It's the spring of 1991 in a hotel restaurant, just a few blocks from Los Angeles International

Airport. Rick Macy flew in from Florida last night and is stirring a styrofoam cup of

complimentary coffee. He's waiting for his meeting to begin.

Macy is a tennis coach and he's here in LA to meet a young player. Someone he hopes

can maybe get his coaching career back on track. The coach only knows a little bit about

the man with whom he's scheduled to meet, a 49-year-old guy from Compton, one of the

roughest neighborhoods in LA. The guy says he's coaching the best tennis player in the world

and that player is his daughter.

The guy owns some kind of security firm but nobody in the tennis world has ever heard

of it. His name is Richard Williams. His daughter's name is Venus.

Macy wanted to see Venus for himself as Richard's hype was just too much to believe. And Venus

apparently isn't the end of the story. Richard also mentioned that he has another daughter

who's also great. It all sounded too good to be true, so Macy hopped a flight to LA

to come watch Venus hit. If her dad's claim is even a little bit true, even 10% thinks

Macy. It could be one of the most incredible tennis stories in the history of the sport.

Sitting in the hotel restaurant on the edge of a well-worn chair, Macy adds another sugar

to his cheap coffee. He's still waiting for Williams to show. Macy glances toward the

automatic double doors and wonders if this wild goose chase is even worth it. And that's

when he spots the trio out of the corner of his eye. Three people hand in hand, walk

into the light. In the middle, there's Richard, a tall, lean man with legs that look even

longer with his short white shorts. He also walks with the noticeable limb. On each side,

a young girl grasps one of his hands. The taller one to his left walks slowly, matching

...