“I asked her,” Bob said, “if she watched a match for enjoyment, or to learn things she could use in her own game.” “And?” I asked. My friend Bob told me that, at the Novak Djokovic-Alexandr Dolgopolov match, he was sitting next to a Ukrainian couple and their 13-year-old daughter, who had been playing tennis for five years already. Then forgetting to look the next time they showed the scores. Worst thing about the Open (besides the rain)? During a changeover looking up at the screen, hoping to find scores from other matches, and seeing a commercial. The “Got Nadal?” T-shirt seen on the grounds was answered, in a way, by the one that read “Roger That!” “I know people say Asians all look alike,” one of the women said, “but they all look alike.” You must get all the women.”ĭuring lunch in the food court with two young Korean-American women, the conversation turned to the female players. I get in free.” “You get in free?!? Man, you got it good. “How much are tickets?” “I don’t know,” I told him. “I’m coming back from the tennis.” “I’ve been wanting to go out there,” he said. “How’s your evening going?” the driver of the M57 bus asked his only passenger just around midnight. Jo-Wilfried Tsonga wore – and apparently always wears – his wristband on his non-hitting arm. Spotted the first weekend: Two monks in light brown robes and sandals, both with shaved heads and bushy beards. “I like to wait,” she said, “until they get sweaty.” The photographer sitting next to me watched the first set of the Rafael Nadal-David Nalbandian match on the TV above her work station. She took a well-deserved break from her iPhone and thoughtfully answered the man’s questions about when and how to introduce his children to tennis. ![]() She looked familiar because she was Andy Murray’s mother. On the shuttle back into Manhattan one night, a young man looked across the aisle and asked a woman sitting alone if she was from Miami. (Here’s to a lot more Grand Slams for Bud.) On the first Sunday, Bud Collins took a spill and damaged his knee, necessitating an early return to Boston. Overheard one morning in the photographers’ lounge beneath Arthur Ashe Stadium: “Is it too much to ask for some short matches today?” “A few retirements?” echoed the man’s colleague.Ī record number of players retired, but they weren’t the only ones felled by injuries.
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