US Open
The 2005 US Open at Flushing Meadows, New York ended last weekend.
People everywhere regardless of changes brought on by career, family, travel or all-round personal turbulence, have certain anchors that ground them. These may include career, family, religion, relationships, hobbies, pets etc. One of my consistent anchors over the last several years has been the final Grand Slam tournament of the world professional tennis tour.
My earliest memory of professional tennis was when I was with my family visiting an aunt in upstate NY. It was the first time I’d ever visited the US. I remember being glued to the TV screen as I watched Jimmy Connors brashly demolish a helpless Ken Rosewall 6-1 6-1 6-4 in the 1974 Wimbledon Final. Connors seemed uncharacteristically out-of-place, this mop-headed grunter with no visible respect for the courtly air surrounding Center Court, the posh almost artificial greenness of everything, the white hats on the dukes and duchesses. Connors ended up being my favorite tennis player over the years even though he was a frustrating player to support, succumbing to many a foe as a result of hand-wringing unforced errors off his flat forehand. Borg, McEnroe and Lendl seemed to have his number as time went on though when he did defeat them in big matches, the memory was etched forever.
It was thus only fitting that the first ever US Open I attended in person was in 1991. I was at a first-round night match – my first ever Grand Slam match attended in person between two players I don’t remember when midway through, an announcement came through the PA system that they were releasing a limited number of tickets for the next night’s play featuring Jimmy Connors. I dashed out the stadium and returned shortly after with tickets. My tennis lackey buddy, Martin, in attendance that 1st night would also join me for Jimmy. It was a Tuesday evening and Jimmy quickly went down 2 sets to love and 1-4 in the 3rd to Patrick McEnroe. The stadium practically cleared out and Martin and I eased down to near court level to witness what had to be the last few games. Remarkably, Jimmy clawed his way back from the brink and at almost 2am in the morning, won the match to the absolute delirium of a disbelieving crowd. At the time, I was recovering from shoulder surgery and my arm was in a sling. When Jimmy won the last point, I was so overcome I raised my arms in a reflexive burst of ecstacy, temporarily forgetting my frailty and immediately was brought to my knees in agony, laughing and whimpering simultaneously. My favorite player had completed an incredible comeback at age 39. And this was just a 1st round match. I would return to the stadium to witness another dramatic match. Labor Day weekend, the stadium was packed as Connors, the living legend was playing for a quarterfinal berth on Sep 2, his birthday and the eve of mine. In a seesaw battle Connors, behind the entire match forced a 5th set though fell behind rapidly 2-5. Again, he fought back and won the match in a tiebreak and this time, both my friend Marcia and I could barely contain our tears of incredulous joy. Connors became the oldest Grand Slam semifinalist ever since Ken Rosewall in 1974.
After 1991, I moved to NY and religiously attended the US Open every year that I lived there. Even when I was on sabbatical, I'd try and schedule my walkabouts around the Open. I played once on the courts there with my friend, Kathy who had a wicked backhand for her diminutive frame. One of my best friends, Lester, was a marketing executive for Heineken, the US Open’s biggest sponsor at the time. He was involved on the tennis end of things too and for several years on end, I would receive a birthday present envelope filled with dozens of prized US Open tickets. They were frequently 2nd-week tickets and almost always in premium seats. I felt like a sugar daddy, doling out invitations to my favored friends who all came to know of Lester even though few met him. I have countless memories of the weeks I “camped out” (as one friend affectionately put it) at the Open.
I left NY in 2000. Since then, wherever I am in the world, those two weeks in Aug/Sep will find me trying to carve out time for the tournament. 2001 I labored to find friends with satellite TV in Zambia where I could watch matches, often with my equally-avid tennis fan friend, Yiannis. 2002 I caught matches in sports bars as I made my way through New Zealand. 2003 I watched from San Diego. 2004 I managed to maneuver my Los Angeles-based job into a business trip back to NY, armed with tickets from work & Lester. This year I fulfilled my quota with early-round coverage off German satellite TV in Ibiza. It was also the first time I “listened” to the Final on Internet Radio, unable to locate a telecast anywhere in Cairo. 2006 will be the 15th anniversary of my love affair with the US Open. What awaits?
People everywhere regardless of changes brought on by career, family, travel or all-round personal turbulence, have certain anchors that ground them. These may include career, family, religion, relationships, hobbies, pets etc. One of my consistent anchors over the last several years has been the final Grand Slam tournament of the world professional tennis tour.
My earliest memory of professional tennis was when I was with my family visiting an aunt in upstate NY. It was the first time I’d ever visited the US. I remember being glued to the TV screen as I watched Jimmy Connors brashly demolish a helpless Ken Rosewall 6-1 6-1 6-4 in the 1974 Wimbledon Final. Connors seemed uncharacteristically out-of-place, this mop-headed grunter with no visible respect for the courtly air surrounding Center Court, the posh almost artificial greenness of everything, the white hats on the dukes and duchesses. Connors ended up being my favorite tennis player over the years even though he was a frustrating player to support, succumbing to many a foe as a result of hand-wringing unforced errors off his flat forehand. Borg, McEnroe and Lendl seemed to have his number as time went on though when he did defeat them in big matches, the memory was etched forever.
It was thus only fitting that the first ever US Open I attended in person was in 1991. I was at a first-round night match – my first ever Grand Slam match attended in person between two players I don’t remember when midway through, an announcement came through the PA system that they were releasing a limited number of tickets for the next night’s play featuring Jimmy Connors. I dashed out the stadium and returned shortly after with tickets. My tennis lackey buddy, Martin, in attendance that 1st night would also join me for Jimmy. It was a Tuesday evening and Jimmy quickly went down 2 sets to love and 1-4 in the 3rd to Patrick McEnroe. The stadium practically cleared out and Martin and I eased down to near court level to witness what had to be the last few games. Remarkably, Jimmy clawed his way back from the brink and at almost 2am in the morning, won the match to the absolute delirium of a disbelieving crowd. At the time, I was recovering from shoulder surgery and my arm was in a sling. When Jimmy won the last point, I was so overcome I raised my arms in a reflexive burst of ecstacy, temporarily forgetting my frailty and immediately was brought to my knees in agony, laughing and whimpering simultaneously. My favorite player had completed an incredible comeback at age 39. And this was just a 1st round match. I would return to the stadium to witness another dramatic match. Labor Day weekend, the stadium was packed as Connors, the living legend was playing for a quarterfinal berth on Sep 2, his birthday and the eve of mine. In a seesaw battle Connors, behind the entire match forced a 5th set though fell behind rapidly 2-5. Again, he fought back and won the match in a tiebreak and this time, both my friend Marcia and I could barely contain our tears of incredulous joy. Connors became the oldest Grand Slam semifinalist ever since Ken Rosewall in 1974.
After 1991, I moved to NY and religiously attended the US Open every year that I lived there. Even when I was on sabbatical, I'd try and schedule my walkabouts around the Open. I played once on the courts there with my friend, Kathy who had a wicked backhand for her diminutive frame. One of my best friends, Lester, was a marketing executive for Heineken, the US Open’s biggest sponsor at the time. He was involved on the tennis end of things too and for several years on end, I would receive a birthday present envelope filled with dozens of prized US Open tickets. They were frequently 2nd-week tickets and almost always in premium seats. I felt like a sugar daddy, doling out invitations to my favored friends who all came to know of Lester even though few met him. I have countless memories of the weeks I “camped out” (as one friend affectionately put it) at the Open.
I left NY in 2000. Since then, wherever I am in the world, those two weeks in Aug/Sep will find me trying to carve out time for the tournament. 2001 I labored to find friends with satellite TV in Zambia where I could watch matches, often with my equally-avid tennis fan friend, Yiannis. 2002 I caught matches in sports bars as I made my way through New Zealand. 2003 I watched from San Diego. 2004 I managed to maneuver my Los Angeles-based job into a business trip back to NY, armed with tickets from work & Lester. This year I fulfilled my quota with early-round coverage off German satellite TV in Ibiza. It was also the first time I “listened” to the Final on Internet Radio, unable to locate a telecast anywhere in Cairo. 2006 will be the 15th anniversary of my love affair with the US Open. What awaits?
posted by jngah @ 9:23 PM
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