More stories

  • in

    Here Comes Padel, the Newest Racket Sport Taking Up Game Courts

    I first learned about padel last summer, when my partner sent me a photo from a small court during a visit to Germany.What is that? I wondered.“Padel. A childish version of tennis,” he texted, anticipating my question.As an enthusiastic tennis player, I was not very interested.A few months later, while biking in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, I noticed a large building with a sign that read “Padel Haus,” which billed itself as the first padel club in New York City. This sport wanted my attention, so I invited Victor Mather, a veteran sports reporter, to join me for a lesson.Victor was willing to try. “I am a reasonably fit guy,” he said. But he was turning 60, he said, and added: “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, I haven’t played tennis since prep school, and I have never played squash or racquetball.”I was just happy to be on a court with a racket in hand because it isn’t easy to book a tennis court in the city.Here’s what we learned.First, what is padel?Padel is a racket sport that has been growing in popularity in parts of the United States and other countries. Christian Rodriguez for The New York Times

    @font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-300.fb6b1cd2191b4a3104e3c6b15ce6f294.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-300.48a5e4779dc70097e8f97e08332d1bad.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-300.8fede15c30e43cbc1a20bfa59c045fec.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:italic;font-weight:300;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-500.0fb05587186331cd0a9b0f1a30805e76.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-500.7e321c8cb9da34f32d82e47114f36150.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-500.1a8164a7ba9402b7938a4a088ecdc7c0.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:italic;font-weight:500;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-600.53344665e817d0e6b779b0b12e75db89.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-600.e1875f795ba0d365d032a007eb563b24.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-600.61fa2129de43c6b22d6251bb874e7967.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:italic;font-weight:600;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-700.c2f31454e8f67e6a409c1b5a37c42847.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-700.61d53ea1c2607892d4a7ff00798dbc59.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-700.45666736077d2b862dee9d95a85d8cee.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:italic;font-weight:700;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-800.be53478fd7c32b04647c16795817c00a.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-800.7528246ef94af7fbf426e92d1a234593.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-800.392e85363c515d58d504069f5bff16cc.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:italic;font-weight:800;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-900.93f61fe226df92cc8d8c7aa742f291e7.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-900.b9511ff3ec4a8ab7178d19c1b655c84a.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-italic-900.eb0ff72a1864b509d830becfb3ff9c1f.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:italic;font-weight:900;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-300.a6479a5200f9a6352bdb71589c27c9c3.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-300.fe2bd94ddc6ab147c15e7a4f748b4a9e.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-300.84db46c4aa8492fa2657618cb23f3a2b.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:normal;font-weight:300;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-500.0f4aea3d462cdb64748629efcbbf36bc.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-500.cb85480c30b6ca5f53f673993211036f.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-500.9061b25032eb73a747c2edf738888891.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:normal;font-weight:500;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-600.75739ac267f076931c6da9740386ee6b.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-600.e27b5ffa7bfaa0ac78e146668c74e6f4.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-600.23949bc217f2c95dfe21d3e66ba59445.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:normal;font-weight:600;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-700.91eaf6b5642463af4091160b4bbfdfcb.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-700.ab057a3b069a4ecbde7c3ea74411284e.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-700.3acbe40693cbd3029afc346368ed1b29.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:normal;font-weight:700;font-display:swap;}@font-face{font-family:’nyt-franklin’;src:url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-800.fdc7cad17deeec2db1fe2f9f8c0520ed.woff2’) format(‘woff2’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-800.932fec957ef6d36632bd5494d05ad13b.woff’) format(‘woff’), url(‘https://g1.nyt.com/fonts/mous/fonts/family/franklin/franklin-normal-800.1dc34c8d18e3128867d8e77368f0da56.ttf’) format(‘truetype’);font-style:normal;font-weight:800;font-display:swap;}.css-5h54w2{display:grid;grid-template-columns:2.271fr 1fr;grid-template-rows:repeat(6,1fr);grid-gap:4px;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-5h54w2{grid-gap:8px;}}.css-5h54w2 > :nth-child(1){grid-column:1;grid-row:1 / 4;}.css-5h54w2 > :nth-child(2){grid-column:1;grid-row:4 / 7;-webkit-align-self:end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:end;}.css-5h54w2 > :nth-child(3){grid-column:2;grid-row:1 / 3;}.css-5h54w2 > :nth-child(4){grid-column:2;grid-row:3 / 5;}.css-5h54w2 > :nth-child(5){grid-column:2;grid-row:5 / 7;-webkit-align-self:end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:end;}.css-rrq38y{margin:1rem auto;max-width:945px;}.css-1wsofa1{margin-top:10px;color:var(–color-content-quaternary,#727272);font-family:nyt-imperial,georgia,’times new roman’,times,Songti TC,simsun,serif;font-weight:400;font-size:0.875rem;line-height:1.125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1wsofa1{font-size:0.9375rem;line-height:1.25rem;}}@media (max-width:600px){.css-1wsofa1{margin-left:20px;margin-right:20px;}}Martin Sweeney, the president of the U.S.P.A. said that “Padel is very much in its infancy in the U.S.A. in comparison to most, certainly Europe and South America.”

    We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    A Big Year for Women’s College Basketball in New York

    Both the Columbia and N.Y.U. women’s teams made it to postseason tournaments.Good morning. It’s Friday. We’ll look at why this season was a first for women’s college basketball in New York City. We’ll also find out how LaGuardia Community College will spend a $116.2 million grant from a foundation run by Alexandra Cohen, whose billionaire husband bought the New York Mets in 2020.Ryan Hunt/Getty ImagesThis was the first season that Columbia University’s women’s basketball team made it to the N.C.A.A. Division I tournament.New York University’s women’s team, undefeated in 31 games, also made it to the postseason, making this the first year that the two colleges have done so at the same time — Columbia in Division I, with an at-large place in the Big Dance, and N.Y.U. in Division III. N.Y.U. won the national title in Division III by ending Smith College’s 16-game winning streak, 51-41.“We kind of pulled away in the end, and one of the officials congratulated me on winning,” said Meg Barber, the coach of the N.Y.U. team. “This was probably with about 45 seconds left. I said, ‘Not yet.’ I was like, ‘It’s not over yet,’ and he was like, ‘Yes it is.’”And next season?“I’ve barely processed that we won the national championship,” Barber told me on Thursday, “so I haven’t really thought about next year.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    Gotham F.C. Achieves Its Captain’s Dream of Victory

    Ali Krieger played her last soccer game on Saturday. That was also the day when her team won the championship.Good morning. It’s Tuesday. Today we’ll find out how Gotham F.C. became the one New York area team to win a championship this year. We’ll also get details on what Donald Trump Jr. said in his second appearance in the civil fraud trial against his family and the Trump Organization.Ali Krieger celebrated with teammates after winning the N.W.S.L. Championship match on Saturday. Caroline Brehman/EPA, via ShutterstockOver the weekend Gotham F.C. became the one New York area team to win a championship this year. The team’s new president, Mary Wittenberg, said last month that it was already a big win to make the playoffs. I asked my colleague Claire Fahy, who has kept up with Gotham F.C. all year, to explain how the team accomplished what it did. Here’s what she said:Last year, Gotham F.C. finished 12th out of 12 teams in the National Women’s Soccer League. Last month, the team barely clinched the final spot in the playoffs on a chaotic “decision day,” when almost every team still had a chance at the playoffs and the decisive final games kicked off at the same time.But Gotham became comfortable in its role as spoiler, and the players seemed to believe that anything was possible. Their motivation was powerful: A loss at any stage of the playoffs would end the career of the team’s captain, Ali Krieger, 39, who had announced she would retire when the season was over. “It’s not Ali Krieger’s last game!” became the team’s rallying cry.Win or lose, Saturday’s match finally was Krieger’s last game. And in a storybook ending, Gotham F.C. beat Seattle’s O.L. Reign, 2-1.“You always dream of it that way, right?” Krieger said in an interview on Monday. “You always dream of envisioning yourself on a podium, with the trophy and with the confetti falling.”For Krieger, it was the end of a long road that wound through Germany and Sweden before bringing her back to the United States to help start the N.W.S.L., a career that reflected the struggle to establish a competitive American women’s soccer league. Along the way, she expanded the representation of L.G.B.T.Q. people in professional sports and fought for equal pay alongside her teammates on the U.S. women’s national squad.Gotham F.C. embodies how the N.W.S.L. has changed over the years. In 2018, the team, then called Sky Blue, became notorious for its poor training conditions, which included a lack of showers in the locker rooms, rotating practice fields with uneven grass and bunk beds in team-provided accommodations.Since then, the team has rebranded itself, improved its facilities and made hiring changes, including bringing in a new head coach, Juan Carlos Amorós, who was named N.W.S.L. Coach of the Year last week.And also last week, Carolyn Tisch Blodgett, a member of the family that co-owns the New York Giants, announced that she would join Gotham as a minority owner. The team’s ownership includes Gov. Philip Murphy of New Jersey and his wife, Tammy Murphy, who together owned Sky Blue in 2018. In addition to Tisch Blodgett, the minority owners now include the W.N.B.A. legend Sue Bird, the former N.F.L. quarterback Eli Manning and the N.B.A. star Kevin Durant.The team will now be looking to build on the momentum of a winning season. Gotham’s average attendance — 6,300 people per game, up 42 percent this season from last — still lags behind league leaders like the San Diego Wave and Angel City F.C., which draw an average of 20,000 fans at each game.“This is going to be such a fun city for an organization to really thrive and start building a legacy in,” Krieger said.And now, she’s done something she had never done before — win an N.W.S.L. championship — while playing some of her best soccer. On Saturday, she stepped onto the podium and hoisted the trophy as confetti poured down, just as she had dreamed.“My career has been a gift,” she said, “and to really wrap it up with a bow at the end was just so phenomenal for me.”WeatherA mostly sunny day with temperatures reaching the low 50s. The evening will remain mostly clear, with temperatures in the mid-30s.ALTERNATE-SIDE PARKINGIn effect until Nov. 23 (Thanksgiving Day).The latest New York newsMark Makela for The New York TimesAmtrak service suspended: Amtrak train service on the line between New York City and Albany was again disrupted on Monday morning because of structural issues in a parking garage above the tracks in Midtown Manhattan.High school opt-out: New York could soon stop requiring many high school students to take Regents exams to earn a diploma, a major step in a sweeping overhaul of the state’s graduation system.Leaving Congress early: Representative Brian Higgins, who has spent 19 years in the House from a district that includes Buffalo and Niagara Falls, announced that he would step down in February, before his term ends. He called the Republican leadership of the House “the poster child for dysfunction right now.”Maryanne Trump Barry dies: The former federal judge was an older sister of Donald Trump and served as both his protector and his critic throughout their lives. She was 86.Donald Trump Jr., back on the witness standErin Schaff/The New York TimesDonald Trump Jr., the former president’s eldest son, made a return appearance to testify in the civil fraud case against his father and the family business.He talked in bursts of hyperbole and platitudes. He described his father as a “visionary” and “an artist with real estate” who “creates things that other people would never envision.” He praised amenities including the Central Park views from Trump Tower and the vaults inside the company’s 40 Wall Street building.His testimony was intended to illustrate a key defense claim: The Trump holdings are extremely valuable, and the company’s annual financial statements, if anything, underrate them.New York’s attorney general, Letitia James, has accused the former president and other defendants, including Donald Jr. and his brother Eric, of fraudulently inflating the value of assets to obtain favorable loans and insurance deals. Donald Jr., in his first appearance on Nov. 1, testified that he had no direct involvement in the annual financial statements that Justice Arthur Engoron has already ruled were fraudulent.At times during the trial, Engoron has been impatient with the Trumps and their lawyers, particularly over responses he deemed rambling or indirect. But when lawyers from James’s team raised objections during Donald Jr.’s testimony on Monday, Engoron waved them aside. “Let him go ahead and talk about how great the Trump Organization is,” Engoron said at one point.Later in the day the judge told Donald Jr. to speak more slowly. “We like the enthusiasm, but try to eliminate the speed,” Engoron said.Donald Jr., who led off the family’s rebuttal to James’s accusations, was shown dozens of images of luxury properties — a deliberate contrast to the spreadsheets and emails that James’s team presented as it laid out its case.Trump talked about how the company had turned around moribund assets, including the Wollman Rink in Central Park and 40 Wall Street in Lower Manhattan. In each case, Trump said the properties had fallen into disrepair and that no one had seen their potential — no one but his father.The company, however, no longer manages the ice rink. New York City moved to cut ties with the former president after the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol. The Trumps also recently sold their lease on a public golf course in the Bronx, which did not stop the defense from playing a tourism video for the property during on Monday.As for 40 Wall Street, James says that the Trumps artificially inflated the value of the property, a 927-foot neo-Gothic tower, in part by claiming to have signed tenants who had yet to commit. METROPOLITAN diaryQuite a rideDear Diary:We were running late to meet friends for dinner at a restaurant in the West 50s.There were no taxis in sight, and the closest subway station was several blocks away. So we hopped into a pedicab and wove off through the early evening theater-district traffic.Eleven hair-raising minutes later, we arrived at the restaurant, almost on time.I tried to pay the driver with a credit card, but his card reader malfunctioned and couldn’t process the transaction. I gave him cash instead.A short time later, as we finished our pre-dinner cocktails, the hostess approached our table and asked if we had arrived in a pedicab. The driver, she said, was there and wanted to talk to me.He was waiting when I got to the front door. He said his card reader had started working again and that it had somehow processed my payment.He was there to give me my cash back.— Tom LippmanIllustrated by Agnes Lee. Send submissions here and read more Metropolitan Diary here.Glad we could get together here. See you tomorrow. — J.B.P.S. Here’s today’s Mini Crossword and Spelling Bee. You can find all our puzzles here.Geordon Wollner and Ed Shanahan contributed to New York Today. You can reach the team at nytoday@nytimes.com.Sign up here to get this newsletter in your inbox. More

  • in

    At the U.S. Open, the Dwindling Ranks Leave Space and a Solitary Vibe

    It happens every year. Tennis players, by the hundreds, disappear from Flushing Meadows Corona Park.They arrive with hopes of remaining there at least two weeks, but every two days about half of them vanish until their ranks dwindle to a small, select handful. They walk the eerily quiet back halls, lounges and locker rooms of Arthur Ashe Stadium, tennis’ largest venue, nearly alone. The same phenomenon happens in London, Paris and Melbourne, Australia, each year, until eventually there are only two left to share a giant locker room, player restaurant and court.The Hall of Famer Chris Evert felt that blissful solitude 34 times in Grand Slam singles events, and won 18 of them. The goal is obviously to win their survivor game, but it is still a strange feeling.“It’s lonely and there’s pressure knowing it means you’re the last two women standing,” Evert said, adding, “There are pleasantries and small talk. You don’t want them to see you’re nervous, but you are.”When each of the four major tournaments begins, the many player areas are teeming with competitors, plus their coaches, agents, trainers, family members and hitting partners. It is difficult to get a table in the player restaurant. Preferred times for a practice court or session with the athletic trainer can be hard to come by. People are bumping into one another, stepping over equipment bags, waiting for someone to move so they can reach their locker.“At the beginning, it’s very hectic,” said Andy Murray, who has played in 11 major finals and won three, including the U.S. Open in 2012. “There’s a lot of hustle and bustle.”Even before the first day of the main draw, there are 128 women and 128 men competing in the qualifying rounds, while scores more show up to begin practicing. When the first Monday of the main draw finally hits, it’s a tennis circus. Each locker room at the U.S. Open has roughly 375 lockers, and in the early days all are in use.Space on the practice courts goes from scarce to ample.Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesHiroko Masuike/The New York TimesGradually, some of the qualifiers lose and leave, but their spaces are handed over to newly arriving doubles players. Each contestant is allowed one additional person in the locker room, and past champions get two, and sometimes three as the event proceeds.“The first few days it’s crazy,” said Stan Wawrinka, who has reached four major finals and won three, including the 2016 U.S. Open. “The player restaurant is packed, you can’t find a table. It’s so noisy. I’m always trying to stay focused with my team and because of that, I don’t stay on site.”Then the cull begins. After two days, half the singles players have been eliminated. Two days after that, the herd is halved again, and so on. The same happens with the doubles teams and wheelchair players (Juniors have a different locker room, but they and their family members are allowed in the common players areas and restaurants).Day by day it gets quieter, until finally, after two weeks, there are just two left. Murray, like Evert, is a gregarious sort and enjoys the company of others. Roger Federer was known to be one of the livelier players in the locker room, too.Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesHiroko Masuike/The New York TimesBut the goal is to be the last one alive in this “Squid Game,” and sometimes the isolation adds to the pressure. Before his U.S. Open final against Novak Djokovic in 2012, Murray practiced with his team, but they left him alone in the locker room to go eat while he prepared for his match.“It’s a huge locker room with no one else in there,” Murray recalled. “I remember feeling like I was incredibly nervous, and I wanted some company. At that time, I was still quite young, and I didn’t want to tell them I was nervous. I called my psychologist at the time, and she didn’t answer her phone. I felt really nervous just being in there on my own.”It turned out fine, as Murray won his first major title, but the loneliness is something with which the best players must grapple. Those who revel in solitude, like Pete Sampras, thrived on it. In Steve Flink’s book, “Pete Sampras: Greatness Revisited,” Sampras said, “I loved it on the last week of Wimbledon when nobody was in the locker room. I am a lone wolf.”Tracy Austin went 2-0 in U.S. Open finals, beating Evert in 1978 and Martina Navratilova in 1981, and said there was always cordiality in the locker room before and after matches.Mixed doubles is down to just four players. Jessica Pegula, left, and Austin Krajicek will play for the title Saturday.Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesGetting a table in the players’ restaurant gets easier the deeper into the tournament. Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesShe described the first week of a major tournament as draining, as much from navigating all the different people and chaotic scenes, as from playing the matches. To reach the end, and see all her colleagues disappear, was energizing.“The solitude is great,” Austin said. “It means you made it to the end and you don’t have to deal with whether you are being social or not. All your energy is focused into your match.”Every player handles it differently. Years ago, when there were fewer “teams” of coaches, agents, physios and advisers, players had more direct interaction, even when they were about to face one another. Evonne Goolagong Cawley sang in locker rooms before finals. Navratilova usually shared her food with Evert.Such collegiality is unheard-of in hockey, football, soccer and other sports, where teams do not dress in the same locker rooms. Golfers do, but that sport is not defined by one-on-one competition, as tennis is. In the same room, tennis players see when their opponent stretches, where they get taped, what muscles they ask the trainer to focus on.“You’re peripherally aware of your opponent and their moves getting ready for the match,” Evert said. “There’s definitely stress in the air and a finality of the moment. We are not one of many matches, we are the match. You are trying to not think about your opponent, but you wonder if they’re nervous, confident, relaxed.”For many players, the end of the first week, when more than 100 players in each draw have been eliminated, marks a turning point. There are still enough people around to have some social interaction, but the throngs have subsided and there is space to think and work.“The first week is the most stressful,” said Stefanos Tsitsipas, who has played in two major singles finals. “My favorite period of the Grand Slam is when the second week kicks in and everything starts to mellow down and become much quieter and more human, in a way.”Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesHiroko Masuike/The New York TimesEric Butorac, a former tour professional, now works as a player liaison for the United States Tennis Association. He is in and out of the men’s locker room every day. He described how attendants hand out locker assignments, with preference to past champions, but they also tend to group countrymen together.Federer, Djokovic and Rafael Nadal were in so many finals over the last 20 years that eventually the locker room would become their own.“The Americans have this corner, the Spanish are here, the French are here,” Butorac said.“You get toward the end of a tournament and it’s like, Novak is around the corner to the left, Rafa is always in the back right, Roger’s is the second from the end over here.”“Going into the restaurant was extremely lonely,” Eric Butorac said of the final days of a tournament. Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesThe player restaurant, pulsating with activity in the first week, gradually thins until only the finalists and their teams remain. Nadal and Federer used to relax in the restaurant before finals, playing games with members of their teams, and people knew to give them space. Butorac has been there, too. He reached the men’s doubles final at the 2014 Australian Open, and also warmed up Federer before his semifinal with Nadal.“Going into the restaurant was extremely lonely,” he said. “It was me, my one coach, my partner and his one coach. Federer was way down there and there were 30 empty tables between us. It was actually an eerily lonely feeling to be the last one standing. On TV it’s a big spectacle, but it has an odd feeling to it.”At the U.S. Open, the player garden turns into a desolate patio. The five practice courts, which were overcrowded at the beginning of play, are mostly empty. During the men’s final — the last event of the tournament — the hallways are nearly empty, other than security personnel. The other courts on the grounds are vacant. Even with Ashe packed, it is still the smallest overall attendance of the event, as only a handful of fans watch the big screen from the courtyard.“I love it,” said Daniil Medvedev, who won the U.S. Open in 2021 and has played in three other major finals. “That final Sunday is the best. It’s only you, his team and your team. I don’t feel lonely. If you want to win, you have to be alone at the end.” More

  • in

    Ecuavoley, Anyone? Sport of Ecuador Thrives in Shadow of US Open.

    Each summer, Flushing Meadows Corona Park in Queens hosts one of the most distinct, continually functioning sporting events in New York City. It features hundreds of players hitting balls, delicious food on offer and spectators sipping drinks while soaking in the entertainment. And on the other side of a fence, there is also a tennis tournament.For virtually as long as the U.S. Open has been held at its current site, families, mostly immigrants from Ecuador, have made the surrounding parkland and parking lots home to their own kind of championships.Their game is known to many as ecuavoley, a brand of three-a-side volleyball believed to have originated in Ecuador, where many consider it a national sport alongside soccer. It is also one of the primary activities in this corner of New York.“This is my game,” Miguel Tenecela, 41, an electrician from Corona, Queens, said between games. “It is in my blood.”Ecuavoley, anyone? An Ecuadorean game that resembles volleyball, ecuavoley is played in Flushing Meadows Corona Park in Queens, near the site of the U.S. Open. The games are lively, and sometimes bets are wagered.Because of its diversity, Queens is sometimes called the world’s borough, but some areas enjoy a pronounced Ecuadorean flavor. Some estimate the number of people in Queens originally from the Andean country at well over 100,000, with many concentrated in Corona, the neighborhood just west of the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. And as it is with the U.S. Open, the park is where they showcase their favored sport.Last weekend, Tenecela and many of his friends and family members gathered, as they often do, for hours of ecuavoley, also called voley or boley, a game with Andean roots dating to the 19th century. On Friday, Yarina’s “Rosalia-Ecuador” pumped from a speaker as barbecue grills billowed savory smoke from under the many red and blue canopies surrounding the playing courts.People laughed, children darted around on bicycles and scooters, young parents — including some women in traditional Andean clothing — pushed baby carriages, and players hustled and perspired as spectators cheered. At night, portable lights were hoisted into tree branches, powered by batteries and generators, and money changed hands, the wagering adding some sizzle to the heated competition.Watermelon, mango and grilled chicken are among the foods on offer in the park.Mostly on weekends in the summer, dozens of courts are lined out by thin ropes anchored into the dirt by metal spikes. The courts are carefully placed alongside the New York Hall of Science, near where many tennis fans park their cars before entering the U.S. Open. Some of the tennis enthusiasts glance at the festivities on their walk to the stadiums and see scores of players, many wearing the jerseys of Ecuador’s national soccer team or their favorite club teams, pushing large, highly inflated soccer balls over thin nets.Metal spikes keep the court lines in place, and scores are kept on homemade devices.The ecuavoley games form a parallel universe to the professional tennis being played nearby.At least twice as many canopies, courts and people — ecuavoley and soccer players, spectators and picnickers — were spread across other areas of the park on Sunday, at least a few thousand in all, a parallel sporting universe to the trendier tennis championships on the other side of the tall fences.At night, the ecuavoley courts are lit by portable lights affixed to branches and run by batteries or generators.Years ago, the game was played almost entirely by immigrants from Ecuador. But as people with backgrounds from other countries, like Peru, Mexico and Colombia, saw their Ecuadorean neighbors play the game, some joined. On Sunday, a large Mexican flag was draped over one of the tents. But the vast majority of players last weekend were from places like Cuenca and Chimborazo in Ecuador.“It is very important for our community,” said Arnold Saquipulla, a welder who is from near Cuenca and has been playing ecuavoley in the park for 20 years. “People work hard. This is what we love to do to relax. It keeps us connected.”Food vendors set up shop on weekends to cater to the large crowds.The sport has been especially important for the community after the early weeks of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020 ravaged Corona, Elmhurst and other parts of Queens. One in every two people in the neighborhood was diagnosed with Covid-19, according to the city health department, and one in every 160 residents died from it in that area. Many were friends of Teresa Benitez and her family, longtime ecuavoley participants from Corona.“We lost maybe 200 people we knew from here, people who came here to play volleyball with us,” said Benitez, a retail worker. “There was a time I was afraid to look at my phone. I did not want to see another text about someone who was gone. It was terrible.”“Now,” she added, spreading her arms to indicate the entire area of play, “we make sure we enjoy all of this.”During the U.S. Open each year, some minor restrictions are imposed, Benitez said. Some areas are lost to temporary parking lots, and a heightened police and security presence can sometimes limit movement. Still, the games go on.“It’s only a couple of weeks,” Benitez said. “You have to share. It’s the fair thing.”Benitez came to New York from Cuenca in 1982 at age 11 with her family, including her younger sister, Blanca. Back then, people played their special brand of volleyball close to the Willets Point-Shea Stadium subway station on the No. 7 line. Gradually it has grown and moved to other locations nearby.Most of the players are men, but Benitez said her father encouraged her and Blanca to play sports, too, and she passed that on to her children. She loves playing soccer the most, as does her daughter Adriana Tito, a nursing student. Tito won her league championship game in soccer on Sunday morning, then went to the park to play ecuavoley with her mother, father, aunt and family friends. Her knees were scarred and bloodied from both games.“I hate losing,” Tito said with a laugh. “I’ll do whatever it takes to win.”With three players per side, each team is allowed to touch the ball only three times before sending it over the net, which is higher and thinner (more like a banner) than an ordinary volleyball net. Players may carry the ball in their hands a bit longer than in traditional volleyball. The large, hard ball takes its toll on arms and wrists.“When you start playing in the spring, after a long winter with no playing, it can hurt a lot,” said Segundo Roque, 42, a construction worker, who is also originally from near Cuenca. “Now I can only play about six games, then it is too much on the arms.”Games are usually divided into sets of 10 or 12 points, and the first team to win two sets takes the match. On rare occasions, teams stop after one or two sets, which is called medio pollo, or half chicken — a dodgy tactic employed to avoid losing a bet. Tenecela, the electrician, was noticeably sour after an opposing team pulled a medio pollo at one set apiece.“I don’t like playing against people like that,” he sneered. “It’s not the right spirit.”Of course, not everyone shares that passion for ecuavoley. Soccer is fiercely contested across the park, and that is the game that Luis Cueva, 51, prefers.“For me, the volleyball is boring,” said Cueva, a construction worker. “But so many people love it.” More

  • in

    Why Are So Many Players Getting Sick at the U.S. Open?

    Ons Jabeur has won two rounds despite having flu symptoms, but Dominic Thiem was forced to retire from his second-round match with an illness.Early in the second set of her second-round match on Thursday night, a ball bounced just past Ons Jabeur’s reach, and she lost the point, throwing her arms up in exasperation.On any normal day, Jabeur, the No. 5 seed, would probably have reached the ball in time to return it down the line, but she has been playing while sick.Jabeur, who reached the U.S. Open final last year, is among several players who have had to contend with an illness of some sort at this year’s tournament.Dominic Thiem of Austria retired in the second set of his second-round match, doubled over at the net with what appeared to be a stomach-related issue. Emil Ruusuvuori withdrew from the tournament before his first-round match, citing an unspecified illness. Tennys Sandgren, who failed to advance out of the qualifiers, wrote on X, formerly known as Twitter, that he became ill after returning home from the tournament.“I got the us open bug,” he said in a separate post, adding, “in a way still feels like I’m in the tournament but at home.”It’s not just players. The ESPN commentator John McEnroe said on Tuesday that he had tested positive for the coronavirus after feeling unwell.It is unclear whether all of the players have the same illness, or whether their cases are connected, but something has been going around the U.S. Open.Hubert Hurkacz with U.S. Open medical staff during a timeout in his second-round match on Thursday.Peter Foley/EPA, via ShutterstockHubert Hurkacz seemed to struggle during his second-round match on Thursday, when he was upset by Jack Draper of Britain. During the match, medical staff came out to treat Hurkacz for what did not appear to be a physical injury. Around the tennis grounds, sniffles and coughs can be heard, and some players have been toting tissues in their bags.The string of illnesses comes as a late-summer wave of coronavirus infections has been reported across the United States, with indications of a rise in cases in the Northeast and in the West.Illnesses are possible at any tournament, where players are often in close quarters and share facilities. But with players no longer required to test for Covid-19, it is difficult to determine the cause of the illnesses among them.Health protocols at the U.S. Open have become less stringent since 2020, when spectators were not allowed to attend the tournament and when players took to the empty courts in face masks.When fans were allowed to return in 2021, they were required to show proof of vaccination against the coronavirus. That requirement has since been dropped, and those attending the U.S. Open this year do not need to show proof of vaccination, provide a negative coronavirus test or wear masks.“I’m taking a lot of medicine,” Ons Jabeur said on Thursday after winning her second-round match despite being sick.Frank Franklin Ii/Associated PressAfter willing her way — just barely — to a first-round win, Jabeur said she had the flu. In her second-round match, she appeared to struggle again, coughing on court several times, including during her interview after beating the unseeded Czech player Linda Noskova in three sets.Jabeur said later in a news conference on Thursday that she had been sick for about a week.“I’m taking a lot of medicine,” she said, adding that she “basically took every medication” the U.S. Open doctors have.Jabeur said her stomach had been “fine,” but she noted that she knew other players had been struggling with stomach issues. She seemed to waver on whether she had the flu or something else.“I think I got a flu or something,” she said on Thursday night.It was unclear whether Jabeur, who plays her third-round match on Saturday against the No. 31 seed Marie Bouzkova of the Czech Republic, had taken a coronavirus test to rule out the possibility of an infection.“I’m a zombie because I have a flu,” she said. More

  • in

    In Tennis, a Higher Ranking Means Better Perks

    Higher-ranked players tend to get the perks, like the better practice courts. The lower-ranked must make do.Eric Butorac played in the doubles main draw at the United States Open from 2007 to 2016. He vividly recalls his warm-up sessions on practice courts that were closer to the nearby subway station than they were to Arthur Ashe Stadium in Queens.“We were lucky when we got to practice on those courts for any length of time,” said Butorac, now the director of player relations at the United States Tennis Association. “If we wanted a long practice we had to go off site completely, sometimes out to Long Island.”But Butorac, who reached the final in doubles at the 2014 Australian Open, never felt slighted.“I came from a small town in Minnesota and was just happy to be there,” Butorac said. “For me, it was more about gratitude than about feeling that others had been given more.”There has long been a hierarchy among tennis players, a distinction between the sport’s top players and everyone else. If Novak Djokovic, a three-time U.S. Open winner, wants to practice in Arthur Ashe for an extended amount of time, rather than outside the gates of the U.S.T.A. Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, he is given that privilege. So are the defending champions Iga Swiatek and Carlos Alcaraz.Top seeds typically practice and play most, if not all, of their matches on one of three premier courts — Ashe, Louis Armstrong or the Grandstand — which affords them a major advantage. Ashe and Armstrong have retractable roofs, so by playing there, they get to avoid the disruption of rainouts, whereas the lower seeds, playing elsewhere, do not. Many players, of all ranks, also train on practice courts just outside Ashe, where fans can watch from courtside stands.Novak Djokovic practicing in Arthur Ashe Stadium before the 2020 U.S. Open. Djokovic has won the Open three times, and those wins have brought perks, like access to premiere courts for practice and matches.for The New York TimesBut for low-ranked players, doubles specialists and players who have gained entry by advancing through a qualifying tournament, finding quality courts to get ready for their matches can often prove challenging. Sometimes, less-accomplished players will arrange to practice with bigger names just so that they can share the more coveted courts.“When you’re playing the U.S. Open, it’s good to practice with Frances there,” joked 17th-ranked Hubert Hurkacz, referring to Frances Tiafoe, one of last year’s semifinalists.Many players agree that there is a have-versus-have-not culture in the sport. John Millman, who was ranked No. 33 in 2018, but is now at No. 326, wrote in an article, published in May on the Australian website news.com.au, that at some tournaments he received fewer tennis balls to practice with than high-rated players did.“Those new balls are being chased around by the big support teams that have received extra accreditation from the tournament,” said Millman, who also wrote that, in addition to being able to bring in more staff to help them during practice, bigger names are given the opportunity to book practice courts first. They then choose the more coveted earlier-morning time slots, so they can finish early.Alizé Cornet playing during this year’s Wimbledon. Cornet noted that, when she played on a featured court at a major, versus an outside court, she received more tickets to give to family and friends.Mike Hewitt/Getty ImagesAlizé Cornet, ranked No. 11 in 2009 but now at No. 65, complained at Wimbledon that when she played on a featured court at a major versus an outside court, she was allocated many more tickets to give away to family and friends.“I’ve been almost top-10, I’ve been [ranked] 30 and I’ve been 90,” said Cornet, 33. “I definitely felt a little different when I was a seeded player at the Slam, but that’s how society works. The best you are, the more advantage you get.”Taylor Fritz, the No. 1 ranked American male and No. 9 in the world, sees bigger differences at small tournaments where it is customary for top seeds to be gifted luxurious hotel accommodations and more desirable match times.“Yeah, I think there are slight advantages, but I also believe that the players that get the advantages have earned them,” Fritz said.According to John Tobias, executive vice president at GSE Worldwide, a marketing and management company that represents top tennis players, many of them are given cars for their entourages, while other players and their friends, family and fans are relegated to tournament shuttle buses.Some players rely on accommodations provided at tournament hotels, while Tobias is often able to negotiate deals for his star athletes with upscale hotels that provide free suites in exchange for promotional appearances or mentions on social media.Cameron Norrie, Britain’s No. 1 player, thinks it’s funny that the better he performs, the less he has to pay for. After reaching the semifinals at Wimbledon last year, Norrie said that he was offered free coffee by his local barista and even had his dry-cleaning bill forgiven, even though he earned more than $600,000 in prize money for that Wimbledon alone.Many players agreed that perks for performance is a fair exchange. It’s when players are denied equal opportunities to prepare for tournaments that the situation becomes sticky.“This is a topic that has been going around for a long time,” said Daniel Vallverdu, Grigor Dimitrov’s coach and a former coaches’ representative on the ATP Player Council. “My feeling is that to get to the top you have to go through what the other guys went through. Everyone has the opportunity to go down the same path, to start from the bottom, to make it to the top or not. And those top players are doing a lot more for the events than the lower-ranked guys in terms of media commitments, sponsorship commitments and tickets sales, so you have to incentivize them to come.John Millman serving during a match at the 2022 U.S. Open. Millman wrote that top seeds are often given extra accreditation for their support teams, and the chance to book practice courts first. Mike Stobe/Getty Images“But when it comes to the opportunity to prepare, like access to the right gym, getting enough hours of practice, that’s where it should be as equal as possible,” Vallverdu added. “Anything that influences preparation, and that influences performance, should be very equal.”The U.S.T.A. is working to give equitable enhancements to all players at the U.S. Open. In addition to providing creature comforts such as recovery rooms and nap rooms, calming red-light therapy and virtual reality games, the association is offering new initiatives this year for players, including an additional free hotel room for a players’ coach or family member or a $600 per diem if players opt to find their own housing. All players’ and coaches’ meals on site are also covered by the U.S.T.A.The U.S.T.A. also gives all players competing at the Open a $1,000 air travel stipend and $150 to cover airport expenses, as well as five free racket stringings for every day a player has a match. There is also a new app that allows competitors to secure transportation, practice courts, meal allowances and match tickets. Coaches, who are now allowed to give advice during matches, are being given tablets that track match stats.“There’s no hierarchy in this situation,” said Butorac, who, as director of player relations for the U.S.T.A., also offers a suite to all players where they can pick out Open logo clothing, headphones or even a Tiffany bracelet.“This program is really geared toward players ranked No. 70 to 80,” he said. “The idea here is they won’t have to spend any money here, and they can take all of their prize money home with them.”Prize money this year has also been increased by more than 8 percent over last year with the men’s and women’s singles champions each earning $3 million and first-round losers in the singles tournament taking home $81,500. This year marks the 50th anniversary of equal prize money being awarded to men and women at the Open.Stan Wawrinka, a former U.S., Australian and French Open champion once ranked No. 3 in the world before injuries dropped him out of the top 300, knows the vagaries of being lower-ranked.“Of course, you have been through it differently when you’re at the top of the game and when you’re down in the ranking,” said Wawrinka, now No. 49. “That’s normal, and that’s how it is. And it’s always going to be like that.“I always believe it doesn’t matter where I am in the ranking,” Wawrinka added. “It doesn’t matter what court I’m playing on. Doesn’t matter where I have to stay. It’s always going to be special to be in a Grand Slam.” More

  • in

    When Pelé Took New York by Storm

    In August 1967, it was hard to imagine that Americans might get interested in soccer. Then Pelé played at Yankee Stadium.It was August 1967. The Yankees were languishing near the bottom of the standings, their great years behind them. The Mets had not yet become the Miracle Mets. Still, it was hard to imagine then that a soccer player would capture a large measure of New York sports fans — if not the entire United States.But there he was, all of 5 feet 8 inches and 145 pounds. Pelé. We in the sportswriting business had heard of him, of course. He had led Brazil to two World Cup titles. We had even seen him play in New York the year before.But this was soccer. Although played in some neighborhoods of the Bronx, Queens or Brooklyn where immigrants brought it from home, it had not yet widely taken hold across the land.In the Sheraton-Atlantic Hotel, on Broadway and 34th Street, Pelé was holding a news conference. A day later, his team from Brazil, Santos, was to meet Inter of Milan at Yankee Stadium. A year earlier, Pelé had played in a boisterous match at Randalls Island, where fans ran from the stands onto the field to protest a referee’s call.Now, there were rumors that promoters were thinking of expanding soccer in the States by starting a league, and what better place to start, what better athlete to help jump-start it, than Pelé, known as the “Black Pearl”?A South American newspaper reporter asked the first question.“Honorable Sir,” he began.And I realized something different was happening here.“Honorable Sir”? I don’t think anyone addressed even Willie Mays as “Honorable Sir.” Obviously, this was not your typical American athlete. (Mays, by the way, was the highest paid baseball player at the time at $125,000 a year. Pelé was earning $200,000 for Santos).The foreign reporters continued to ask their questions, a beatific expression over their faces as they looked at this graciously smiling fellow who was deemed a national treasure by Brazil.That’s right, a national treasure, making him officially something like the Statue of Liberty. By Brazilian law, he could not be traded to another team out of the country.Everything about him was fascinating, starting with his name. A Brazilian reporter told me that in São Paulo they call street soccer “pelada”; he was such a symbol of the game that he got the nickname Pelé. (Pelé himself, though, offered several possible explanations for the nickname in his autobiography, but most probably it was a derivation of a player named Bilé whom he had admired as a boy.)Pelé, 26 at the time, seemed quite comfortable talking with the international press before appearing at America’s most famous stadium. He spoke about his far-flung business interests, his 7-month-old daughter.More than 15,000 tickets were sold in advance of the game. What would people see? What did this unassuming man do that would make Americans interested in soccer? There were clues. In his game the year before, when the second half began, fans ran onto the field. A woman kissed Pelé. Other fans fought with some of the players. It was a chaotic scene.Yet, as I watched, I understood how it came to be known as the beautiful game. And I recalled my first time with a soccer ball, at City College of New York. Like most New York kids, I had played baseball, stickball in the streets, basketball in the gyms and outside courts of the local schools.But when I started to kick the soccer ball, there was a freedom I felt that I hadn’t gotten even from baseball. And in soccer, you are always in the game. You are always moving. You never stop — well, almost never. The game goes on and on and you’re always in it.And now, all these years after college, as I watched Pelé at Yankee Stadium and listened to the full-throated fans hollering in Portuguese — there was a sizable Brazilian population in New York — I understood why Pelé had become a national treasure.He was injured near halftime when three Inter players surrounded him and one tripped him. Pelé sat out the second half.No matter. There were 37,063 fans at the game, then the third highest for a soccer match in the United States.Within a few years, big-league soccer came to America, and not just as a fad. And, of course, Pelé came with it, bringing his big smile, his incredible upside-down and backward kicks and his boyish enthusiasm for the sport.He showed Americans why soccer was the beautiful game. More