The Beginning of a Long Journey

Written by: Staff on 27th August 2010

The Beginning of a Long Journey

Juan Martin del Potro and Roger Federer come to the net after their 2009 US Open Mens Championship match in Arthur Ashe Stadium at the Billie Jean King USTA Tennis Center in Flushing, New York on September 14, 2009. Juan Martin del Potro upsets Roger Federer in five sets by the score of 3-6, 7-6, 4-6, 7-6, 6-2 to win the 2009 US Open Mens Championship. |

Ah, the US Open – how we have missed it. Proudly billing itself as the biggest and the best, it is supposed to be New York encapsulated in a tennis tournament. And for once, the marketing men have got it spot on: the Open is New York through and through – if you can survive the Open, you can survive New York.

Each day begins with the morning crawl through the Manhattan traffic, a journey not helped by the officious souls in high visibility vests and white gloves who wave their arms about randomly in the middle of the gridlock. Just when a six-inch space becomes available, the hi-viz vest blows a whistle and carefully ushers an articulated truck into the gap, so creating a terminal block in the intersection. Those with years of experience of this morning mayhem board the bus with coffee, breakfast, a change of clothes and a weary look. And they are just the players.

Should we escape the chaos and make it through the Midtown Tunnel, we have the joys of the Van Wyck Expressway to look forward to. This highway is packed with drivers who regard commuting as a blood sport and, throwing down the gauntlet to our trusty bus driver, they bring a new and heightened sense of excitement to the start of the day.

If we live to see Flushing Meadows, we have the men with clipboards and scanners to negotiate. Passing through any door at the vast tennis center requires the scanning of an accreditation pass (and if the scanner if broken – a regular occurrence – the pass holder is left outside, even if he is Roger Federer) while going through any gate involves a bag check. “What’s that in your bag, ma’am?” “A laptop” “You can’t bring that in here” “I’m media – I can bring it in to the complex” “No ma’am, you can’t. It’s against the regulations…” and, eventually, after 10 minutes of arguing (a truly fabulous experience when it is raining), the bloke with the clipboard lets you in and the day can begin.

We will not even touch on the food in the media dining area (the UN is still undecided as to whether it qualifies as a crime against culinary humanity) or the lack of a press box in the Arthur Ashe Stadium. It is best not to intrude on the press pack’s private grief.

But if you can deal with these frustrations and hindrances and refrain from belting the bloke with the clipboard, yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, and – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son! Or rather, you will join that elite and crack team of players, workers, reporters and TV types who emerge from two weeks of the US Open battered but not broken; you will become one of us.

In spite of – and not because of – the organisation of the Open, the tennis if often not half bad. This year, my little country has a real contender in the shape of Andy Murray, Switzerland is hoping against hope that Rodge can put the brakes on his grand slam decline and win his sixth title in New York and the lovely Rafa is trying to complete his career grand slam and win his first US Open trophy.

Thankfully, the good people at Nike have seen sense. After making both Rodge and Raf wear pink throughout the summer hardcourt season, they have thought again in time for the last grand slam of the season.

Now, it takes a very special sort of chap to wear pink – and wear it loud and wear it proud – but when the ATP’s own website described Rodge as “The Pink Predator”, you had to wonder. History does not record what Mr Federer, the proud father of twin girls – or, indeed, Mrs Federer, the proud wife of Rodge and mother of his twin girls – thought of this moniker when it was first used in Toronto, but the rest of the world looked on askance. Nike, in the nick of time, have now put him in pale blue for day wear and royal blue for night sessions in Flushing Meadows. And, as my mother always says, a boy is always safe in blue.

Rafa has not escaped quite as cleanly – he gets to wear black and lime green but, hey, it ain’t luminous pink so he is one up on the deal so far.

The Open is very proud of the changes and improvements it has made this year (and we will go into some of them in greater detail as the first week progresses), and the story of Blake Strode was a cracker. Mr Strode was the winner of the inaugural US Open National Playoffs, a new scheme to make the US Open very open indeed, and he arrived in Queens as a groundbreaker.

The playoffs are open to anyone in the United States over the age of 14 who is in possession of a clean pair of shorts and racquet and, should he or she emerge victorious at the end of the competition, they can earn themselves a wild card into the qualifying competition. Strode duly beat everyone in sight and, claiming his ticket to the hurly-burly of quallies, went on to beat Alex Bogdanovic in the opening round. And that is where the innovation ran aground.

Strode was not the first man to add the name of Bogdanovic to his list of career wins and nor will he be the last.

Bogdanovic – or Boggo to his friends – has made a career out of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. As Britain’s second best player (by some considerable margin), he has been quite spectacularly consistent in failing to make the most of his talents or his chances. So when he ran away with the first set against our play-off champion, the Brits looked a little cynical. Boggo winning? Nah, it’ll never catch on. Sure enough, it didn’t and Boggo retired with a back injury in the second set. Strode, though, lives to fight another day and whatever happens in the coming days, he is a grand story.

But this is, as they said 70 years ago, the phoney war. Everything kicks off on Monday and the anticipation and excitement is mounting. This is New York at its best and, provided you can actually get to Flushing Meadows in one piece and can cope with what happens once you get there, it should be a belter.

Topics: Bloke, Blood Sport, Board The Bus, Bus Driver, Clipboards, Coffee Breakfast, Fabulous Experience, Gap, Gridlock, High Visibility, Inch Space, Long Journey, Midtown Tunnel, Roger Federer, Tennis Center, Tennis Tournament, Terminal Block, Throwing Down The Gauntlet, Van Wyck Expressway, Visibility Vests

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