Last summer, Simona Halep revealed that her friends call her "Money". As nicknames go, it is not the most sophisticated, but after her victory over Serena Williams at Wimbledon on Saturday - where she claimed a prize of £2.5 million - you could not accuse it of being factually inaccurate.
Grand slam finals, of course, are rarely about the financial spoils. And this match perhaps even less than most. For Halep, it was her first final at SW19 and the first ever for a Romanian woman. For Williams, it was even more loaded: a chance not only to equal Margaret Court's record of 24 grand slam singles titles, but to silence the critics who have questioned her form since her return to the sport at the end of 2017, after giving birth to daughter Olympia.
On paper, of course, Williams was the one to beat - this being her 11th Wimbledon final (she has won seven). Indeed, she had broken two records before even walking out on Centre Court: becoming the oldest finalist in the open era at 37 years and 290 days (pity the poor Wimbledon staffer who had to work that out) and achieving the longest gap between a first and most recent final - 18 years, surpassing Martina Navratilova's 16.
But she could not achieve the record that mattered to her most, as she lost to Halep in just 56 minutes. Now the question is, will she ever?
When Williams was beaten 6-3, 6-3 by Angelique Kerber last year, I resisted asking that question. It was her first grass-court slam final after childbirth and a milestone in itself, given the tiny number of female players who return to the sport after starting a family. For her, 2018 seemed to be as much about blazing a trail as a new mother as the tennis itself. And blaze it she did, encouraging other women on the circuit to campaign for more protections; the maintenance of their world ranking during maternity leave, as well as on-site creches and more considerate scheduling of matches at tournaments.
Her openness about the challenge of parenthood was praised and she was rightly held up as a champion for working women everywhere. As Patrick Mouratoglou, her coach, said last week: "She could have stayed at home, become a mother, start a second life. She decided to make an incredible effort to come back."
This year, it has felt more about the tennis. Williams appeared fitter and leaner. Taking my seat on a packed Centre Court on Saturday, I felt hopeful that I was about to witness something historic. Not to mention poetic: Williams was 17 when she won her first slam; the US Open in 1999. What pleasing symmetry to have snagged her 24th precisely 20 years on - one of those "I was there moments" you hope for as a journalist and Serena Williams fan. No doubt her friend the Duchess of Sussex felt the same way; she seemed markedly less diplomatic than during last year's final, when she politely clapped for Kerber. Halep received far fewer moments of congratulation.
But if there is anything we have learnt since Williams's comeback, just three months after suffering life-threatening blood clots following a traumatic Caesarean, nothing can be taken for granted.
It would be easy to ask whether the "years are catching up with her," as I heard one commentator remark on Saturday. The truth is more complicated than that. Her 2019 has been plagued by injury - the persistent knee problem that meant that she only had 12 matches under her belt coming into Wimbledon. A convenient excuse? Only four players out of the 127 in the women's draw had played fewer, and none of them came within touching distance of the Venus Rosewater Dish.
There have also been losses of early round matches and of temper, most notably at the US Open last year, when Williams was docked a game during the final for supposedly taking signals from her coach, something she denied. So violent was the backlash that, almost a year on, the 37-year-old felt the need to pen an essay for the current issue of Harper's Bazaar, putting forward her side of the story. God forbid a woman stand up for herself and show emotion on court.
She is not afraid to show emotion off court, either, to her 11.3 million Instagram followers, with whom she shares intimate portraits of family life with Olympia and Alexis Ohanian, her husband, red carpet poses and pictures with celebrity friends from Anna Wintour to model Adwoa Aboah.
Yet there are those who find it a distraction. Over the past fortnight, Williams's sometime mentor Billie Jean King has given a series of interviews advising her to "give up being a celebrity for a year and a half," saying: "She's got business, a baby, she's trying to help gender equity … I would like to see her put everything else aside from [tennis]."
Williams's response, when I asked her about it on Saturday, was characteristically unwavering. "The day I stop fighting for equality for people who look like you and me is the day I'm in my grave," she told me.
Amen, I mouthed back at her. It is for this - as well as for her tennis - that Williams is the woman they call GOAT and, to me, the ultimate sporting icon.
As Judy Murray, a woman who knows a thing or two about all-time greats, wrote in The Daily Telegraph last week: "She breaks out of the tennis bubble to be recognised by the wider public. She is used in promotional campaigns by numerous major brands, she is friends with dozens of celebrities and she even has her own TV series.
"Above all, she uses her voice and her global platform to speak out on social causes and areas of inequality. When you consider where the Williams sisters came from, and all the racial, social and gender obstacles they surmounted, it is one of the greatest stories in sport."
And I am certain it is not a story that is over.