The 7 train coming out of Penn Station has an absence this year. Normally, I’d sit in the blue seat next to the door where I could smell the urine and get a good view of the subway rats as we spent an hour passing through the dark tunnels on our way into Queens. There’d always be a homeless fella with a drab brown overcoat who spoke in religious verse and tugged at his beard as though mimicking Freud. Next to me, there’d be hordes of people dressed in Nike t-shirts and sporting some form of tennis attire to hide their untanned ankles. We’d converse about how many times they’d attended the Open, and then follow up with questions about this year’s favorites before wishing each other an Aussie “Goodonya!” or a Spanish “Vamos!” depending on where they ventured in from. Afterwards, I’d press through the mid-summer’s sweaty bodies and make my way onto the wooden walkway that leads into the grounds at Flushing Meadows. With ambitious faces, small children would tote too-big tennis balls onto the grounds in search of autographs so they could brag to their friends. This year, though, I didn’t make it.
Instead, I am sitting at home, pressing my iPhone button on three different tennis scoring apps and trying to figure out why an American male tennis player has not won the US OPEN since the Roddick kid flung his golden arm skyward. Some people “in the know” suggest it’s because tennis no longer attracts the nation’s best athletes. Recently, decathlete gold medalist Ashton Eaton commented, “I personally believe tennis is the next most athletic sport. Just because of certain things required. Those matches are three or four hours long. There’s the technical aspect, the agility, the mind-body awareness. Not to mention the game itself is a little bit like a chess match.” Some surmise the sport is too costly to pursue, while others contend the coaching certifications in America are not intensive enough to create a coaching community which can lead all players to the font of professionalism. Frankly, I am not certain whether all or none of these arguments have merit. To date, while we’ve had millions make the effort, no one has created a recipe for developing a champion. What I do know, however, is that it’s day one and four Americans are already out of the tournament. A few of them are names you’re starting to hear more frequently around the ATP tour – think Tiafoe and Fritz. The States still have plenty of players in the draw though, including Stevie Johnson, Big Man Isner, and the No-longer-missing-Sock, so perhaps there is hope for a second week appearance by someone with a US address.
Until then though, I’ll be sitting on my couch, wrist-deep into a bag of pretzels, flipping through my scoring apps and iPad feeds in hopes of finding someone to cheer for. And if by some miracle an American male makes the final, I’ll throw down the credit card, deal with the near-proctological TSA agents, land at LA Guardia, make my way to my hard plastic blue seat, traverse the wooden bridge, buy a bag of pretzels, and join 25,ooo fans inside Ashe stadium to witness a moment in tennis history. The way this country has been going, we need one!
Topics: 10sballs.com, 2016 US Open, American Tennis, Craig Cignarelli, Flushing Meadows, Tennis, US Open tennis