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One night last week, I sang Part of Your World at a karaoke party for Serena Williams to celebrate the start of the U.S. Open. And I didn't stop there. I did a rousing duet with Rosie Perez of You Don't Bring Me Flowers, and then sang the hell out of Tomorrow from Annie with Uzo Aduba from Orange Is the New Black.

What I didn't realize was that Part of Your World was Serena's favourite song, but unsurprisingly she took it in her stride and belted out Under the Sea instead. However, when she got to the line "You dream about going up there, but that is a big mistake," she pointed menacingly in my direction and added: "Alan!"

The whole room turned and stared at me.

I thought I might be the world's first ever sacrifice at the hands of an indignant mob of karaoke tennis lovers, incandescent with rage at my larceny against their high priestess.

Before all that, though, I discovered in an interview, on the way in, that some of the celebrities in attendance had announced they wouldn't be singing. Why come to a karaoke party then, I wondered aloud? Of course, the free booze, car for the evening and two first-class return airline tickets to anywhere in the U.S. (the party was sponsored by Delta) was something of a lure for me, too, but I felt they could have tried a bit harder to be team players. And indeed, some of the guests who had sworn off getting up and performing actually did, and, of course, had a blast. But I do sympathize with those too craven to karaoke. I used to be the same way. I think I felt so self-conscious because being a performer and a singer are components of my job, and I couldn't disassociate from the feeling of being judged in a professional way in order to relax and have a good time.

Eventually, though, I reasoned that nobody expects anyone to sound good in a karaoke bar. In fact, I think that sounding amazing at karaoke is the equivalent of a bride looking beautiful on her wedding day – we all pretend to be in awe but really we'd rather you did the musical equivalent of letting your hair down and farting. Karaoke is not about sounding good, it's about showing people you can let go. It's no wonder it originated in Japan where order and manners are of deadly importance in all strata of society. How perfect to have a national pastime that screams for you to throw all that decorum out the window. In fact, the more you are willing to make a fool of yourself the better you are at the game, and the more fun will be had by everyone.

My karaoke epiphany happened gradually, though.

First of all I would only do duets, but then I realized that singing a song like the one from Annie was a good move because the entire audience was physically incapable of refraining from singing along too, thereby lessening the feeling of exposure. And you only need two or three numbers in your repertoire, I've found. That way you don't hog the mike too much but still feel sated, and prove that you're a really good sport to boot.

Things like alcohol help too, but also I find the energy of my fellow chanteurs is infectious and indeed the other night even before my first glass of vodka soda was drained I had leaped up and begun to warble what turned out to be Serena's go-to tune.

Which brings me back to Ms. Williams. What an epic woman. She is about to embark on what must be the most stress-inducing couple of weeks of her life. The whole world is watching, yearning even, for her to win the U.S. Open and achieve the first Grand Slam in tennis in 27 years. And what does she do to let off steam? She sings songs from the Little Mermaid, that's what. And she looked gorgeous as she did so. (And she took a picture with my assistant, so she is forever a goddess at ACHQ.)

Serena has got it right: she achieves excellence in everything because she has absolute focus. Focus on her game, focus on her fun. What a great role model she is, gracious even when middle-aged Scotsmen steal her song.

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