US Open Diary: The allure of Room One
Fernando Leon /
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We'll be bringing you all the sights, sounds and colours from the 132nd US Open being held at Flushing Meadows in New York.
Abhishek Mehrotra in New York
Friday (Aug 31, 2012)
You know you've made it as a player when the US Tennis Association deigns to hold your press conference in Interview Room One.
There are six media interview and press conference rooms in the depths of Arthur Ashe stadium. Rooms two and three are well, exactly that - standard sized rooms capable of holding no more than 10 journalists at any given time.
Rooms 4-6 are basically mini-booths, added as an after-thought last year, in one corner of the massive media center here. This is where your lesser known Eastern Europeans, South Americans and Indians come for their press conferences - only they are not conferences, more like pub table get-togethers minus the alcohol.
And Room One - well, there's way all the action's at. I overheard one journalist say it's the biggest sports press conference room in the world. Citation needed, of course.
Nonetheless, it's an impressive set-up, capable of seating more than a 100 journalists at one time. Portraits of American greats Chris Evert, John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors line one wall. There's a long bank of cameras located right at the back and the acoustics are spectacular.
Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray - all the biggest names fulfill their media obligations here. And after beating a Grand Slam champion for the secon successive round, Brit Laura Robson held fort in number one. After a couple of years of "Will she?" "Won't she?" - the Brit finally seems to have arrived on the stage. At least the USTA certainly thinks so.
Room One also played host to two of the biggest stories from this year's Open - the departures of Kim Clijsters and Andy Roddick.
The room was jam-packed for both - with reporters crammed all the way to the stairs leading down to the exit. Camermen tried desperately to squeeze and sometimes sneak in without the knowledge of the officials in attendance. Kind of difficult to do when you have a 5-foot lens to manouever into position. Both press conferences ended with applause as two champions bowed out.
Big arrivals, bigger departures - it all happens in Room One.
Thursday (Aug 30, 2012)
I decided to extend my sojourns to the outer reaches of the Billie Jean King Tennis Centre and chanced upon the US Open bookstore on Thursday.
The bookstore is housed in a small room tucked away near one of the exits from the complex, and barely deserves to be called one, "boasts" as it does of 60, perhaps 70 books.
But the thing that strikes me the most is the number of books on tennis training. I count 32 of them while the cashier gives me a "Oh my God, he's crazy" stare.
There are books on improving your groundstrokes, mental conditioning, tips on how to play the game if you're into your 50s and one on wheelchair tennis training. Americans take their tennis very seriously.
Despite the paucity of non "how to" books, I end up buying one - Stephen Tignor's McEnroe, Borg and the Untold Story of Tennis's Fiercest Rivalry. Hope it turns out to be a page-turner.
At the other end of the store is a photo gallery - dedicated to the man after whom the biggest tennis stadium in the world is named - Arthur Ashe. It's a series of blown-up photos from the 1960s, of Ashe riding a motorbike, Ashe in a car, Ashe waiting for his laundry (funnily enough, I could just make out the operating instructions on the machine - and they seemed to be in English as well as what looked like Chinese characters. Was China already a manufacturing powerhouse by then?).
I'm not sure if the photos were actually shot by a photographer or if they were gifted to the USTA by Ashe's family. I'll check with the cashier tomorrow, assuming she doesn't run away from me screaming in terror. If it does turn out that they were taken by a photographer, I'll turn green with envy on the spot. That level of access to any top tennis player now is absolutely unimaginable.
We may be living in the golden age of men's tennis now, but the golden age of tennis journalism passed us by a long time ago.
Wednesday (Aug 29, 2012)
One of the toughest things, for me, about covering the US Open so far, has been deciding which matches to focus on. when there are about 10-11 singles matches going on at any given time.
I could focus on the big names of course, but they tend to steamroll opposition in the opening few rounds, and reading too much into their form so early on is foolish. At the same time, upsets do happen - and those journalists who were covering other matches, interviewing, eating or were otherwise occupied when Lukas Rosol upset Rafael Nadal at Wimbledon earlier this year probably got an earful from their editors.
Nonetheless, I charted a plan of action that avoided all the big names - focusing instead on Tommy Haas who was playing Ernests Gulbis on Court 17, Xavier Malisse who was playing John Isner on Arthur Ashe and Lleyton Hewitt who was playing Tobias Kamke on Court 13. The common thread? Haas, Malisse and Hewitt are all into their 30s - are unlikely to seriously contend for a Grand Slam, but continue to toil on manfully.
All three matches were on at the same time - which meant some serious shuttling between courts. Court 17 was packed with a vociferous crowd egging on Haas, the 34-year-old who first played at the Open in 1996. Having battled serious injury for most of his career, the German had enjoyed a spectacular renaissance this year and was seeded 21 for the tournament.
It's close, but Haas gets the crucial breaks in each of the first two sets to put himself in command. "This one's finished," I think to myself and head to Ashe for a peek at Malisse - the 32-year-old playing top American seed John Isner. The Belgian is already two sets to love down. At one point in the third set, he challenges an Isner shot that was called in. It's well out.
Malisse remonstrates with the chair umpire, the crowd boos and Malisse flicks his racket towards them in a dismissive gesture. Next point. Isner serve an ace. Malisse challenges again. It's out again. By about a foot. This time the crowd applaud. The Belgian gets it together to win the third set, and I leave - Hewitt's match is about to finish.
The 2001 champ, is all the way out in Court 13 - and the bleachers, the American name for the tiered seats that line the outer courts, are packed. Even as I approach them, I hear the familiar roar of "Come on!" Hewitt in full flow. The Australian has fought back from a set down, and is now on the brink of victory. The crowd is exultant. They love the fighting Aussie. Within minutes, it's over.
In the meantime, Haas has dropped the next two sets against Gulbis. It's all even and there isn't space for an ant inside Court 17. I hang around the court, hoping to squeeze in. No go. In the meantime, Malisse has lost the fourt set and match against Isner. I hurry over to the press conference.
It's in a small room deep inside Arthur Ashe stadium and the Belgian fumes over the umpiring, first in French, then in English. Conference over - I head back over to Court 17. Haas has lost in five sets. Time to eat.
After the late lunch, I glance up at one of the giant scoreboards. Kim Clijsters is down a set and is involved in a second-set tie-break against young Brit Laura Robson. It's back to Ashe for me, but by the time I get back in and up to the third level - it's all over. Clijsters has lost, and with it, has played her final competitve singles match. I missed it.
Just another day at the office.
Tuesday (August 28, 2012)
So the day that was supposed to be stormy and thundery turned out to be sweaty and sticky. No matter - at least the crowd that thronged the compound got their money's worth.
The most impressive aspect of the US Open so far has been the amount of access the crowds have to the players. That doesn't mean fans can sit down for a quiet cup of coffee with them, of course, but the proximity itself is something that is difficult to imagine at other tournaments.
On the five practice courts located right at the entrance to the complex, I have sighted Serena Williams, John Isner, Fernando Verdasco amongst a host of other lesser lights in the first two days. And on the other side of the latticed net are the fans - hundreds of them crammed into a narrow lane, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourites.
The stars obviously prefer the farthest practice, but once finished, they have to walk back past the gathered crowds, and out come the giant tennis balls, and the caps and the t-shirts and squeaky kids' voices. Some are obliging, some not.
One kid got the chance of a lifetime, when, while watching the open practice inside one of the showcourts, he was actually invited down for a few hits by Novak Djokovic. The reason? He'd shouted from the stands "Will you marry me?"
There is little wonder Nole, in addition to being one of the best players in the world, is also one of the most loved. It's only because most fans had already chosen either Nadal or Federer by the time he came along that the Serb is not even more adulated.
Back to the tournament though, and a sense of informality, very different from the other Slams, flows through the entire complex. There's the music, the whack of ball on racket from inside Arthur Ashe is transmitted outside the stadium through speakers mounted on trees and poles and you can hear the roars of the crowd applauding a great point or a victor they were rooting for.
Inside the showcourts, people are encouraged to dance on the aisles to the blaring music if they want to be put up on the giant screen. Hailing from a part of the world where people tend to be reticent, it's a surprise how many are willing to just get up and start letting their hard down right in front of tens of thousands of people. And at the end of every match, the victors signs three balls and hits them into the crowd, in what has become one of the most popular traditions of the tournament.
The US Open wants the visitors to not just witness the event, but to actually be part of it. Based on what I've seen so far, they've certainly succeeded in doing that. Spectacularly so - for such is the popularity of the Open, as it's called here, that you get people who've never followed tennis coming in just to be a part of the carnival atmosphere.
On Monday night, I sat next to a young couple during the Federer-Young match - the guy clearly a massive Federer fan, the girl clearly not a fan of the game. "So tell me what Federer has done so far?" she asked. The guy looked at her in disbelief for a couple of seconds before launching into a long speech detailing all of the Swiss' exploits.
On Tuesday during Djokovic-Lorenzi, another couple walked into the row just behind me, and the first question the woman asked was," Which one is Djokovic?"
Monday (August 27, 2012)
If you've ever wondered what journalists do during rain delays at major tournaments, the answer is: they eat. The first few days of a Grand Slam are manic, and you're running around all over the place - attending matches, sitting in on press conferences, trying to set up interviews, all the while hoping the match you opted not to go for doesn't turn out to be the tournament's biggest upset.
For those who're not familiar with the huge grounds of the Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre, navigating the way from one venue to another can be quite a task.
With all this going on, where is the time to eat? So - when a rain break comes, hundreds of writers, broadcasters, presenters, cameramen descend onto the media dining centre, shovelling in as much nutrition as they can before the rain stops. Those who are crowded out of the dining area check the weather - incessantly. On my way to, uhm, eat, I saw that almost every single individual had the New York weather forecast open.
Some time later, there's an exchange of roles. Those who were eating now check the weather, while those who were doing so earlier, hurry over to get some food.
On Monday, I had just reached the Arthur Ashe media seating area for the Andy Murray-Alex Bogomolov Jr. match when it began to drizzle and within seconds, to pour. I was drenched in the time it took me to pack my bag and head for some shelter about 10 feet away. A US Tennis Association official coming from the other side was soaked as well, and after we grinned at each other's state of disrepair he said rather sagely, "It's all because of Isaac".
I was completely confused for a few seconds, wondering who Isaac was and what he had to do with the rain when I realised he was referring to the tropical storm heading towards the US coast.
More thundershowers are forecast for Tuesday - which might mean another late finish. But at least there'll be time to eat.
Sunday (August 26, 2012)
It has only been a few hours since I arrived here, and New York has already thrown up its fair share of surprises. In fact, they began even before I landed.
Maybe I'm biased for obvious reasons, but what struck me the most as we began our rather leisurely descent into John F. Kennedy airport was the number of number of sports stadia that dotted the city. American football pitches, baseball grounds, basketball, tennis courts - you name it. More surprising was the presence of a couple of soccer (hey, when in Rome, do as the Romans do...) pitches, since the global game isn't exactly front page material here.
But the most stunning sight was the sight of a ravishingly green cricket field replete with white-clad players and an avuncular umpire, although the latter might just have been my imagination - I was still about 20,000 feet in the air and barely functioning as a competent human being after nearly 24 hours without sleep. Nonetheless, there is no doubt that a full-fledged match of cricket was being played in a country that has proved famously resistant to the charms of the English game.
The other startling thing about the city, at least from up in the air, was how orderly everything looked. If you use Hollywood as a guide, and I did, New York is supposed to be in a constant state of chaos - with either giant reptiles, washed-out Cold War-era Russian spies or global warming out to destroy it.
You'd expect to see nothing but absolute, utter bedlam. All I observed was buildings and streets as far as the eye could see, all neatly arranged in grids or concentric semi-circles with the massive splash of welcoming green that is Central Park adding to the sense of serenity. That didn't last long, of course.
Trying to take a cab from Madison Square Garden back to my hotel later, I stood around a cluster of people, naturally assuming (I've been living in Singapore for a long time now) that they would soon unravel themselves into a polite queue. No such luck. I was a mere bystander as they whizzed past me as if shot out of a cannon.
It was only after "losing" about five cabs out of sheer shock that I gathered myself together - using the hefty backpack on my back as an oscillating weapon to clear the crowd and spring into one myself. New York? Calm? Hah!
As far as the US Open goes, someone here told me the subways had been plastered with Rafael Nadal's images before the Spaniard pulled out of the tournament due to a knee problem. And I ended the day by watching last year's final between Nadal and Djokovic. He may have lost, but there is no doubt Nadal's all-action, machismo filled style electrifies the crowd like few other players. He will be hugely missed here.
But there are a lot of other things to look forward to - Kim Clijsters' final Slam appearance, Roger Federer's quest for number 18 - the maestro starts against Donald Young on Monday - Andy Murray's quest for number one and Novak Djokovic's attempt to recapture the magic from last season.
Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
Friday (Aug 31, 2012)
You know you've made it as a player when the US Tennis Association deigns to hold your press conference in Interview Room One.
There are six media interview and press conference rooms in the depths of Arthur Ashe stadium. Rooms two and three are well, exactly that - standard sized rooms capable of holding no more than 10 journalists at any given time.
Rooms 4-6 are basically mini-booths, added as an after-thought last year, in one corner of the massive media center here. This is where your lesser known Eastern Europeans, South Americans and Indians come for their press conferences - only they are not conferences, more like pub table get-togethers minus the alcohol.
And Room One - well, there's way all the action's at. I overheard one journalist say it's the biggest sports press conference room in the world. Citation needed, of course.
Nonetheless, it's an impressive set-up, capable of seating more than a 100 journalists at one time. Portraits of American greats Chris Evert, John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors line one wall. There's a long bank of cameras located right at the back and the acoustics are spectacular.
Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray - all the biggest names fulfill their media obligations here. And after beating a Grand Slam champion for the secon successive round, Brit Laura Robson held fort in number one. After a couple of years of "Will she?" "Won't she?" - the Brit finally seems to have arrived on the stage. At least the USTA certainly thinks so.
Room One also played host to two of the biggest stories from this year's Open - the departures of Kim Clijsters and Andy Roddick.
The room was jam-packed for both - with reporters crammed all the way to the stairs leading down to the exit. Camermen tried desperately to squeeze and sometimes sneak in without the knowledge of the officials in attendance. Kind of difficult to do when you have a 5-foot lens to manouever into position. Both press conferences ended with applause as two champions bowed out.
Big arrivals, bigger departures - it all happens in Room One.
Thursday (Aug 30, 2012)
I decided to extend my sojourns to the outer reaches of the Billie Jean King Tennis Centre and chanced upon the US Open bookstore on Thursday.
The bookstore is housed in a small room tucked away near one of the exits from the complex, and barely deserves to be called one, "boasts" as it does of 60, perhaps 70 books.
But the thing that strikes me the most is the number of books on tennis training. I count 32 of them while the cashier gives me a "Oh my God, he's crazy" stare.
There are books on improving your groundstrokes, mental conditioning, tips on how to play the game if you're into your 50s and one on wheelchair tennis training. Americans take their tennis very seriously.
Despite the paucity of non "how to" books, I end up buying one - Stephen Tignor's McEnroe, Borg and the Untold Story of Tennis's Fiercest Rivalry. Hope it turns out to be a page-turner.
At the other end of the store is a photo gallery - dedicated to the man after whom the biggest tennis stadium in the world is named - Arthur Ashe. It's a series of blown-up photos from the 1960s, of Ashe riding a motorbike, Ashe in a car, Ashe waiting for his laundry (funnily enough, I could just make out the operating instructions on the machine - and they seemed to be in English as well as what looked like Chinese characters. Was China already a manufacturing powerhouse by then?).
I'm not sure if the photos were actually shot by a photographer or if they were gifted to the USTA by Ashe's family. I'll check with the cashier tomorrow, assuming she doesn't run away from me screaming in terror. If it does turn out that they were taken by a photographer, I'll turn green with envy on the spot. That level of access to any top tennis player now is absolutely unimaginable.
We may be living in the golden age of men's tennis now, but the golden age of tennis journalism passed us by a long time ago.
Wednesday (Aug 29, 2012)
One of the toughest things, for me, about covering the US Open so far, has been deciding which matches to focus on. when there are about 10-11 singles matches going on at any given time.
I could focus on the big names of course, but they tend to steamroll opposition in the opening few rounds, and reading too much into their form so early on is foolish. At the same time, upsets do happen - and those journalists who were covering other matches, interviewing, eating or were otherwise occupied when Lukas Rosol upset Rafael Nadal at Wimbledon earlier this year probably got an earful from their editors.
Nonetheless, I charted a plan of action that avoided all the big names - focusing instead on Tommy Haas who was playing Ernests Gulbis on Court 17, Xavier Malisse who was playing John Isner on Arthur Ashe and Lleyton Hewitt who was playing Tobias Kamke on Court 13. The common thread? Haas, Malisse and Hewitt are all into their 30s - are unlikely to seriously contend for a Grand Slam, but continue to toil on manfully.
All three matches were on at the same time - which meant some serious shuttling between courts. Court 17 was packed with a vociferous crowd egging on Haas, the 34-year-old who first played at the Open in 1996. Having battled serious injury for most of his career, the German had enjoyed a spectacular renaissance this year and was seeded 21 for the tournament.
It's close, but Haas gets the crucial breaks in each of the first two sets to put himself in command. "This one's finished," I think to myself and head to Ashe for a peek at Malisse - the 32-year-old playing top American seed John Isner. The Belgian is already two sets to love down. At one point in the third set, he challenges an Isner shot that was called in. It's well out.
Malisse remonstrates with the chair umpire, the crowd boos and Malisse flicks his racket towards them in a dismissive gesture. Next point. Isner serve an ace. Malisse challenges again. It's out again. By about a foot. This time the crowd applaud. The Belgian gets it together to win the third set, and I leave - Hewitt's match is about to finish.
The 2001 champ, is all the way out in Court 13 - and the bleachers, the American name for the tiered seats that line the outer courts, are packed. Even as I approach them, I hear the familiar roar of "Come on!" Hewitt in full flow. The Australian has fought back from a set down, and is now on the brink of victory. The crowd is exultant. They love the fighting Aussie. Within minutes, it's over.
In the meantime, Haas has dropped the next two sets against Gulbis. It's all even and there isn't space for an ant inside Court 17. I hang around the court, hoping to squeeze in. No go. In the meantime, Malisse has lost the fourt set and match against Isner. I hurry over to the press conference.
It's in a small room deep inside Arthur Ashe stadium and the Belgian fumes over the umpiring, first in French, then in English. Conference over - I head back over to Court 17. Haas has lost in five sets. Time to eat.
After the late lunch, I glance up at one of the giant scoreboards. Kim Clijsters is down a set and is involved in a second-set tie-break against young Brit Laura Robson. It's back to Ashe for me, but by the time I get back in and up to the third level - it's all over. Clijsters has lost, and with it, has played her final competitve singles match. I missed it.
Just another day at the office.
Tuesday (August 28, 2012)
So the day that was supposed to be stormy and thundery turned out to be sweaty and sticky. No matter - at least the crowd that thronged the compound got their money's worth.
The most impressive aspect of the US Open so far has been the amount of access the crowds have to the players. That doesn't mean fans can sit down for a quiet cup of coffee with them, of course, but the proximity itself is something that is difficult to imagine at other tournaments.
On the five practice courts located right at the entrance to the complex, I have sighted Serena Williams, John Isner, Fernando Verdasco amongst a host of other lesser lights in the first two days. And on the other side of the latticed net are the fans - hundreds of them crammed into a narrow lane, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourites.
The stars obviously prefer the farthest practice, but once finished, they have to walk back past the gathered crowds, and out come the giant tennis balls, and the caps and the t-shirts and squeaky kids' voices. Some are obliging, some not.
One kid got the chance of a lifetime, when, while watching the open practice inside one of the showcourts, he was actually invited down for a few hits by Novak Djokovic. The reason? He'd shouted from the stands "Will you marry me?"
There is little wonder Nole, in addition to being one of the best players in the world, is also one of the most loved. It's only because most fans had already chosen either Nadal or Federer by the time he came along that the Serb is not even more adulated.
Back to the tournament though, and a sense of informality, very different from the other Slams, flows through the entire complex. There's the music, the whack of ball on racket from inside Arthur Ashe is transmitted outside the stadium through speakers mounted on trees and poles and you can hear the roars of the crowd applauding a great point or a victor they were rooting for.
Inside the showcourts, people are encouraged to dance on the aisles to the blaring music if they want to be put up on the giant screen. Hailing from a part of the world where people tend to be reticent, it's a surprise how many are willing to just get up and start letting their hard down right in front of tens of thousands of people. And at the end of every match, the victors signs three balls and hits them into the crowd, in what has become one of the most popular traditions of the tournament.
The US Open wants the visitors to not just witness the event, but to actually be part of it. Based on what I've seen so far, they've certainly succeeded in doing that. Spectacularly so - for such is the popularity of the Open, as it's called here, that you get people who've never followed tennis coming in just to be a part of the carnival atmosphere.
On Monday night, I sat next to a young couple during the Federer-Young match - the guy clearly a massive Federer fan, the girl clearly not a fan of the game. "So tell me what Federer has done so far?" she asked. The guy looked at her in disbelief for a couple of seconds before launching into a long speech detailing all of the Swiss' exploits.
On Tuesday during Djokovic-Lorenzi, another couple walked into the row just behind me, and the first question the woman asked was," Which one is Djokovic?"
Monday (August 27, 2012)
If you've ever wondered what journalists do during rain delays at major tournaments, the answer is: they eat. The first few days of a Grand Slam are manic, and you're running around all over the place - attending matches, sitting in on press conferences, trying to set up interviews, all the while hoping the match you opted not to go for doesn't turn out to be the tournament's biggest upset.
For those who're not familiar with the huge grounds of the Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre, navigating the way from one venue to another can be quite a task.
With all this going on, where is the time to eat? So - when a rain break comes, hundreds of writers, broadcasters, presenters, cameramen descend onto the media dining centre, shovelling in as much nutrition as they can before the rain stops. Those who are crowded out of the dining area check the weather - incessantly. On my way to, uhm, eat, I saw that almost every single individual had the New York weather forecast open.
Some time later, there's an exchange of roles. Those who were eating now check the weather, while those who were doing so earlier, hurry over to get some food.
On Monday, I had just reached the Arthur Ashe media seating area for the Andy Murray-Alex Bogomolov Jr. match when it began to drizzle and within seconds, to pour. I was drenched in the time it took me to pack my bag and head for some shelter about 10 feet away. A US Tennis Association official coming from the other side was soaked as well, and after we grinned at each other's state of disrepair he said rather sagely, "It's all because of Isaac".
I was completely confused for a few seconds, wondering who Isaac was and what he had to do with the rain when I realised he was referring to the tropical storm heading towards the US coast.
More thundershowers are forecast for Tuesday - which might mean another late finish. But at least there'll be time to eat.
Sunday (August 26, 2012)
It has only been a few hours since I arrived here, and New York has already thrown up its fair share of surprises. In fact, they began even before I landed.
Maybe I'm biased for obvious reasons, but what struck me the most as we began our rather leisurely descent into John F. Kennedy airport was the number of number of sports stadia that dotted the city. American football pitches, baseball grounds, basketball, tennis courts - you name it. More surprising was the presence of a couple of soccer (hey, when in Rome, do as the Romans do...) pitches, since the global game isn't exactly front page material here.
But the most stunning sight was the sight of a ravishingly green cricket field replete with white-clad players and an avuncular umpire, although the latter might just have been my imagination - I was still about 20,000 feet in the air and barely functioning as a competent human being after nearly 24 hours without sleep. Nonetheless, there is no doubt that a full-fledged match of cricket was being played in a country that has proved famously resistant to the charms of the English game.
The other startling thing about the city, at least from up in the air, was how orderly everything looked. If you use Hollywood as a guide, and I did, New York is supposed to be in a constant state of chaos - with either giant reptiles, washed-out Cold War-era Russian spies or global warming out to destroy it.
You'd expect to see nothing but absolute, utter bedlam. All I observed was buildings and streets as far as the eye could see, all neatly arranged in grids or concentric semi-circles with the massive splash of welcoming green that is Central Park adding to the sense of serenity. That didn't last long, of course.
Trying to take a cab from Madison Square Garden back to my hotel later, I stood around a cluster of people, naturally assuming (I've been living in Singapore for a long time now) that they would soon unravel themselves into a polite queue. No such luck. I was a mere bystander as they whizzed past me as if shot out of a cannon.
It was only after "losing" about five cabs out of sheer shock that I gathered myself together - using the hefty backpack on my back as an oscillating weapon to clear the crowd and spring into one myself. New York? Calm? Hah!
As far as the US Open goes, someone here told me the subways had been plastered with Rafael Nadal's images before the Spaniard pulled out of the tournament due to a knee problem. And I ended the day by watching last year's final between Nadal and Djokovic. He may have lost, but there is no doubt Nadal's all-action, machismo filled style electrifies the crowd like few other players. He will be hugely missed here.
But there are a lot of other things to look forward to - Kim Clijsters' final Slam appearance, Roger Federer's quest for number 18 - the maestro starts against Donald Young on Monday - Andy Murray's quest for number one and Novak Djokovic's attempt to recapture the magic from last season.
Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
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