The Hidden Gems of the US Open: Outside the gates at practice courts P6 to P17

NEW YORK—At the US Open, “outside courts” is a literal descriptor. Practice courts P6 to P17 are actually well beyond the perimeter wire of the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, hard by an MTA train yard and the IRT Flushing Line’s No. 7 train station. Anyone spending time in the park, regardless of tennis IQ, can just roll up to those courts and watch players, including some bonafide stars, working out.

“It’s a public park, so there needs to be access for the public to enjoy it,” Ben Shapiro, director of pro operations at the NTC, told me. “So it’s part of our US Open world.”

The situation has given rise to a fair amount of mythology, not all of it pretty. The outside “P” courts are so far from the locker rooms that the tournament provides shuttle service to them. Players grouse about being exiled to the hinterland, where their lusty grunts are sometimes punctuated by rumble and the harsh squeal of the No. 7 trains’ brakes.

But the courts are also the incubators of greatness—and war stories.

“Those are the best courts,” Ons Jabeur, last year’s runner-up in the women’s singles, said at Wimbledon. Recalling her days as an unknown outlier, the much-loved Tunisian added, “You appreciate those courts [because] you start from the bottom, then [eventually] you just walk a couple of meters and go practice on the other courts [inside the main venue].”

All that in mind, I went to visit those courts on the first day of this year’s tournament, wondering if I should have worn a pith helmet or carried extra water. I did not find quite what I had expected.

As I left the NTC grounds walking east, I navigated a maze of security stations and paths directing different segments of the public and workers to the appropriate turnstiles. The roaring noise from the facility grew fainter with every step, until it was so faint that I actually could hear the muzak welcoming the public pouring in from the boardwalk leading to the train stations, a ghastly easy-listening rendition of the Elton John song, “Rocketman.”

I passed the small, circular plaza where staff are stationed to give directions to newcomers. It’s the official dividing line between the NTC and the park proper—between the bougie tournament and sometimes gritty urban park. A long-haired, bare-chested homeless—and harmless—dude wearing olive-drab fatigues stood there like a staff member, a welcome to the hinterland.

Not long thereafter, courts appeared on either side of the asphalt walkway—P6-12 on the left, P13-17 on my right—with modest aluminum bleachers scattered here and there among an abundant number of trees, including handsome specimens of plane and locust. A word that seems oxymoronic regarding anything US Open came to mind: The place is pastoral.

The sign-in desk, manned by three young men, sat about midway along the path inside a roped off, well-shaded, grassy area. Off to one side, inside a large tent with a hard, carpeted floor, players stretched on the floor or rode bikes, cooling down while staring at their phones. Then Alexander Zverev, a former finalist still rebounding from injury, came walking over, surrounded by a gaggle of mostly female fans who buzzed around him like fruit flies, seeking selfies. Zverev, security man alongside, engaged briefly before popping into a black shuttle bus for the trip back to the locker room.

The courts in the hinterland are not laid out grid-like. You have to poke around a bit among the trees to find them. At most of them, only windscreens at the back end of the courts prevent you from having an excellent view. Vera Zvonareva, a former US Open finalist, was on P6, eight of 10 people watching from the small bleachers along the near sideline. A few courts over, Katie Boulter and Petra Martic were going at it in earnest. Colorful racquet bags and warm-ups lay piled along the back fence at every court.

Those are the best courts. You appreciate those courts [because] you start from the bottom, then [eventually] you just walk a couple of meters and go practice on the other courts [inside the main venue]. Ons Jabeur

I wandered away, checked the sign-in desk, and went to watch Andrey Rublev practicing with Thomas Martin Etcheverry. They were on P17, theoretically the very bottom rung on the string of courts leading to the big one inside Arthur Ashe Stadium. On the adjacent court, Michael Mmoh, easily identified by his unique serving motion, was mixing it up with Taro Daniel. A handful of fans stood along the cyclone fence, clutching it like prisoners in a yard, just feet from where Rublev and Echeverrey sat dripping perspiration during a brief break. It was a felicitous—that is to say a very un-US Open—scene. Soon it would be interrupted only by the massive “pock” of a Rublev forehand, or Etcheverry’s occasional grunt of agony.

These first few days,” Shapiro had told me, “All the courts inside [the tournament grounds] are full with people playing or warming up. So even some big names end up on the outside practice courts.”

He explained that some players complain, because they would rather be on P1 or another court just steps away from the locker room, player dining, the physios.

“With our layout, though, that’s impossible. So we try to offer them amenities, like shuttle service. We don’t just send them out to wander around the park, looking for the courts.”

By Labor Day, though, enough courts are freed up inside the NTC so that it is mostly juniors and others in secondary events on the outside courts. It seemed like a minor distinction to me, because it isn’t as if the P6 to P17 courts are flooded with onlookers, only a few savvy fans who know the drill—and perhaps some locals and curious passers-by.

One day, we can hope, some new American sensation—perhaps the child of an Ecuadorian or West Indian immigrant (the Flushing neighborhood is famous for its diversity) will tell the international press during the main event how she became interested in tennis while wandering around in the park during the US Open, and now here she is, a semifinalist. But the day may be more distant than it seems.

“It’s kind of fun out there, it’s kind of a cool mix when you step outside,” Shapiro told me. “It’s a very New York experience. There’s people out there selling fruit, people playing football [soccer]. But there’s not much awareness [of the tennis] from people in the community.”

It’s a public park, so there needs to be access for the public to enjoy it. So it’s part of our US Open world. Ben Shapiro, director of pro operations at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center

That’s disappointing to tennis evangelists, but the USTA has made efforts to alleviate the disinterest including, also, free entry into the NTC during the qualifying tournament. But then, the flashy Gotham and suburban crowds—a Serengeti populated by herds including tennis club regulars, prep-school kids, money managers, Karens—who flood the NTC don’t seem to be very interested in the perimeter courts, either. Perhaps they subconsciously feel that if it’s free, it can’t be any good. Some may even be reluctant to venture outside the safe confines of the NTC. Ingrained fears and prejudices can be difficult to overcome, as can indifference.

I hung around, watching a few more players whacking tennis balls with a degree of skill that would impress anyone. Then I made my way back to the main event, the waves of noise growing and putting me off as I neared the venue. The homeless man was still lingering in place, oblivious, like so many others, to the pleasant scenes of world-class athletes plying their craft so very close.