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(Evert now says Serena is the best of all time.) Hell, even dating Brett Ratner couldn’t stop her. “I’ve thought it would be cool to have a baby young,” says Serena. “Come on in,” she says, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Neither could older sister Venus, merely the second-best tennis player of the past 20 years. “You know, be my road dog – like my dogs, they travel the world – but there’s always something you have to give up for success. “I’ve got to practice, ugh.” Then her face brightens. I’m getting them done in colors that change with my mood.

But the action takes place in the ­kitchen, where a cook hands Serena a green potion. “I had chicken and waffles the other day, so I’ve got to make up for it,” she says.

“Ai yi yi.” An assistant brings in some new Green Day T-shirts – they’re her favorite band.

After each one, tennis gurus whispered, “That was Serena’s last hurrah.” Not quite.

This year she has won the past four tournaments she’s entered and is on a 31-match winning streak, the longest of her career.

Amazon boxes and dozens of shoes sit stacked in the foyer next to a giant painting of Venus.

(She’s not around.) There’s a sparkly chandelier and a massive antique mirror leaning against the wall.

(“I don’t know where all that mentor stuff came from,” Serena says.

“I am definitely not that girl’s mentor.”) She’s been recovering from the ankle injury for two months, but if anyone is feeling the pressure, nobody shows it.

Jackie, Serena’s beloved old white dog, curls up in her tennis bag and goes to sleep.

Serena changes from the Green Day shirt – she doesn’t want to get it sweaty – and slips on an Incredible Hulk T-shirt festooned with six-pack abs.

Bajin is ready to warm up, but Serena has other things on her mind.