Up Close at the US Open

The missus and I spent a good chunk of our Saturday at the US Open Tennis Tournament. With a Grounds Admissions pass, you can wander from court-to-court (except at Arthur Ashe Stadium, where the popular kids play) and watch as many matches as your heart desires.

As I may have mentioned, the missus has become quite the fan of Andy Murray, her fellow Scotsman, and next tennis hope for a UK victory at Wimbledon. He is but 20 years old, and his ranking is currently #19. Andy was scheduled to play match #4 in the Grandstand.

When the gates open for the day at the Billie Jean King USTA Tennis Center, a mad rush occurs. Grown men and women sprinting in their Fila and Ralph Lauren outfits to the various courts to get prime seats for the matches of their choice, in spite of the staff people shouting, "Do not run!"

I was wearing flip-flops, but the missus, who had already spent a day at the US Open and knew what to expect, had on her trainers. We had a plan. Look for her in section 15 of the Grandstand. The gates open and off she went.

Pre-teens handing out free samples of Polo cologne cleared the fuck out of the way of the sprinting adults.

The missus survived several preppie elbows to get what must have been the best seats in the Grandstand. And even though our tickets allowed us to wander at will, we opted to stay put. Once you get seats like these, you don't move.

Preppie vultures waited to pounce on our seats, anytime one of us went for food or bathroom visits.

Hats off to the missus, who decided that she liked me better than famed tennis coach Brad Gilbert (currently offering his expertise to the Great Scottish Hope Andy Murray), and rejected his kind request to sit next to her for Andy's upcoming match. Brad Gilbert. Crafty bastard using his coaching as an excuse to horn in on my wife. Nice try, buster. Here's Brad Gilbert (in the white cap), having failed to seduce my wife.


We saw some great tennis. Nadia Petrova, current #7 seed, was upset by a Hungarian teen called Agnes. I can't remember her last name, but Hungarians were chanting, "Aggie! Aggie! Aggie!" throughout. She looked pretty good, this Agnes.


And a woman who must've been Nadia Petrova's coach scared the living daylights out of us, when she suddenly hunkered down in the aisle next to me and muttered advice in Russian to Nadia during the match. This is, officially, against the rules, and one of the lines judges gave her a glare that would've melted a human. This woman was not human. She was way too intense to be human. Still, she couldn't scare Nadia into winning.


We also saw a five-set nail-biter between #10 Tommy Haas and Frenchman Sebastian Grosjean. Haas was ultimately victorious. But we were really impressed with the sportsmanship of both these guys. Both conceded points to the other when they thought the lines judge and umpire blew calls to the other's detriment. They applauded each other's nice shots. It was the kind of match that reminds you why John McEnroe was so shocking when he played.

We were also so close, we could see that Tommy had, at some point, arthroscopic knee surgery. But I didn't get a picture. Instead, here's a totally mediocre picture of Grosjean, about to wipe the sweat off his face within a couple feet of us.



We saw another women's upset after that: #11 Patty Schnyder lost to Another Woman I've Never Heard Of. That woman could hit like hell, but might be a bit of a head case. She kept looking to her father for approval. He rarely gave it. Except when she won.

We had evening plans we were already late for by the time Andy Murray came out for his match. So we watched him lose the first set (of a match he ultimately lost) to a Korean player called Lee. Lee really had the vociferous support, as the Asians just cheer differently than the preppie Americans.

Murray's a bit of a head case, too, methinks. He called himself a fuckwit under his breath a few times after blown shots. And he always seemed to be thinking of the previous bad shot, blown call, poor service instead of concentrating on the current point. Ah, well, he's just a kid. Give him time.


I also caught a ball in the stands during the Haas/Grosjean match. I waited for them to ask for it back, but then the umpire announced it was time for a ball change. We gave the ball to our friend's girlfriend, whom we'd never met and who prepared this delicious meal we arrived nearly two hours late for. It was only fair.