With sequins in her hair and what – quite perfectly – looked as much an evening gown as a tennis outfit, Serena Williams served for the set but failed.

The US Open audience was excited but nervous. Serena is a 23-time major champion. Her opponent, Danka Kovinic, is a 27-year-old player who has never made it past the third round at a Major. Previously, this would take about 53 minutes.

However, Serena is now older and the mother of daughters. She is injured. She hardly plays anymore. She is preparing to retire.

Just like that, the whole night of this first match felt like a wire show, thunderous applause amidst lingering anxiety, fear of a collapse that would end while trying to appreciate Appreciate the present and celebrate this moment.

That is when Serena dug profound. That is the point at which she arrived at back. That is the point at which she brought the wistfulness that everybody from celebrities to previous presidents came to witness maybe once and for all.

That is the point at which she impacted two serves directly past Kovinic and took the main set the manner in which she did in transit to bringing home six singles titles here.

The Sovereign of Sovereigns would have one more triumph at Arthur Ashe Arena, named after the trailblazer that had propelled her family to accept it could climb unrealistically off open courts on a traffic intersection in Compton to worldwide superstardom.

She beat Kovinic in straight sets (6-3, 6-3) to set off a festival that was a lifelong really taking shape.

There are minutes she can play as well as could be expected. There are minutes she doesn’t squander energy running after shots. Time is undefeated and Serena, who previously stunned in Flushing Knolls in 1999 when she won the US Open as a 17-year-old with dots in her hair, is facing it.

Regardless. This isn’t tied in with winning another major — essentially not for the fans. This is around one more. Another night where she was the headliner. Another unimaginable volley that enlivened minds. Another triumph they could pour cheers down onto her.

This was a big name rich show off where tickets on the optional market were hitting more than $5,000 a pop. A long service was held after the match. This was New York, the US Open at its greatest and most splendid and boldest, simply the manner in which Serena generally hungered for it.

Back to start with, back during breaks in preparing on the double tennis courts of East Rancho Dominguez Park, Richard Williams used to challenge his girls to dream.

They were not, he would agree, in that frame of mind of Compton, encompassed by a pawn shop, a pre-owned vehicle part and a weed-tossed field. They were any place their psyches could take them.

Imagine this serve is for a major tennis championship, Richard would say. Which one do you want to win most, he would ask.

Venus Williams would always say Wimbledon, the oldest of the majors played outside London and known for its pristine white uniforms and crisp grass courts and royals in the box. It felt sophisticated.

Serena saw it completely differently. She wanted the speed of hard courts, the heat and humidity of August, the rowdiness of the fans, the action of the city. She wanted the wild tournament, the American Tournament.

“The Open,” she would say.

So the Open it would be. It’s where she would first win a major. It’s where she would seemingly choose to walk away. It was the perfect stage for this near perfect player. The spins. The slams. The power. The precision. The fashion. The style.

She is a global icon, of course, but an American one first. A force of nature and personality for more than her undetectable, yet vicious, serve. It is the way she carries herself, unapologetically proud in every way, for African Americans, for women, for mothers, for little sisters, for anyone who just loves watching the competitive heart of a champion.

She sent generations of talent packing, overpowering and then outlasting them all. She won the 2017 Australian Open while in the early stages of a pregnancy. She returned after the birth of her daughter, Alexis Olympia, and managed to make the finals in four more majors, including twice in New York.

And here, on what otherwise would have been just another opening round match, just another night at the Open, she thrilled once again. In the pressure moments she was her old, glorious self playing to those old, deafening cheers.