!55395312 By Pete Bodo
Mornin', everyone. So here I am at the start of the three-week US Open slog. Sorry I'm a little late with this - I had to drop my boy Luke off at "zoo camp" (it's a one-week program at the Bronx Zoo), and Andrew Friedman and his boy Declan came along for the ride. Navigating the boroughs of New York can be a daunting task but we finally made it; Andrew proved a superb wingman.
I picked up my credential and got squared away with my Internet service (thanks to Kevin Massiah, one of the full-time IT hands at the event); I have the same desk three years running now, and I'll miss my usual neighbor, Kamakshi Tandon (she's going back to law school). But the rest of the Tennis/Tennis.com crew will be here, so I'll be in good company.
I was just set-up and checking email when an acquaintance came rushing over to tell me that a very well known columnist (who shall remain nameless) was waiting outside, needing to see me.
Turns out said columnist had a family member out here today, and he wanted to get a peek inside Arthur Ashe stadium, but security was adamant about enforcing the rule keeping all but credentialed folks out of the stadium. So I got the USTA's Jean Marie Daly out there and she tried to have someone walk the gentleman through as a courtesy (he's apparently a high-powered judge, somewhere). Couldn't be done, though. Rules are rules, as they say. Frankly, I'm glad they run so tight a ship here, even if the poor judge never did get to look inside (empty) Arthur Ashe stadium. Guess I'm become a curmudgeon or something, but I'm very into enforcing rules with an even hand. The down side is that Andrew couldn't even get Declan, who's 5, into the media center.
Of course, this is the kind of thing that happens all the time out here; seems like there's always someone looking to do something a little extra-conventional, starting with getting free tickets, better tickets, more tickets, etc. etc. And many of us spend a lot of time every day trying to get some kind of rule-bending favor done, or seeing to it that somebody with a special need is satisfied.
About this time of the month my phone at home (although presently I have no home) begins to ring and people, including some I haven't seen in years, and whose names I may not even recognize) will invariably start to chit-chat, driving toward the goal line, which is usually reached via some variation on this: I'm trying to get two tickets to the men's semifinals for my wife and her cousin, who is dying of cancer but has never seen Roger Federer play. . . I'd be happy to pay for them, of course. . .
I love that last bit - He'd even pay (if he must, of course!) for two ticket to the US Open men's semis. Wow, what a guy!
It would be pretty fun if it didn't take so much danged time just to go through the process. But it's all good - part of the big show, and a sure indicator of just how big this show has become.
So I'm out here at the qualifying event (as I keep saying, the best deal in sports - free admission, the concessions are open, and the only thing really missing are the massive crowds and top players - not insignificant absences, of course, but neither of those factors are critical to having a great time). And if you feel a little ambivalent about watching qualifying-level players, get a load of the names in action today:
Guillermo Canas, Scoville Jenkins, Dominik Hrbaty, Ryler DeHeart, Gigor Dimitrov, Virginia Ruano Pascal, Prakash Amritraj, Michael Russel, Kimiko Date Krumm, Coco Vandeweghe, Marco Chiudinelli, Shenay Perry, Xavier Malisse, Lilia Osterloh, Tatiana Poutchek, Alex Bogomolov, Stefan Koubek. . .Nicole Vaidisova.
Yep, all of them are in qualifying. I'm going out to watch. I'll report on what I see later, or tomorrow morning.