More stories

  • in

    Laver Cup: Tennis Players Love the Team Spirit

    The Laver Cup pits Europe against the rest of the world, and players love being picked for one of its teams.There is an adage that says there is no “I” in “team.” It implies that those who compete in group sports are expected to forsake their independence for the greater good.In tennis, the “I” means individual, as in “individual sport,” which tennis surely is. There is only one singles winner at every tournament or, in the case of the recent U.S. Open, one man and one woman out of an original field of nearly 500 competitors in the qualifying and main draws.But in many ways, tennis has also become a team sport. Team competitions, like this week’s Laver Cup in Berlin, take solo performers and thrust them together for a week, enabling them to become practice compatriots, doubles partners and, most important, cheerleaders.“I think it’s special having the best players on the planet on the same team or competing against each other, especially when you don’t want to let each other down,” said Alexander Zverev in an interview on the eve of the U.S. Open. “That’s what makes Laver Cup unique and that’s why you see everybody compete so hard.”John McEnroe, far right, and other members of Team World celebrate the victory of their player Frances Tiafoe over Team Europe’s Stefanos Tsitsipas at the 2022 Laver Cup.Julian Finney/Getty Images for Laver CupZverev is the lone German on Team Europe alongside Carlos Alcaraz from Spain, the Russian Daniil Medvedev, the Norwegian Casper Ruud, Stefanos Tsitsipas from Greece and Grigor Dimitrov of Bulgaria, who takes the place of Rafael Nadal who withdrew last week because he is still rehabilitating from injuries. Team World comprises the Americans Taylor Fritz, Frances Tiafoe and Ben Shelton, as well as the Australian Thanasi Kokkinakis, Alejandro Tabilo from Chile and Francisco Cerúndolo from Argentina. Kokkinakis and Cerúndolo are late replacements for two injured players, Tommy Paul and Alex de Minaur. The captains, former rivals Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe, are in their final year leading Team Europe and Team World.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

    Amid U.S. Open Fanfare, U.S.T.A. Fights Questions of Its Handling of Sexual Abuse

    Kylie McKenzie accused a U.S.T.A. coach of inappropriately touching her when she was 19. In depositions, the organization has questioned her sexual history.For several months, the United States Tennis Association has positioned this year’s U.S. Open as a key moment to celebrate its 50-year record of leadership on women’s equity and empowerment, tied to its payment of equal prize money to its top players.At the same time, it has been litigating its handling of accusations of sexual assault made by a female player who worked with a male coach at the U.S.T.A.’s marquee training center in Florida, with depositions that have included detailed questioning about the woman’s sexual history.Kylie McKenzie, a 24-year-old from Arizona who was once one of the most promising junior players in the country, sued the U.S.T.A. last year, claiming the organization had failed to protect her from a coach who inappropriately touched her after a practice in 2018, when she was 19 and he was 34.Attempts to mediate a settlement have not been successful, prompting lawyers to begin to depose witnesses as they prepare for a possible trial.During those depositions, a lawyer for the U.S.T.A. asked McKenzie about how many sexual partners she had had before the incident, about medications she had taken to treat anxiety and depression, and about the nature of her discussions with her therapist.The lawyer asked the player’s mother, Kathleen McKenzie, whether she knew that her daughter had taken birth control pills and a morning-after pill.The types of questions, though common in lawsuits centered on sexual abuse, have been widely criticized by advocates for victims, who say they discourage women from coming forward when they are abused.“This is what always happens,” said Pam Shriver, a former player and television commentator who was deposed in the case as a witness for McKenzie and who has worked with the U.S.T.A. on and off for years.In a statement, Chris Widmaier, chief spokesman for the U.S.T.A., said the organization had “no intention of revictimizing or shaming” McKenzie in any way. “We were given inconsistent testimony and were simply seeking to determine which version was true,” he said.Shriver testified that U.S.T.A.’s top lawyer, Staciellen Mischel, last year warned her to “be careful” about her public statements on sexual abuse in tennis. Shriver has become an ally of McKenzie’s since going public with her own story of abuse last year in an interview with The New York Times.When a lawyer representing the U.S.T.A. in the McKenzie case asked Shriver whether anyone at the U.S.T.A. had discouraged her from speaking out about sexual abuse, she responded: “Depends how you interpret the conversation from Staciellen. Part of my interpretation was that I needed to be careful. And in that interpretation, meaning don’t say too much.”When asked about Mischel’s conversation with Shriver, Widmaier said the organization had deep sympathy for Shriver. “We would never stifle anyone from telling her story,” he said.McKenzie’s case stems from her work with a coach, Anibal Aranda, who worked at the U.S.T.A.’s center. The organization had supported her development since she was 12, and she had spent time training at its centers in California and Florida. McKenzie described an escalation of physical contact and isolation that made her uncomfortable. She initially thought that Aranda had different norms for physical contact because he had grown up in Paraguay before moving to the United States. Then, on Nov. 9, 2018, Aranda sat close to her on a bench after practice so that their legs were touching and then put his hand between her thighs, she said.McKenzie quickly reported the incident to friends, relatives, U.S.T.A. officials and law enforcement. The U.S.T.A. promptly suspended and then fired Aranda, who denied touching McKenzie inappropriately. A lengthy investigation by the U.S. Center for SafeSport, the organization tasked with investigating sexual and physical abuse claims in sports, found it “more likely than not” that Aranda had assaulted McKenzie. The police took a statement from McKenzie, stated there was probable cause for a charge of battery and then turned the evidence over to local prosecutors, who opted not to pursue a criminal case.Aranda did not return repeated messages seeking comment.McKenzie said she soon began to experience panic attacks and depression, which have hampered her attempts to progress in her sport.During the SafeSport investigation, a U.S.T.A. employee said that Aranda had groped her and touched her vagina over her clothes at a New York dance club around 2015. She did not disclose the incident to anyone at the time. The employee told SafeSport that after she learned about McKenzie’s accusations, she regretted not reporting her interaction with Aranda.Widmaier has said previously that the U.S.T.A. only learned about the accusations made by one of its employees toward Aranda after McKenzie reported her complaint to the authorities, and that it moved to fire Aranda immediately.McKenzie has spent the year playing in lower-tier tournaments while battling anxiety and depression. As of late last month, she was ranked 820th in the world.In April, weeks after she made the final of a tournament in Tunisia, she testified for seven hours in her pretrial deposition. Kevin Shaughnessy, a lawyer at BakerHostetler representing the U.S.T.A., asked her about the weeks leading up to the 2018 incident, and questioned why McKenzie did not report earlier instances of inappropriate touching by Aranda during workouts as he coached her on how to serve.McKenzie said that she did not expect Aranda’s behavior to escalate and that she did not expect to be pursued sexually. “I was naïve,” she said.Shaughnessy then asked her whether she had had a boyfriend previously, or if she had ever had a guy “come on” to her before. When McKenzie said she was not really involved with boys at the time, he asked about the number of sexual partners she had had and whether she had been intimate with a particular player at the training center.In July, Shaughnessy deposed McKenzie’s mother and asked whether she had been told by another U.S.T.A. coach when McKenzie was 14 that her social life was getting in the way of her tennis, and that she should have her phone taken away because she had kissed a boy. Kathleen McKenzie was also asked if her daughter had ever believed she was pregnant.Robert Allard, McKenzie’s lawyer and a specialist in representing victims of sexual assault in sports, said the U.S.T.A.’s questioning showed a strategy of “belittling, embarrassing and intimidating survivors.”Shriver, who has worked to support the U.S.T.A.’s efforts to increase participation and helped raise money for the organization and its foundation, said she was initially torn when Allard asked her to testify. However, she has made supporting tennis players who are assault victims a priority.“In the end, I feel a real pull to support and give some perspective to what it’s like to be a player and have a coaching situation not be professional,” Shriver said on Friday at the U.S. Open, where she was commentating for ESPN. “I feel like supporting young women who have been traumatized.” 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

    At the U.S. Open, It Feels Like the Fourth of July

    A decade or so ago, back when Tommy Paul, Taylor Fritz and Frances Tiafoe were rowdy teenagers raising hell at the United States Tennis Association dormitories in Florida, they dreamed that days like Sunday at the U.S. Open would eventually come.Coco Gauff and Ben Shelton were barely 10 years old back then, still figuring out how large a role tennis was going to play in their childhoods, though it was a safe bet it would be pretty large.Flash forward to Sunday at the U.S. Open, and those five players were at the center of what figured to be a daylong American tennis festival in the fourth round, a part of the tournament when, for so long, especially on the men’s side, players from Europe have filled the starring roles. Not on Sunday, when the year’s final Grand Slam tournament got down to serious business and the round of 16.With Ben Shelton facing Tommy Paul, it guaranteed an American would advance to the quarterfinals. It ended up being Shelton.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesThe schedule featured wall-to-wall red, white and blue; Black and white and mixed race players; players from wealthy families (Fritz), from more humble means (Shelton, Gauff, Paul), and one (Tiafoe) who started with almost nothing; some players with years of tour experience and one so raw (Shelton) that he needed to get a passport last year so he could leave the United States for the first time to play in the Australian Open.“We always believed this would happen,” said Martin Blackman, the general manager for player development at the U.S.T.A., who has known all five players since their early years. “But you never know when.”When Serena Williams, a majestic and groundbreaking figure in sports and culture for more than two decades, retired from pro tennis at this tournament last year, she left big questions about who might begin to fill the massive void she was leaving, especially in American tennis. Some pretty good hints arrived within days. Gauff and Tiafoe — charismatic figures with bright eyes and big smiles who play with equal parts heart, skill and athleticism — blazed into the deep end of the 2022 tournament, the quarterfinals for Gauff and the semifinals for Tiafoe.That was last year, though, and there was no guarantee that they or any of their compatriots would reproduce the magic of some of those days. Sunday represented a decent midpoint indicator.Looking at the draw in the middle of last week, Fritz’s eyes drifted to the quarter just above him, where Shelton, Paul and Tiafoe were crowded together. Some big names were out, and his people were still very much alive. Immediately he thought, “One of them is going to be in the semis,” and that was pretty cool.Paul won the third set after losing the first two, but he could not force a decisive fifth set.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesPaul and Shelton got the action rolling at noon Sunday in the opening match at Arthur Ashe Stadium. The stands were filling up more with every changeover, getting louder each time Shelton’s booming serve put up big numbers on the radar gun.Two adrenaline-fueled blasts clocked in at 149 miles per hour as he built a commanding two-set lead before Paul came alive with the crowd rallying behind him. The stadium was near its capacity of 23,000 by the time his last forehand sailed long. It wasn’t the outcome Paul wanted, but the match had its moments.Early on, he looked up at the video board and saw that he and his buddies were on the list of Americans left in the tournament. He let that sink in, those names from the dormitory hall, names that were there in the late rounds of the junior national tournaments in his teenage years.“We grew up all together,” Paul said shortly after the loss. “Kind of cool.”Every Grand Slam tournament crowd throws its weight behind its home-country players. At the Australian Open, the “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oy, Oy Oy!” chant is a constant refrain. French crowds break out in spontaneous renditions of “La Marseillaise.” At Wimbledon, Britons will pack a field court to urge on a junior player they have never heard of with the same vigor they offer Andy Murray.The U.S. Open crowd, by reputation the rowdiest and most indecorous of them all, does its boisterous best to get its own over the line.Shelton, 20, hugged Paul at the net wanting to hear just what full-throated screams from the biggest crowd he had ever played before might sound like. Hard to blame him on that front.Shelton played to the crowd after his victory. His next opponent, Frances Tiafoe, is something of a showman, too.Karsten Moran for The New York Times“Amazing atmosphere, felt the love all day,” he said on the court moments later.And it stayed that way as Gauff played against Caroline Wozniacki, a former world No. 1. Wozniacki is on the comeback trail after having two children and has long been a crowd favorite in New York.That said, she had never played Gauff on a day that felt like a flashback to a couple generations ago, back to the eras when American men and women always held the promise of becoming the class of the sport and were among its biggest stars. This was part tennis match, part revival meeting, with more screams of “Go Coco!” than anyone could count in a building that Gauff, who is just 19, figures to be making her home for the next decade.A slight complication, a welcome one for the hometown crowd, arose as 4 p.m. approached when Tiafoe strutted into Louis Armstrong Stadium to play Rinky Hijikata of Australia just as Gauff was finding her groove. Like a parent facing a choice between children, Blackman needed a plan.“First set with Coco, then over to Frances,” he said as he rushed through a hallway underneath the stadium.Coco Gauff faced Caroline Wozniacki, a former world No. 1 popular with fans, but still enjoyed a partisan crowd.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesSlight complication for Gauff, too, in the form of a late-second and early third-set wobble that had her hitting backhand after backhand into the middle of the net. Wozniacki surged into the lead, breaking Gauff’s serve in the first game of the third set. But Gauff and her 20,000 friends weren’t about to let that last for long, not on this day. With a slew of “Come ons!” and teeth clenches she reeled off the final six games, bulldozing her way back into the quarterfinals.“Had some chants going, which was really nice,” Gauff said later. “The crowd doesn’t really compare to any of the other Slams.”She won two of the three U.S. Open tuneup tournaments and, despite dropping sets in three of her first four singles matches, is brimming with confidence.“I’ve been in this position before,” said Gauff, a French Open finalist last year. “I can go even further.”Meanwhile, over on Armstrong, Tiafoe was cruising.If Ashe is American tennis’s grand cathedral, Armstrong is its party space, a 10,000-seat concrete box with an upper level of seating that seems to hang almost directly above the court and a retractable roof that keeps sound echoing up and down and all around even when open. And no one these days, other than Carlos Alcaraz, knows how to throw a party like Tiafoe, 25, who broke into the top 10 of the rankings for the first time earlier this year.Tiafoe defeated Rinky Hijikata in straight sets at Louis Armstrong Stadium before turning the court over to Taylor Fritz.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesThe drunker and more spirited the fans the better as far as he is concerned. He pumps his fists, shakes his racket, and even throws out the occasional tongue wag after those curling forehands and jumping two-handed backhands, to make it just how he likes it, with as many hollers of “Go Big Foe!” as he can wring from them. It’s how he has long believed American tennis should be, and part of the reason he is Paul’s favorite player to watch in the sport.Up next for Tiafoe is Shelton, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.“He’s going to come after me, and I’m going to come after him,” he said. “I plan on being in the semi.”Then it was Fritz’s turn, filling the early evening slot on Armstrong, and taking the court shortly after Tiafoe left it, against Dominic Stricker, 21, of Switzerland, one of the surprises of the tournament. Stricker had to win three matches in the qualifying tournament to get into the main draw and he upset Stefanos Tsitsipas, a two-time Grand Slam singles finalist, in the second round. He had already played 22 sets of tennis in New York, including two five-setters, before he hit his first ball against Fritz.Taylor Fritz ended the run Dominic Stricker made out of the qualifying tournament by beating him in straight sets on Sunday.Karsten Moran for The New York TimesMuch of the Tiafoe crowd filed down the stairs into the main plaza of Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. Waiting at the bottom were thousands more ready to take their place, Honey Deuces, Aperol spritzes, beers, poke bowls and fries in hand.Three American headliners had already moved on, and roughly three hours later Fritz had joined them, with a straight-sets win over Stricker, to make his second career Grand Slam singles quarterfinal, and his first since Wimbledon in 2022.“No other place I’d rather go on a run than here,” Fritz said.Madison Keys and Jessica Pegula were set to play each other in the fourth round Monday, and Peyton Stearns, out of Ohio and the University of Texas, was set to take on Marketa Vondrousova, this year’s Wimbledon champion. This home-country party was rolling on. More

  • in

    At the U.S. Open Tommy Paul Readies Himself for the Second Round

    After numerous misfires with his career, Paul, an American seeded 14th at the U.S. Open, finds himself as comfortable on the court as off it, and into the second round in Queens.The last time Tommy Paul needed an attitude adjustment, he had just flamed out of a small tournament in the Netherlands in the spring of 2022 in the most petulant way, and his coach had seen enough.Brad Stine, who guided Jim Courier to four Grand Slam singles titles and the world’s top ranking and coached several other top players of the past 20 years, is 64 years old and knows when a player has crossed the line from battling through a rough patch into behaving unprofessionally.For several weeks, he had watched Paul act like a child instead of a man in his mid-20s. During an opening-round match in Geneva that May, Paul had mocked someone sitting in the player box of his opponent, Tallon Griekspoor of the Netherlands. Paul thought the man was cheering too loudly. Another time, in the grass-court tournament in ’s Hertogenbosch, he had disrespected Brandon Nakashima, a fellow American, yelling that he should not have been losing to a player he felt he was much better than.Stine’s kids are grown and his bills are paid. He has been to tennis’ mountaintop. He doesn’t need the work. He needed to tell Paul exactly what he believed, and if their three-year player-coach relationship ended there, so be it.The coach Brad Stine gave Paul a reality check in 2022.Sandra Ruhaut/Icon Sport, via Getty Images“You’re embarrassing me,” Stine told Paul as they talked in a quiet spot at the tournament after the loss to Nakashima. Then he rattled off his complaints about Paul’s attitude and competitiveness during the previous month.Paul absorbed Stine’s words for a few moments before he spoke, then told Stine he didn’t disagree with anything he had said.Among the top American men, Frances Tiafoe, a 25-year-old son of immigrants from Sierra Leone whose run to the U.S. Open semifinals last year was electrifying, sucks up most of the oxygen these days. Taylor Fritz, the 25-year-old Californian, has the highest ranking among the group and last year won the BNP Paribas Open, the so-called fifth Slam. Sebastian Korda, the son of a Grand Slam singles champion, has the pedigree.But Paul, 26, who has a dangerous, all-court playing style, who likes to hold a rod and reel in his hands as much as (OK, maybe more than) a tennis racket, has arguably had the best season of them all.He is the only American man to make a semifinal of a Grand Slam tournament, falling to Novak Djokovic at the Australian Open, which Djokovic went on to win for a record 10th time. Paul’s ranking shot up to No. 13 this month, from No. 35 in January. He has given Carlos Alcaraz, the world No. 1, fits during the past month, beating him for the second time in his career in Toronto, then falling in three tight sets to him a week later in the Cincinnati suburbs.Paul, right, is the only American man this year to reach the semifinal of a Grand Slam tournament. He lost to Novak Djokovic, left, who went on to win a record 10th Australian Open title.Asanka Brendon Ratnayake/Associated PressThe rewards, including nearly $2 million in prize money, have begun rolling in. His agents at GSE Worldwide have gotten Paul new endorsement deals with Yonex, a racket manufacturer; De Bethune, the maker of his luxury watch; Motorola; IBM; Acorns, a financial management firm; and Celsius, a beverage maker. He appeared in a fashion photo spread in Vanity Fair, his hair slicked down and his body wrapped in a shiny overcoat.“Not really my thing,” said Paul, who is more suited to a trucker hat and a hoody than haute couture.This was the way it was supposed to go for Paul, who was almost always the best in his age group among American junior players. He won the French Open junior title in 2015. But then came a frustrating climb up the tennis ladder, years when Paul’s desire and commitment to his craft failed to match the talent that he had showcased from the time he was a small boy, and he learned the hard way that talent only gets a player so far.“He was the big fish in the little pond, and then he got out there and realized, these other players they’re better, and they’re working harder, too,” said his mother and first coach, Jill MacMillan, who was courtside for Paul’s four-set, first-round win over Stefano Travaglia of Italy on Monday. She and her husband live on a small farm in South Jersey, with two horses, eight sheep and various other animals.In talking about his journey later that night, Paul was philosophical.“I don’t think I ever really stopped believing,” he said. “I kind of knew that I could make it. I just didn’t really know how to do it.”Or if he really wanted to.Growing up in Greenville, N.C., where his mother and her ex-husband owned and operated a health club with some tennis courts, Paul received his first tennis racket from an older woman whom Paul and his siblings called Grandma Betty — she wasn’t their grandmother — when, he thinks, he was about 5 years old. He promptly went outside and started banging it against a tree. She followed him out and told him that wasn’t how he was supposed to use it.Paul and his older sister started spending every afternoon playing tennis at the health club. Beating his sister, who would go on to play collegiate tennis, was his earliest goal. MacMillan said that when Paul started playing — and winning — tournaments at age 6, he barely knew the rules or how to keep score. “He just loved to hit the ball.”That love never faded, even as Paul played plenty of baseball and basketball before focusing exclusively on tennis when he was about 13. Then tennis got serious and a little weird.He has vivid memories of seeing parents hitting their children for losing tournaments. His parents could not afford intensive private coaching, so Paul began to spend much of his time practicing at the United States Tennis Association’s training grounds in Florida. There were a lot of rules and a lot of coaches telling Paul what to do, such as to limit his time with friends and family. Sometimes he listened and followed the rules and practiced hard. Sometimes he didn’t. He still won plenty, so there weren’t many repercussions.He planned on attending the University of Georgia. But then he started winning lower tier pro tournaments and captured the junior title at the French Open. So instead of going to college he turned professional.Paul lost the support of the United States Tennis Association in part because of his behavior during the 2017 U.S. Open.Don Emmert/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesBig mistake. No agents wanted to represent him because of his reputation as a player with questionable commitment, Paul said. For the next two years, he was miserable. That misery boiled over at the 2017 U.S. Open, when the aftereffects of a night of indulgence after a first-round loss in singles led to a 6-0, 6-0 loss in a doubles match. A falling out with the U.S.T.A, ultimately resulting in his loss of support, ensued over the next several months.“That was a different life,” Paul said last week while sitting on a couch in a home in Southampton on Long Island, where he was a guest of the chairman of GSE, his agency.Paul said losing the support from the U.S.T.A. was the best thing that could have happened to him. Finally, he had to take responsibility for his future in tennis, hiring his own trainer and coach. He stopped going through the motions in the gym and on the practice court.“I wasn’t going to waste my investment,” he said.The biggest one came in 2019, when following a loss in the U.S. Open qualifying tournament, he asked Stine, whose main player was battling injuries, to evaluate his game.As he watched Paul play, Stine didn’t understand how such a gifted athlete could so often be off balance on the court. He gave him a list of 11 things to fix, everything from improving his footwork to developing a slice. He shared his “conversion theory,” that all it takes to completely shift the momentum of any game regardless of the score is winning three points in a row.“Do the math,” Stine said. He’s not wrong.When the coronavirus pandemic hit, Paul and his compatriots spent much of their time in Southern California, playing at the Los Angeles-area mansions of tennis enthusiasts. He was still getting used to feeling like he belonged.Paul has a 2-2 record against Carlos Alcaraz, who is currently the No. 1 men’s singles player in the world.Vaughn Ridley/Getty ImagesEight days before the U.S. Open, Paul was fishing for tuna off Long Island. His face lights up as he talks about the hourlong fight to land a 350-pounder too big to keep. He has yet to buy his own boat, but has been pricing them out. The next day he was on the court of another seaside mansion practicing for two hours with Diego Schwartzman of Argentina.“I want him to continue to have fun,” Stine said later at the mansion they were calling home for the pretournament week.Was Paul having fun? His eyes went to the sprawling lawn and the pool and backyard tennis court.“Look where we are,” he said. More

  • in

    The U.S. Open Is King of New York. Could It Do More for Queens?

    The U.S. Open tennis tournament will celebrate the 50th anniversary of equal prize money for men and women in the event, part of a legacy of equality and inclusion of which the Open is extremely proud. But many close neighbors of the U.S. Open have not always felt so included.On 111th Street and Roosevelt Avenue, in the shadow of the No. 7 train’s elevated tracks, thousands of people go about their business during the U.S. Open while having virtually no interaction with one of the most popular and profitable sporting events in the world.The U.S. Open employs about 7,000 seasonal workers from around New York each year.Kamal Alma and his family have owned the 111 Corona Discount & Candy Store, less than half a mile from Arthur Ashe Stadium, for over 40 years. Occasionally, during the week of qualifying and the two weeks of competition, some of the event’s temporary workers filter into Alma’s store. But he rarely sees tennis fans there and does not gain any noticeable uptick in business from the event. His children like tennis, but tickets for the main draw are too expensive.“Plus, I’m working all the time,” he said. “Who knows, maybe someday I’ll go.”The U.S. Open is one of New York City’s landmark events, drawing international attention to Queens while generating huge profits and employing about 7,000 seasonal workers from around New York. But for some, it could be a better neighbor.“We are happy it’s here,” said Donovan Richards, the Queens borough president. “It’s definitely an economic driver for the borough, for the city. But if it’s not benefiting the local community, what good is that for the people of Queens? When the three weeks is over, we’re still here.”Tommy Chan, owner of Tommy’s Doghouse, a food stand outside the U.S.T.A. Billie Jean King National Tennis Center.Richards said that he had just recently begun to dig deeper into how the U.S. Open engaged with the local community and that he planned to attend an event hosted by the United States Tennis Association on Tuesday to discuss those matters. He said he recognized and appreciated that the Open donated money to Flushing Meadows Corona Park, on which the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center sits in its 40-acre corner, and provided funds to enhance local community projects. He just wants to see more of it, commensurate with the huge sums produced by the event each year.“I look forward to sitting down with the leadership to really think about ways this partnership can benefit the fans, the tournament and the borough,” he said. “Not to say they don’t give support. We need to see that support ramped up to address inequities outside the park and in the park.”Since moving to the Corona and Flushing area from its previous location at the tony West Side Tennis Club in Forest Hills, Queens, the U.S. Open has sat in its corner of the park pumping out revenue for the nonprofit U.S.T.A., which pays the city a percentage in rent for the privilege. In 2022, the event raised $472 million and paid close to $5 million in rent. The U.S.T.A., which has paid its top executive more than $1 million in compensation, builds and pays for the infrastructure, including the stadiums.Many fans squeeze on to the No. 7 train to get to the tennis stadium.More than 888,000 spectators attended the U.S. Open last year, and at least that many are expected this year at an event that is in some ways an annual contrast of culture and class.Many fans will drive there on the crowded parkways and highways adjacent to the stadium. Some will ride the commuter rails from Manhattan, Long Island and New Jersey, and others will squeeze onto the No. 7 train from Grand Central Station. And when they have seen the last ball struck for the day, most will make their way back in the same fashion, without setting foot in the nearby streets and restaurants of Corona, Flushing or Jackson Heights or ambling into the adjacent park, where soccer and volleyball players mix with in-line skaters, joggers and picnickers.“We never lose sight of the fact that we are in a public park,” said Daniel Zausner, the National Tennis Center’s chief operating officer. “We want to be a bigger player in the community, always.”The U.S.T.A. offers free admission to a week of professional tennis during the qualifying tournament before the main draw, providing an opportunity to attract future fans.Spectators heading to the tennis center from the boardwalk bridge that connects to the No. 7 train and Citi Field, where the Mets play.Omar Minaya, the former general manager of the Mets baseball club and now a senior adviser for the Yankees, grew up in Corona just a few blocks from where the Open site is now. He and his friends played football and baseball in the park before the Open moved to Flushing Meadows in 1978, and boxing was a popular sport in Corona, too. Few of the kids played tennis. Minaya said he still saw a positive overall effect from the event but recognized that it was not for everyone.“It’s brought a lot of attention to Queens, and that’s good,” he said. “But most of the people that go to the Open, they aren’t going into Corona. It’s more of a corporate crowd than a local crowd.”Lew Sherr, the chief executive of the U.S.T.A., said economic activity from the Open filtered across the region, and he pointed to a decade-old study that put the annual economic impact of the tournament at $750 million for the New York City area. He estimated that a similar study now would double that figure.“Although the stadium sits less than a mile away, it has no connection,” Donovan Richards, the Queens borough president, said of the tournament’s physical relationship to its neighborhood.But in Corona and nearby Elmhurst, two areas devastated by the Covid-19 pandemic, many residents have little or no interaction with the U.S. Open.Carlos Inga owns the Super Star II food stand in Corona Plaza, just off Roosevelt Avenue and 103rd Street. He has lived in Queens for 20 years but has never been to the U.S. Open, nor have any of his friends, he said. Sometimes he will see employees wearing U.S. Open shirts and badges, but rarely any fans, unless they get off at the wrong subway stop by accident.“There is definitely a disconnect,” Richards, the borough president, said. “Although the stadium sits less than a mile away, it has no connection. Those are the questions we will be raising on Tuesday. The same goes for the airports and the new soccer stadium. How do they impact the neighborhood?”On 111th Avenue, 111 Corona Discount & Candy Store is less than half a mile from Arthur Ashe Stadium but rarely sees any foot traffic from the tournament.More than 40 percent of the 7,000 seasonal employees at the U.S. Open are from Queens.“I love working here,” said Yvette Varga, a regular seasonal maintenance worker at the Open, who is originally from Ozone Park in Queens but now lives in the Bronx. “We would always go to this park, and still, every year, we have at least one cookout here. So for me, it’s like home.”Some employees have not had such a favorable experience. In 2022, three employees accused a U.S. Open subcontractor of wage theft during the previous year’s event, and the funds were ultimately restored after Zausner’s intervention.“I wish I had known in September so I could have acted upon it then, instead of hearing about it 11 months later,” Zausner said.The No. 7 train runs above the roads leading to the U.S. Open.A freshly painted bench at the entrance of the tennis center.In 2019, Scott Stringer, the New York City comptroller at the time, charged that the National Tennis Center had underreported $31 million in revenue from 2014 to 2017 and therefore had underpaid rent by more than $300,000. The U.S.T.A., in a letter to the deputy comptroller dated Nov. 16, 2020, and obtained by The New York Times through a Freedom of Information Law request, concurred with a shortfall of $143,296.61 and paid it.The N.T.C. also donates funds for the upkeep of the park, but more attention seems to be focused closer to the tennis center, where park benches along the path surrounding the perimeter fence bore “wet paint” signs on Tuesday. Farther away, the paint was chipped off the benches and litter was more evident.“If you look, it’s not as nice as you move away from the stadium,” said Tina Chen, a Flushing resident and a senior at Yale University who was walking her dog, Coco, in the park. “I think it’s good to have the U.S. Open here, for sure. But maybe they could do more to fix up the rest of the area, too.”More than 888,000 spectators visited the U.S. Open during qualifying week and the two-week tournament last year. 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

    Billie Jean King on Victories Past, and the Battles to Come

    The tennis champion’s activism won equal pay for women at the 1973 U.S. Open. Now 79, she is still leading the fight for equity — in sports and beyond.The more Billie Jean King talked about the past, the more animated she became about the future.King, the 79-year-old grand champion of tennis and gender equity, said she wanted to see more investment in women’s sports. More teams. More leagues. More women owners. More racial diversity, more data, more access and more opportunities.She charged crosscourt from one topic to the next, not content to celebrate the history she had made; she was too busy creating the template for tomorrow.“Equal investment is the most important thing,” she said during a telephone interview from London, while attending this year’s Wimbledon. “If I talk to a C.E.O., I ask him, or her, or whoever, ‘Do you spend as much on women’s sports as men’s sports?’ That’s the magic question.”It always has been.This summer marks 50 years since the United States Open awarded equal prize money for men and women, becoming the first of the four Grand Slam tennis tournaments to offer it. King, who won 39 major titles, made that milestone possible with her relentless activism and by securing corporate sponsors behind the scenes.King celebrates after defeating Margaret Court in their women’s singles second-round match at Wimbledon in 1962. King went on to capture 20 Wimbledon titles.Central Press/Hulton Archive, via Getty ImagesOn the eve of the 2023 FIFA Women’s World Cup — set to showcase the rise of women’s soccer and the movement for equal pay, led by the U.S. Women’s National Team — King’s influence still ripples through the sports ecosystem.“She is working as hard today as she was 50 years ago,” said Stacey Allaster, the United States Tennis Association’s chief executive of professional tennis, and the first female director of the U.S. Open, said. “And she’s so focused, I would say possessed. She’s continuing to live by what she believes: that sport is for social change, and it’s not what you get, but what you give.”King and her wife, Ilana Kloss, who is also her longtime business partner, have invested in six sports. In June, it was announced that Billie Jean King Enterprises would help run a new six-team women’s ice hockey league starting in January along with the Los Angeles Dodgers’ majority owner, Mark Walter, and his wife, Kimbra Walter.“We believe this is transformational, and it’s a sport that hasn’t had the platform that we believe it needs,” said Kloss, 67, a former doubles champion from South Africa and the chief executive of BJK Enterprises.Although she admitted that the path to establishing a successful women’s hockey league has been a “long road” (one that’s littered with past failures), she applauded the Walters’ commitment to women’s sports. “That belief sends an incredible message to the rest of the investment community,” Kloss said.Flashback to 1970 when King and eight other players, outraged the men were earning more than eight times the prize money that the women were at one tournament, signed $1 contracts to form a offshoot professional women’s tennis tour. The women, known as the “original nine,” risked being banned by tennis officials, but the gambit worked. In 1973 at Wimbledon, King led players in a vote that created what is now called the Women’s Tennis Association.King speaking before the Senate education subcommittee in Washington in 1973. After Title IX was passed, King started the Women’s Sports Foundation to develop more sports opportunities for girls and women.Associated PressIt was a heady time for women’s sports. In 1972, Congress enacted Title IX, which prohibited sex discrimination in schools and thus led to the creation of sports programs that spawned a generation of female athletes. Against that backdrop, King, No. 1 in the world, won the 1972 singles titles at the French Open, Wimbledon and the U.S. Open.In New York, she was incensed to earn $10,000 — $15,000 less than the U.S. Open men’s champion, Ilie Nastase, did. King recalled how she met then with the tournament director Bill Talbert in a referees hut.Turning her chair to face him in the tiny space, she argued that a fan poll showed massive interest in women’s tennis. Then she revealed her ace: She had secured a sponsor — Bristol Myers’s “Ban” deodorant — to make up the difference in total prize money. Equal prize money became official in 1973.A few weeks after the 1973 U.S. Open, King crushed former No. 1 Bobby Riggs in the Battle of the Sexes spectacle that catapulted gender equality onto a world stage.“It’s hard to believe that 50 years have gone by — boink!” King said.This year’s U.S. Open, starting Aug. 28, will mark the equal prize money anniversary in multiple ways, including posters of King, an opening night tribute and an “equity lounge” on the site of the United States Open in Flushing, which in 2006 was renamed the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center.When she’s on the way to her office there, Allaster touches a sign bearing King’s motto: “Pressure is a Privilege.”Allaster, the previous chief of the WTA, said King was an “accessible leader,” not just for her, but for rookies and superstars alike. Allaster called Venus Williams a “modern-day Billie Jean King” for how, during her prime, Williams lobbied Wimbledon officials — and by extension the French Open — to award equal prize money to women.King’s advocacy has always transcended tennis. She started the Women’s Sports Foundation in 1974 to develop sports opportunities for girls and women post-Title IX. After she was publicly outed for being gay in 1981 and lost many of her endorsements, she later became an activist for gay rights.King standing with her wife, Ilana Kloss, also her business partner of more than 40 years. The pair have invested in six sports, including women’s hockey.Chris Tanouye/Freestyle Photography, via Getty ImagesPhaidra Knight, a World Rugby Hall of Fame player and past president of the Women’s Sports Foundation, said King created an inclusive culture at the group. “Through that LGBTQ+ lens and her courage, she has inspired courage in many other lanes, for people to work together,” Knight said in an interview.Beyond King’s encouragement of her as a Black and gay woman, Knight said she valued how King taught her to approach rugby officials to improve business opportunities for the women’s game.Angela Ruggiero, another past president and a former women’s ice hockey Olympian, has also followed King’s lessons. She co-founded the Sports Innovation Lab, a market research company that uses analytics to understand digitally savvy sports fans. Her research shows that fans of every gender are responding to women’s sports. She has frequent brainstorming sessions with King, who never stops asking questions.“We’re going back and forth on how do we bring more capital into women’s sports,” Ruggiero said. “She’ll be at the edge of her seat, fired up. It’s just her nature to be an agent of change.”King said she secretly advised the soccer player Julie Foudy and eight of her teammates in 1995 to hold out for fair contracts and get the younger players behind them. The team won the 1996 Olympics and ignited the frenzy for women’s soccer by winning the 1999 Women’s World Cup before 90,185 fans in the Rose Bowl.Twenty years later, Megan Rapinoe led the U.S. women to another World Cup victory, this time with the fans chanting “Equal Pay.” In 2022, the women’s national team settled its gender discrimination lawsuit against the national federation for $24 million, and a pledge to equalize salaries and prize money.Megan Rapinoe led Team USA to victory at the 2019 World Cup, as fans in the stands shouted “Equal Pay.” Rapinoe recently said that the 2023 World Cup will show that “equality is good for business.”Alex Grimm/Getty ImagesLast month, Rapinoe talked at a news conference about how the 2023 World Cup would be a game-changer for women’s sports, showing that “equality is actually good for business.”King chuckled.“Every generation thinks they are the first to say this — it’s fun to listen to them,” she said. “I’m glad we’re on the same page trying to get things done.”As always, capital is key. She and Kloss — who joined the celebrity ownership group of Angel City Football Club of the National Women’s Soccer League in 2020 — were encouraged by Y. Michele Kang’s recent $35 million purchase of the league’s Washington Spirit.“We need more people to continue to step up,” King said. “If you look at everything now, it’s the billionaires. And then you look at the Middle East, that’s going to be another thing.”In a news conference, King supported the WTA’s exploration of funding from Saudi Arabia, which has already bought in to professional golf with its LIV Golf merger with the PGA Tour. Although she acknowledged the country’s discriminatory policies around women and homosexuality, she told reporters, “I don’t think you really change unless you engage.” She added that this was her opinion. “I’d still probably go and try to talk with them,” she said.Engagement has always been King’s life philosophy, along with knowing your history. She’s not ready to finish writing hers.In November, King will turn 80.“She really has a sense of running out of time,” Kloss said, “and she can’t get enough.” More