What’s the best place in the world to watch tennis? The other two majors I’ve attended, the French Open and Wimbledon, have a variety of unique viewing spots, both large and small. The press “tribune” in Centre Court is the center of the tennis universe as far as I’m concerned, but Court 2 at the All England Club, the Graveyard, puts big stars a few feet from your face. Roland Garros’ version of the Graveyard is the small, circular Bullring; not only is it intimate, but the name somehow inspires rowdiness—that’s where Marat Safin dropped his shorts a few years ago after winning a point.
No one has dropped his or her shorts, as far as I know, this year at the U.S. Open. It’s all business here, from the rock-hard courts to the never ending food plazas; the National Tennis Center has a more stripped-down and commercial layout than Wimbledon or the French—even after major rebuilding, the All England Club has retained a few nooks and crannies. At Flushing Meadows, there are basically three types of side courts: those with three rows of bleachers; those with 15 or so rows of bleachers; and those with 30 or so rows of bleachers. That’s about it for variety around here.
The only oddity, the only thing approaching a nook or cranny, is the venerable Grandstand, itself a survivor of major rebuilding. Now the third-largest venue on the grounds, it was originally the second fiddle. Modeled on the old Court 1 at Wimbledon, it was built adjacent to the big house at the time, Louis Armstrong Stadium, in 1978; the two were demoted in 1997 when the enduring monstrosity (Ashe) made its terrifying debut.
Some big matches have been played on the Granny. The highlight of the first Open I attended, in 1983, was crouching on a staircase high above the Grandstand, where I had found about a foot-long slot of viewing space to see 16-year-old Aaron Krickstein shock Vitas Gerulaitis in five sets—a sort of second-tier changing of the guard match for that time period. I was hooked on the Grandstand. It’s also one of the few courts that the USTA has improved over the years. Originally there was an indoor restaurant, called, inevitably, Racquets, that overlooked one sideline. It was replaced a few years ago with a new bank of seats that are shaded from the sun and have backs on them (the rest of the GS has backless benches, which induce painful hunching). If I were a paying spectator, I would come early during a first-week day and park myself on this bank of seats for the day. You’re not going to find anything better no matter how far you wander.
So I tried it myself on Thursday. The Grandstand was crowded from the start for the 11:00 A.M. Andy Murray-Jonas Bjorkman match (no, there wasn’t much going on otherwise). It was a muggy, sunny day, and fans bunched themselves up in the few shady areas available. There’s always a sense of hooky in the air on these weekdays at the Open, especially in the GS. Fans spread out, lay back, head for the top of the bleachers and take a nap.
The least-festive person around was Andy Murray—surprised? He has five times as much game as old man Bjorkman at this point, but he seemed to want to lose to spite someone. Brad? The LTA, which has its entire coaching brigade in the stands for all of his matches? His nose, most likely. The guy has trouble doing anything happily or easily. Which is not necessarily a bad thing; it made for an entertaining few hours for those of us who had skipped out of the office.
This was old school vs. new, 30-something serve-and-volleyer vs. 20-year-old baseline hitter. Murray, though, seems to have come out on the other side of the new school to create something new-er, a hybrid of baseline belting and all-court guile that the sport sorely missed during the last few months when he was injured. He looks bigger all around now, both taller and thicker; the Gilbert diet and exercise plan has him pounding serves upwards of 125 m.p.h.
But he’s still got his old tricks and flaws, which are fun to watch from close range. Murray has been a star of the GS for years, having “given Andrei Pavel the boot” here in 2005 and beaten Fernando Gonzalez in five sets last year. From the vantage of the press seats on the sideline, you can a good look at the variety of spins and paces he employs over the course of a point. To steal a metaphor from Murray’s favorite sport, it’s rope-a-dope tennis that often ends with a stinging jab forehand. You also get at good look at the mental approach that may keep him down in the future. Serving at 4-5 in the fourth set, he misses a first serve and immediately complains to the chair umpire about how late the call was. Focus and practicality are not his things just yet, and he ends that game by getting broken for the set.
Bjorkman eventually runs out of gas—this seems to be the season for elder statesmen making doomed last stands. Henman, Santoro, and Bjorkman are dropping, one by one, like flies. Watching this tournament, you can see how out of place they are today; the game will miss the variety all three brought with them.
Next up on the Grandstand are two pretty girls, Nicole Vaidisova vs. Flavia Pennetta. The air goes out of the GS a bit, as it tends to do when women’s matches are followed by men’s—the women look like they can barely get the ball past the service line by comparison. Vaidisova and Pennetta begin at the height of the day’s heat and humidity but don’t “go to the towel” between points. Is this considered unladylike? Vaidisova, who instead flicks the sweat from her forehead with her finger (if it was good enough for Pete Sampras…), looks strong from the start, rolling easily and calmly to 6-2 first set win.
What, exactly, will Vaidisova’s future be in the game? Will she win Slams? On a day like today, you can’t see why not. She has so much more natural, inherent power on all of her shots than Pennetta, who is not a bad player. But then you look at the mechanics of Vaidisova’s strokes, especially when the match gets tight, and you start to wonder. That forehand is a little long in the backswing. That backhand is also a little oversized and clunky, relying as much on a full-body turn as it does on pure timing. Neither stroke is built for defense. Worse is the way they both go south as she’s trying to put the match away. Serving at 6-5 in the second, she blows multiple match points by suddenly drilling forehands, which she’s been making all day, into the middle of the net. Vaidisova melts down and is broken, but she recovers and wins the tiebreaker easily. A sign of fragility and then a sign of emerging maturity: I’m still not sure what her future holds.
It’s late afternoon on the GS. The sun has finally hidden itself and a nice breeze has kicked up. This is what they call tennis weather. What better time for some testy German vs. German action? Tommy Haas, another veteran of the GS, faces Philipp Petzschner, who I’ve never seen. Years ago, I watched a Haas match on this court where three young girls in the front row wouldn’t take their eyes off of him (these were his pre-bulk days). At the end, they moved forward with giant tennis balls for him to sign. They were poised at the front, but Haas chose to start signing on the other side of the net and never got to them. All three looked straight down at the ground and shuffled away slowly.
Today it’s Haas’s opponent who announces himself early and loudly. Petzschner is a fairly little guy with a gun for a serve; in here it sounds like it’s been shot from a cannon. That’s the other beautiful thing about the Grandstand: the sound reverberates. Everything sounds like the best shot ever hit. Petzschner comes up with some of the best he's likely to hit in winning the first set. The guy is a blaster, a sort of poor man’s Tursunov who lives to rifle his forehand hard, harder, and harder still. But you can see from this distance that his strokes are flawed. Even more than Vaidisova, his forehand takes too long to unwind and he runs through it without getting set too often.
There’s plenty of insane shot-making from both guys, but better form eventually holds and Haas wins in four. Even at the pro level, you can the differences between the top guys and the second tier. Haas has absolutely no technical deficiencies; Petzschner, also a great player, has a few quirks that don’t look like much. But if he doesn’t fix them, we’ll never see him again.
But I’d take him, along with any other shot-maker, on the Grandstand anytime. It’s hard not be entertaining inside tennis’ best venue.