Concrete Elbow by Steve Tignor - Overload
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Overload 09/09/2010 - 8:26 PM

Youzhny The U.S. Open is a memory machine: Every court, every corner turned, calls one up. But they tumble in with no context attached; I can’t identify the year when they happened. As I've said before, my two weeks here blend into my two weeks here last year, which had already blended into the two weeks from the year before that. Tennis pushes everything else to the side: politics, books, movies, Mad Men, the Phillies, even money. The lowliest press member can eat pulled pork and Indian food for two weeks without forking over a dime.

My trip from my office in Manhattan to my desk under Arthur Ashe Stadium alone was enough to bring the following moments vividly back to life:

—The excitement I felt, on an early family trip to New York for the Open, when I saw a McDonald’s in midtown. It had two floors. It was was something on the order of the Taj Mahal in my 10-year-old mind.

—Arriving too early for our first Open and waiting for an hour outside the front gates, an aggravation made worthwhile by the sight of a very small Chris Evert passing through the crowd nearby, protected by what looked like a phalanx of bodyguards, though I seem to remember that they allowed her to carry her dozen wooden Wilson racquets herself. I don’t think I’d ever seen a celebrity in civilian clothes before. Seeing Chris in a T-shirt, sunglasses and jeans, rather than her customary Ellesse was shocking and weird. She looked like a movie star: cocky.

—A couple years later, passing by a court where Jimmy Connors was practicing and feeling the energy coming even before I knew who it was. Connors was electric even in practice, bobbing, weaving, his hair flying side to side with every move. Like a boxer, he had all kinds of people on the court with him, bodyguards, coaches, buddies, assorted hangers-on. It’s been said that Jimbo was a master as making his own fight the audience’s fight, too. He did that in practice, hammering everything with gusto. And then, all of a sudden, he was done. He sat down, talking all the time, drained a bottle of Coke in one long gulp, and left.

—Coming around toward the player’s lounge today, I saw the usual mass of kids jammed together waiting for autographs. I remembered this same scene from 10 years ago. Roger Federer, owner of no Grand Slam titles, ambled onto the grounds, alone, carrying nothing, his hands in his pockets. When the kids started to scream, he flashed that little bemused smile of his and waded in to start signing. When he was done, he put his hands back in his pockets and ambled away, not seeming to be going anywhere in particular, unnoticed.

—I can never pass Court 13 without thinking of two particular matches that I watched there. One was a senior doubles job featuring Ilie Nastase. Hat backwards, hair white, hobbling—not running, not walking, hobbling—through points, he could still carve up a drop shot as magical as any current pro’s. The aging process is especially tragic and frustrating for tennis players. The skills largely remain; there’s just no way to use them.

The second match featured a young Jelena Jankovic. Late in the third set, the chair umpire overruled a call against her. Jankovic bent forward in agony, held out her hand toward the umpire, and said, in that furry, pleading voice we all know, “Why do you change that one? There have been thousands and thousands of terrible calls in this match, and you change that one.”

—Another side court was the sight of the coldest match I ever watched: five sets between Tomas Berdych and Dmitry Tursunov, something like three years ago. Every ball was poleaxed; the sound of the racquets was frightening. Neither of these two blond Europeans showed the slightest hint of emotion, or even interest—not once. After three hours, the final was ball was smashed, they walked expressionlessly to the net, shook hands without a smile or a nod, and walked off.

—The lower bowl of Ashe Stadium makes me think of staying late, or what we thought was late at the time—like past midnight—to watch Todd Martin come back to beat Greg Rusedski. A friend and I sat in the front row and chanted for Martin as he came back from two sets down. Why? Who knows—mostly because I wanted to see Rusedski blow it, to be honest. Afterward, after four or five Heinekens, I have a dim memory of high-fiving a few guys as I walked out of the men’s room. The buzz lasted through the long, wee-hour subway ride into Manhattan and back to Brooklyn.

***

What will I remember from 2010? It’s tough to tell. It just took me a second to remember whether I went to the qualifiers this time, or whether that was last year. By the second week of the Open, when the cold wind makes its appearance, the first humid, breezeless days can seem to come from a previous lifetime. Like I said, Open memories bubble up at random; there are too many of them to keep straight or even attach much importance to—after a while, it’s just one damn thing after another, one post after another, one emotionally exhausting five-set marathon after another, one perfect shot after another.

I'll start with something I hope I don’t remember: Stan Wawrinka’s player’s box—please let me block it out. Ditto for Donald Young’s unhappy first-round loss.

Here’s a tiny fraction of what I hope does stay in my mind:

—The pretty fierceness of a Pennetta/Dulko doubles match on the Grandstand.

—Fernando Verdasco’s fall to the court after his match-ending, side-winding forehand against Ferrer.

—The annoyance and restraint on Sam Querrey’s face when he was pummeled with questions about the state of U.S. tennis.

—Ditto for Andy Murray’s face when he was pummeled with questions about whether he’ll ever win a Slam. Murray was pale and exhausted and morose after his loss, and it only got worse in the press room. He finally snapped when he was asked, “Does this accelerate the need to get a coach?” Murray shook his head in disgust—you really see the players do that—and said something like, “After the last match that I won, I was asked whether I ever needed to get a coach. Now I need to get a coach right away?”

—Djokovic’s dad’s shirt. Djokovic’s shirt. Djokovic’s hat. Djokovic’s post-match interviews. All of it: gold.

—Francesca Schiavone snarling and snapping and hopping her way to a defeat at the hands of Venus Williams.

—Roger Federer in the tunnel before his quarterfinal, looking quietly pleased to get another crack at Robin Soderling.

—The last two sets of Nadal-Istomin, and the happy disbelief in Istomin’s box at the way he was playing.

—The victory salute of Mikhail Youzhny, whimsical warrior.

—Caroline Wozniacki letting out a scream of relief when she reached match point against Maria Sharapova. She knew then finally, that it was going to happen.

—The awesome and heartening sight of thousands of people waiting at the gates, eyes raised to the TV screen above, to enter Ashe Stadium for the night session. Tennis is an exotic circus; the international cast of players rolls into your town, and after a week or so it disappears for another year. For fans of the sport in New York, all of 2010 is packed into these two weeks. It’s an overdose of perfectly struck shots. It’s too bad you can’t fully appreciate them all.

For most of us, like I've said, it’s a lot to remember. But that's not true for everyone. One day last week I got to the site in the late afternoon. On the way in the gate, I passed two guys walking quickly in the other direction, toward the subway. They were quintessential New Yorkers, short guys in white sneakers and black T-shirts, moving fast and talking fast, with high-pitched Sopranos-esque accents.

“So whadja see?” one guy asked the other.

“Ahhh, nothin’ much.”
 
32
Comments 		 

Posted by robert 09/09/2010 at 08:40 PM

Great as usual!
Posted by josh herb 09/09/2010 at 08:53 PM

love it! excellent article...
Posted by Rhys 09/09/2010 at 09:16 PM

Nice as usual Steve! What WAS in wawrinka's box?
Posted by Lurker 09/09/2010 at 09:20 PM

Yeah, why Wawrinka's box?!
Posted by John 09/09/2010 at 10:02 PM

5th!
Posted by pogiako 09/09/2010 at 10:09 PM

It looked like Stan's box was filled with Ludgreen's friends. I do not think anyone of those is Stan's friend or family. Its not a kind of crowd a Swiss tennis player will associate. I feel the same way everytime that group was shown on tv. They are kind of loud for a player's guests in the box. Ludgren was Roger's coach earlier. He was given the pink slip after Roger's first wimbledon. I think Roger will not associate with Ludgren's friends. I am just assuming. Nothing is factual. I just said these because someone asked what is in Stan's box.
Posted by lollipop 09/09/2010 at 10:25 PM

"Djokovic’s dad’s shirt. Djokovic’s shirt. Djokovic’s hat. Djokovic’s post-match interviews. All of it: gold"

lol so true. though djokovic's dad's shirt is just down right creepy. heightened by the super-imposed falcon.

Posted by didi 09/09/2010 at 10:41 PM

Please help me understand why Brad Gilbert and John McEnroe are saying if Nadal wins the USO he will be the greatest ever. Doesn't Roger have more slams, more weeks at number one, reached the FO final many times and Rafa would make the USO for the first time. Total nonsense. I for one can't stand to watch the ugly style of play Nadal uses along with the butt picking. I really don't understand the logic that they say Nadal will be the GOAT. That is like saying Agassi is the GOAT over Samprass who won more slams and hd more weeks at number one than Agassi who did complete the GS on all surfaces.
BG and John McEnroe need to be more objective and show they like all tennis not just the ugly tennis of Nadal
Posted by Fust 09/09/2010 at 11:15 PM

You should do a post on Mad Men, it really is a great show.
Posted by Frances 09/09/2010 at 11:16 PM

Steve

I want to add another ending

"FORGEDABOWT!!!!!

Posted by Frances 09/09/2010 at 11:16 PM

vamos rafa!
Posted by Himself 09/09/2010 at 11:20 PM

"Another side court was the sight of the coldest match I ever watched: five sets between Tomas Berdych and Dmitry Tursunov, something like three years ago. Every ball was poleaxed; the sound of the racquets was frightening. Neither of these two blond Europeans showed the slightest hint of emotion, or even interest—not once. After three hours, the final was ball was smashed, they walked expressionlessly to the net, shook hands without a smile or a nod, and walked off."

Too funny!

Posted by Miles 09/09/2010 at 11:36 PM

well, I think the stars are lined up for Nadal
Youzhny probably will put up some resistance, but coupled with his injury, he won't give him any trouble
whoever go through the Djoko/Fed match will have less in the tank than Nadal
I don't think he's the GOAT yet, but to win the GrandSlam at such a young age is phenomenal
and he probably has at least 6 more slams in him.....so it will be close, but I think ultimately Roger's GS record will still stand after both of them retired....
Posted by AB 09/10/2010 at 12:04 AM

Steve: thanks for this one.

And you're *so* spot on - JJ does have a furry voice. That description was so vivid I could (unfortunately) hear her plaintive wail.
Posted by SRJ 09/10/2010 at 12:08 AM

Loved this! The writing seems casual yet is lyrical at the same time - Thanks Steve
Posted by reckoner 09/10/2010 at 12:50 AM


lol memorable to me: there was a really hot girl in the 2nd row of verdascos box (vs nadal)

Posted by to reckoner 09/10/2010 at 02:32 AM

that cute asian girl?! yeah!

Posted by adman 09/10/2010 at 03:39 AM

Ah i loved this article! Everytime I read your posts it gives me so many memories of my us opens...too bad i couldnt go this year. But everytime i read, i get the same energy thats right before a night match. It comes back to me everytime; goosebumps everytime.
Posted by tennisblog 09/10/2010 at 06:27 AM

i`ll tell you one thing...after nearly two weeks im sick of the phrase "at the open". there, i said it^^
Posted by Dave 09/10/2010 at 08:26 AM

I went four times this year, the most I've gone in a while. I remember wondering if I was going to burst into flames as I sat for 10 hours, courtside at the Grandstand last Tuesday watching 4 great matches and defending my (first come, first serve) seat with zeal. A week later, I was shivering with a jacket on in Ashe Stadium as Wawrinka and Youzny battled it out for a place in the semis. You're right, it seemed like a different tournament altogether. I love the energy of the first week. Although it's easier to move around in the later stages of the tournament, there's something about being able to walk around amongst thousands of tennis fans, watch some of the best players in the world from up close, and start a conversation with any random person about Schiavone, or Berdych, or Petrova without getting funny looks. I always miss it when it's gone. Come on 2011.

Posted by Mark in VT 09/10/2010 at 08:37 AM

I, too, couldn't figure out who those guys in Stan's box were, then it struck me: Spinal Tap impersonators.
Posted by pschwarztennis 09/10/2010 at 09:44 AM

"Donald Young Questions Being Left Off Davis Cup Team" ... sad but conclusive proof that Donald Duck needs to break out of his bubble and come live in the same tennis reality as everyone else. Really, you have to chuckle ...
Posted by petewho 09/10/2010 at 10:32 AM

" The lower bowl of Ashe Stadium makes me think of staying late, or what we thought was late at the time—like past midnight—to watch Todd Martin come back to beat Greg Rusedski. A friend and I sat in the front row and chanted for Martin as he came back from two sets down. Why? Who knows—mostly because I wanted to see Rusedski blow it, to be honest. "

HAHA I see your a Greg lover too Steve :)

DOES any one like this man ???
Posted by petewho 09/10/2010 at 10:39 AM

Oh Steve, you really need to tune into Sky Sports ( or catch it on ustream ) sometime to see him and Miss milf Crawford sitting there .

I dont know what the hells going , but Rudeski is WORSE than ever now hes there tennis anchorman / anaylst - if you see him at the Open be sure to flip him birdy .

UGH
Posted by petewho 09/10/2010 at 10:40 AM

I think it was Jerry Garcias Ghost and Iggy pop , Im pretty sure thats who I saw.
Posted by Vie 09/10/2010 at 11:02 AM

Ya, Tursunov strikes me same way as you Steve.
Posted by Gerry 09/10/2010 at 11:50 AM

What a great post. I remember in college getting tickets to the '80 final from a friend whose sister worked for CBS. The seat was pretty high in Armstrong, but still a good view. The McEnroe-Borg match of course went pretty late and I was worried about classes starting the next day, but was determined to stay til the end. One of my friends was a ball "kid" for the match and we ended up going back to New Haven on the train together after midnight. The Open always bridges summer and fall so precisely in terms of weather and school, fun and responsibility. By the end, it always seems like the start of the tournament was months ago.
Posted by BrooklynNY 09/10/2010 at 12:05 PM

One thing that stood out to me.... "They were quintessential New Yorkers, short guys in white sneakers and black T-shirts, moving fast and talking fast, with high-pitched Sopranos-esque accents. "


Yeah Steve, and the quintessential Muslim is a terrorist.

Good one. Do you know that some people who read your material live in NYC?

Posted by Sherlock 09/10/2010 at 02:27 PM

Great stuff, Steve. As always, thanks for putting us right there.

Gerry, great post, yourself. :) Sounds like some awesome memories there.
Posted by reckoner 09/10/2010 at 05:37 PM


was it michael moore in waw's box ? or maybe ben or jerry-- whichever one is greasier
Posted by adicecream 09/10/2010 at 08:14 PM

This year's fond memories for me:

Ryan Harrison and Melanie Oudin playing mixed doubles and girls drooling over Ryan.

Arriving a few minutes late for the start of one of Wozniacki's matches and finding the score 6-0, 5-0 already.

Bradley Klahn giving Querry a slight scare.

Seeing JB for what I hope will not be the last time.

Hours in grandstand shade seats watching home town girl Beatrice Capra beat Rezai.

And for the second year in a row, chatting with the 2008 winner of the USTA 95s! He is looking good.
Posted by Kris 09/12/2010 at 04:26 PM

I was in person for the first Wednesday so a few of my memories are from that experience:

There was a group of locals of Jamaican descent who came for Venus Williams' match. When they found out about them having a player from their country in the draw in Dustin Brown, they were so excited. Between that and Dustin's natural charisma, it was this raw joy that is rare. Two days later, you could feel that same thing in Arthur Ashe when he was staying with Murray.

The anticipation to see the marathon man John Isner play in, I think, Armstrong. Many casual fans then gasped upon realizing how big John really is.

I was in the crowd at the end of Ryan Harrison's win. If that becomes the first of many for the young man, it would be great to say I was there.

From Other Days:

Mama Djokovic jumping into Papa's arms when Novak beat Roger. Along with the other stuff mentioned about Novak.

The match between Dementieva and Stosur that ended around 1:30am. That was the best ladies' match I've seen in a long time.

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