serena's dominance should forever put to rest any notion that the Williams family is cooking the results like so many English breakfasts. Against Andy Roddick's clanky baseline attack, Roger Federer flowed effortlessly from defense to offense, absorbing Roddick's massive serve, punishing him from the backcourt and cruising forward to conjure up volley after breathtaking volley. Federer had never advanced past the quarterfinals in a Grand Slam event before, but the man who showed up at Centre Court on Sunday wasn't the same one who lost in the first round of Wimbledon a year ago.