Six decades ago was my first summer in Flushing. It also happened to be the site of the World’s Fair, the second in 25 years to be held in Flushing Meadow Park, which just happened to have an entrance right down the hill from our seemingly “country-style” living garden apartment. To give you some idea of how urban was the environment where I spent my years as a toddler, this was the first place I’d called home that had a patch of grass. So a park within walking distance was a G-dsend.
But at that time Flushing Meadow was known primarily for those Fairs, an ancient public swimming pool called The Aquacade whose water was often yellowish in color, and the first seasons of the woeful expansion Mets at spanking new Shea Stadium. Once those Fairs ended, the park soon became little more than a lot of quickly browning acres of grass that we tended to avoid.
As far as tennis goes, in those days the mecca was also within walking distance of my garden apartment, albeit in a different direction. If you steered clear of that entrance and took Jewel Avenue into Forest Hills, you’d soon be able to find a way to the West Side Tennis Club, the walled castle at the top of a hill near a drug store whose owner my Dad loved to visit. I’d join him on those walks for company, I’d ask him if we could go to a match there. Too expensive, Dad said, and under his breath he’d mutter how he didn’t want to be around all those “elites”.
But when the U.S. Open relocated to Flushing Meadows, on those hundreds of newly manicured acres, those 16 outdoor courts with no imposing walls, I was by that time old and financially independent enough to make up my own mind. It’s with that backdrop that I offer to you that while my own tennis game is horrific, my passion for the sport is strong, especially when my old neighborhood is involved.
So for this fortnight that wraps around both sides of Labor Day I’m invested and intrigued more than usual. It’s white noise as I work, and these days my alert app keeps me invested even when I’m out. And I’m more than a little jazzed when something unexpected happens, just like it did last night as AM New York’s Shane O’Brien reported this morning:
Sloane Stephens, the 2017 champion, was the biggest casualty on Day One of the US Open after suffering a calamitous collapse against Clara Burel at Arthur Ashe on Monday night.
Stephens appeared to be on course for a comfortable victory after winning each of the opening nine games to lead 6-0, 3-0 having secured the double break. She also served for the match in both the second and third sets but gave up each service game with a whimper. Burel eventually emerged victorious, winning out 0-6, 7-5, 7-5 to Stun the World No. 13.
And it’s gonna be like that for next 13 days and nights. With the entire world beating a path to my one-time doorstep. And me wishing so hard I could be there to greet them.
Courage…