A vast feeling of emptiness: What it's like at a nondescript US Open

NEW YORK—The great irony of this year’s US Open, held at the largest public tennis facility in the world, is how private it is. Privacy is coveted in this city of more than 8 million—it always has been, but particularly during the pandemic—from where its denizens live to the doors they’re allowed walk through. But an exclusive invitation to this coronavirus edition of the Grand Slam tournament is something no New Yorker, no matter how much of a tennis fan they are, should ever seek.

First and foremost, there’s the big picture: we are in the midst of universal disruption to everyday life, and anything we can do to change that would be welcome. No one is looking forward to a sequel of 2020. But second: it is only when you experience how small this US Open is, compared to any one that preceded it, that you realize the true size of this facility, along with how much is missing inside it. Experiences, commerce and energy have all been left behind, replaced by a vast feeling of emptiness. Monday resembled a typical May afternoon in Flushing Meadows, when its field courts are populated by novices, rather than pros. This on a day that, from a tournament-schedule perspective, will be its busiest.

Arthur Ashe Stadium, the gargantuan arena that defines the US Open, was a fine example of this void.

“I mean, it’s super huge and it still feels super empty,” said Karolina Pliskova, who won on Ashe in front of a smattering of credentialed individuals, along with some colleagues occupying the luxury suites, “but…I felt like there is at least couple people watching there.”

Angelique Kerber and Ajla Tomljanovic played in a practically empty Louis Armstrong Stadium on Day 1. (Getty Images)

But wherever you turned on this disorienting day, it was clear: this nondescript US Open was unlike any other. Take Court 15, one of the smallest stages at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. Just before 11 a.m., it was the destination for 102nd-ranked Varvara Gracheva, 94th-ranked Paula Badosa and a tournament escort. Not that the latter was essential. Forget six feet of social distancing—there wasn’t a person within 30 feet of either player as they quickly traversed the grounds.

When they arrived at their destination, and the players had listened to the chair umpire’s directions, Gracheva had to clear up one thing with her one-person player box.

“There’s no coaching, completely,” Gracheva told her coach softly, but clear enough to be heard from a distance.

A warm-up followed—a sense of normalcy. Then each player was reminded to place their towels on the hooks outside the court, after both initially draped them on courtside signage.

Handling players’ towels are now omitted from a ballperson’s duties; this is perhaps the only positive casualty of the pandemic. But there were at least ballpersons on the court. The same couldn’t be said for linespersons, with Hawk-Eye Live now the arbiter of “in” and “out” calls on every court outside of Ashe and Louis Armstrong Stadium. On the first point, as Badosa’s ball sailed long, a piercing “OUT” filled the air. Whenever fans can return to the Open, the boisterous electronic line-calling system will surely be loud enough to talk over them.

As for the one Gracheva fan in attendance, her coach, he replied with a single clap.

There were other signs of US Open’s new abnormal. A skyward glance on this flawless, late-August day saw airplanes ascending from LaGuardia, something the tournament proudly clamps down on in ordinary time. And rather than the dulcet tones of the event’s emcee permeating around the venue, only necessary commands sounded over the PA, starkly and directly: “Attention players, Begu and Kvitova: Please report to the calling area for your match.”

Normally teeming with fans, the US Open thoroughfares are great for socially distanced walks. (Getty Images)

“It’s been different, for sure,” said the two-time Wimbledon champion Kvitova, a straight-sets winner on Monday. “I’m glad that I had a couple of matches before to kind of get used to these new things. Luckily I played one match in the tournament before, Cincinnati. I played some exhibitions in Prague, as well. We had to hold our towels, and so I’m kind of player who always going for the towels like many times.

“So that's how it is, and we are all on the same page, so everybody had to get used to.”

But if the pageantry surrounding the US Open had been stripped, its fundamentals—high-stakes tennis—remained. And, ultimately, that is what matters. As last week’s Western & Southern Open showed, talent still wins out, and as bizarre as this tournament is, it will still be a surprise to see someone far outside the upper crust lift a trophy. The sport inside the court hasn’t changed, even if everything surrounding it has.

“Be in the moment—that ball isn’t going to be picked up by itself,” a tournament official instructed two ballpersons as their shift ended on Court 15. “Be back here, 1:55, ready to go.”

When they did return, a new match was taking place, for Badosa failed to overcome something both a weekend warrior and a tour-level champion have experienced on this court: pressure.

The 20-year-old Gracheva won the first set, but Badosa had taken a break lead in the second at 5-4. The US Open is the 22-year-old Spaniard’s favorite tournament—she was born in New York City. It only added to the pressure. The setting didn’t look the same, but it was still the Grand Slam tournament in her birthplace, with plenty of prize money and ranking points up for grabs.

Badosa was broken, Gracheva consolidated with a hold, and after two double faults and an exchange of points, Badosa suddenly trailed by double match point. When she saved the first, she heard three claps.

When Gracheva won the second, she yelled in joy, tapped her opponents’ racquet, and sat down on her chair. Then, a few minutes later, she sat down with her coach at a table that would rarely be vacant on Day 1:

As for Badova, it was time to make the short trip back to the locker rooms. There was no security flanking her, and not even a member of her team:

It looked like a dress rehearsal, but it was opening day. Welcome to the 2020 US Open.