Fognini closes his mind on the Open — it’s ‘the worst’
By Art Spander
NEW YORK — So Fabio Fognini, who most Americans wouldn’t know from Giuseppe Verdi, except Fognini probably has a better forehand, says the U.S. Open is worst of the four tennis Grand Slam tournaments. Maybe we could get a comment from Colin Kaepernick.
Fognini’s dislike of the event surfaced when he was warned for whacking a ball in anger after losing a point and subsequently received a point penalty for — he said — jokingly grabbing a line judge’s sunglasses.
“They have their rules,” Fognini told writers from Italy. “You know the Americans are different in every way.”
Meaning we walk on all fours?
“Of the Grand Slams,” he specified. “this, as far as I’m concerned, is the worst.”
Apparently he spoke without consulting his wife, Flavia Pennetta, who, having won the women’s singles last year over Roberta Vinci in the final, surely has a different opinion.
If, however, Fognini has such low regard of the Open, perhaps, as one tennis official pointed out, he shouldn’t enter.
“But then,” the man reminded, “he wouldn’t have a chance to make money.”
Worst or best — and the vote here is very much toward the latter — the Open is a joy, two weeks of high-class sport and New York madness, an event as much as a championship where the crowds are huge, the competition tense and a kid can get an autograph almost as easily as he can a kosher hot dog.
The whole idea in entertainment, and sports is yet another form, is to, well, entertain, whether it’s a hot musical like “Hamilton,” where tickets before the cast change were selling in the $500 range, or a concert or ball game. To make the people feel good.
They figured out how to do that long ago at the Open, where music blares, fountains spray and it’s just as much fun to watch a key match on the big screen facing the plaza as it is inside the largest arena in tennis, 23,771-seat Arthur Ashe Stadium.
In this city that never sleeps, the tennis starts each day a few minutes after 11 a.m. and lasts until, well,Tuesday. The match in which Madison Keys defeated Alison Riske started Monday night and lasted 2 hours 26 minutes, ending at 1:48 a.m., the latest ever for a women’s match.
The fans who stayed until the end cheered — themselves, as well as Keys and Riske. Nobody leaves early in New York, even if early is late. Besides, the subway’s still running, and there’s a place on East 51st Street, Bateau Ivre, that serves full meals until 4 a.m. So what’s the rush?
The Open is part history and part circus, and it now has a new big top, a retractable roof, which if the forecast for rain on Thursday is accurate may very well become a grand part of this Grand Slam — the one Fognini slammed grandly, if incorrectly.
Yes, jets from LaGuardia, a few miles away, roar above, but not continually. The wind off Flushing Bay whips around the court at Ashe, but not constantly. If Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic and Serena Williams have won titles there, who can complain? Except Fognini
The Billie Jean King National Center is smack in the middle of a park where the 1964 World’s Fair was held, anchored in a way by the Unisphere, the huge stainless steel representation of the earth constructed for the fair. To come from the south, past the 120-foot sphere, then enter the Court of Champions, past the plaques of everyone from Bill Tilden to Oakland’s Don Budge to Helen Wills, born in Alameda County, to John McEnroe to King herself is a real experience.
A country needs familiar sporting locales, places such as Wimbledon, Churchill Downs, Augusta National, the Rose Bowl — and, as is the case with Billie Jean King Center, places identified with greatness, with triumph.
The U.S. Open draws 700,000 people during its two-week run. On Broadway, they would call that a box office smash, boffo. But Fabio Fognini would rather be anywhere else. Poor fellow.