How fair is the preferential treatment stars like Frances Tiafoe receive at the US Open?

Definitely, definitely. Hotels, rooms. A lot of perks at the hotel. I have a suite room. . . Yeah, I mean, it's the love you get on site. Everyone is so excited every time you get on the grounds. Practice on 1 through 5 every time, if not a stadium court. I practiced on Ashe a couple times before the tournament. I've never done that before. Yeah, it makes you feel really accommodated, loved, and ready to go. Frances Tiafoe, following his second-round win, on the advantages of being a top seed at the US Open

NEW YORK—Gotham is in love with Frances Tiafoe, and the charismatic 25-year old with the inspirational backstory loves the city right back. That relationship achieved critical mass in Arthur Ashe Stadium last year at this time, when Tiafoe played a sensational, riveting semifinal against eventual champ Carlos Alcaraz.

There was—is—more to it than that. Tiafoe has an electric game that feeds, and feeds on, the crowd’s appetite for emotional voltage, and a boyish smile as wide as the nearby Grand Central Parkway. He’s like former US Open idol Jimmy Connors, but without the nasty bits. A superb showman, Tiafoe also a tireless cheerleader for a generation of fellow American players, led by Taylor Fritz and Tommy Paul who are, by definition, rivals. Tiafoe is a team-spirited and generous guy.

“American tennis is in a great spot,” Tiafoe said of his generation’s big push to end the Grand Slam slump the American men have been mired in since Andy Roddick won a major at the US Open in 2003. “It's been probably the best spot it has been in a really long time.”

Given all that, it’s hardly surprising that Tiafoe is treated generously in return by the officials of the US Open. But the respect and support accorded to Tiafoe also underscores a lingering sore spot in the game: the enormous difference between the haves and have-nots in tennis. The rich get richer in a way that doesn’t necessarily occur in most sports, where the concept of a level playing field is sacrosanct.

Billie Jean King has long preached the gospel that tennis players are first and foremost entertainers, and the preferential treatment accorded to the stars of tennis is the most convincing proof of that. True, perks and details like favorable scheduling can’t change once the players hit the first ball. But they sure make it tougher to dislodge the players at the pinnacle of the game, and highlight the way tennis operates on a star system that has more in common with Hollywood than, say, golf. Or professional team sports.

Every once in a while, this issue bubbles to the surface. It’s an awkward, inherent contradiction that the sport isn’t designed to handle. It’s a point worth considering at a time when tennis is grappling with some major issues of equity, including prize-money distribution and equal pay for men and women. Novak Djokovic and his colleagues in the aborning Professional Tennis Player Association are making the case that the players aren’t getting enough of the financial pie. But because tennis is a fairly harsh sport of individuals, locked into a star system, it’s hard to see how some of the alleged inequalities can be redressed—or even if it’s realistic to attempt it.

The top-heavy distribution of prize money is one conspicuous problem. Yet without the enormous financial incentive to win big, who is going to dedicate his or her life to tennis? On a more pedestrian level, things like court scheduling, the reluctance of chair umpires to enforce rules that might threaten the survival of a star, and catering to the stars needs are de facto facts of tennis life.

A few years ago at Wimbledon, Julien Benneteau did a radio interview in which he lit into the organizers of the Australian Open for scheduling all of Roger Fedrerer’s matches for the night sessions, sparing the Swiss the rigors of playing in Melbourne’s stifling heat.

“I get the feeling it is perceived as preferential treatment,” Tournament Director Craig Tiley said in response. “But they’re the top players in the world. My general rule is if you’re at the top of the game, a Grand Slam champion, it’s just the nature of the business. You are going to get a better deal.”

That’s a realistic assessment and an understandable response, but it has nothing to do with “fairness” per se. There was a less defensible example of preferential treatment Down Under in the run-up to the Australian Open during the pandemic year of 2021. A group of elite players, including Serena Williams, Naomi Osaka and Dominic Thiem, were hosted in upscale Adelaide hotels for their obligatory 14 days of quarantine, with greater access to practice and more freedom of movement, than the bulk of the players strictly sequestered in more modest Melbourne hotels.

True, perks and details like favorable scheduling can’t change once the players hit the first ball. But they sure make it tougher to dislodge the players at the pinnacle of the game.

Alexander Zverev, an elite player who reached the quarterfinals in the main event, characterized the preferential treatment as a “real mistake,” acknowledging that the Adelaide contingent clearly benefited from more practice time and “more freedom.”

There’s no use blaming the players who capitalize on preferential treatment. It’s the way the game works, with a handful of stars and a large supporting cast. Besides, if anyone has earned a right to perks, it’s someone like Tiafoe. Having come up the hard way, the son of immigrants from Sierra Leone, Tiafoe is an inspirational figure.

And let’s not forget that the perks also come with some challenging caveats. Tiafoe knows what he must do to keep fans and celebrities flooding to his matches: “I have to keep winning so they stay interested.”