2014 US Open coverage

Novak Djokovic

10 tips for your day at the US Open
US Open trivia

Fashion and gear:

A trip down memory lane:

Top 5 strange events at the US Open
US Open biggest upsets
1970 US Open: Margaret Court completes the Grand Slam
1971 US Open: Chris Evert becomes the “It Girl”
1972 US Open: Ilie Nastase defeats Arthur Ashe
1973 US Open: Margaret Court defeats Evonne Goolagong
1978 US Open: 4th consecutive US Open title for Chris Evert
1978 US Open: Jimmy Connors defeats Bjorn Borg
79 US Open 2nd round: McEnroe vs Nastase, chaos on court
1979 US Open: John McEnroe defeats Vitas Gerulaitis
1980 US Open: John McEnroe defeats Bjorn Borg
1981 US Open: Tracy Austin defeats Martina Navratilova
1981 US Open: John McEnroe defeats Bjorn Borg: Borg’s last Grand Slam match
1983 US Open: Career Grand Slam for Martina Navratilova
1984 US Open: John McEnroe last Grand Slam title
1990 US Open: Linda Ferrando upsets Monica Seles
1990 US Open: Alexander Volkov upsets Stefan Edberg
1991 US Open: Connors, 39 qualifies for the semifinals
1991 US Open: Seles and Capriati introduce power in womens tennis
1991 US Open: playing to perfection, Edberg grabs first Open
1991 US Open: Edberg’s final dominance doesn’t diminish Courier
1992: Stefan Edberg defeats Pete Sampras
1992 US Open: Edberg takes Sampras, US Open, No.1 ranking
1993 US Open: Pete Sampras defeats Cédric Pioline
1994 US Open 4th round: Jaime Yzaga defeats Pete Sampras
1994: first US Open title for Andre Agassi
1996 US Open: Class act Edberg making one last run at US Open
2001 US Open: Venus defeats sister Serena
2001 US Open QF: Andre Agassi – Pete Sampras
2001 US Open: Lleyton Hewitt defeats Pete Sampras
2002 US Open: last Grand Slam title for Pete Sampras
2004 US Open: First time to NYC for a French fan of Agassi
Andre Agassi gives the Open crowd one more thrill ride, August 31st, 2006

Reports:

Polls:

Who will win the 2014 US Open?

  • Roger Federer (41%, 59 Votes)
  • Novak Djokovic (28%, 40 Votes)
  • Rafael Nadal (12%, 17 Votes)
  • Grigor Dimitrov (4%, 6 Votes)
  • Other (4%, 6 Votes)
  • Milos Raonic (3%, 5 Votes)
  • Andy Murray (2%, 3 Votes)
  • Kei Nishikori (2%, 3 Votes)
  • Stanislas Wawrinka (1%, 2 Votes)
  • Tomas Berdych (1%, 2 Votes)
  • David Ferrer (0%, 0 Votes)

Total Voters: 143

Loading ... Loading ...

Who will win the 2014 US Open?

  • Serena Williams (38%, 22 Votes)
  • Eugenie Bouchard (17%, 10 Votes)
  • Maria Sharapova (16%, 9 Votes)
  • Other (12%, 7 Votes)
  • Petra Kvitova (7%, 4 Votes)
  • Simona Halep (5%, 3 Votes)
  • Li Na (2%, 1 Votes)
  • Jelena Jankovic (2%, 1 Votes)
  • Victoria Azarenka (2%, 1 Votes)
  • Agnieszka Radwanska (0%, 0 Votes)
  • Angelique Kerber (0%, 0 Votes)

Total Voters: 58

Loading ... Loading ...

Will Roger Federer win another Grand Slam title before the end of his career?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...

View more

By Selena Roberts, September 1, 1996, New York Times

Stefan Edberg realizes his top 10 years are behind him, tucked away with everything else in a hope chest of sorts. Edberg’s career is something to be opened years from now, when his velvet volleys will be re-discovered, when his gentleman’s demeanor will likely seem antique with the new breed of player crashing around the courts now.
Edberg is elegant, as classy as a chandelier, hanging over tennis for so long that no one wants him to go out. That’s why Stadium Court, madhouse central, was packed to its railings Tuesday afternoon as Edberg opened his last U.S. Open with a roaring upset of fifth-seeded Richard Krajicek.

They jumped to their feet again Friday night, popping up like submerged corks when he wore down an injured Bernd Karbacher. Amazing how an injury can be the cause for such celebration.
That’s because so many see Edberg as one of a kind, not just another champion who has kissed two Wimbledon trophies, and lofted another two at the Open, all among his six Grand Slam titles.
This is his last chance to add another. No more Slams, he promises. He will not reappear like an aging prizefighter. It’s time to go at age 30, eligible for the senior discount in tennis years. But is there one more Slam left for before it ends?

“I’m always being realistic,” he said Friday night after Karbacher, who was down two sets to one, retired with a hamstring pull. “I think there’s very little chance, but nothing is impossible. If I play great tennis, that could take me a long way. A lot of things can happen, like tonight, when a guy gets injured. Maybe it’s going to happen more, who knows? I’m two for two now. Krajicek had a nosebleed, so …”

So there was laughter. Edberg broke up the place, a witty side of the often reserved Swede that he has kept to himself for years. He is not keen on outbursts, always the perfect fit for a game that falls silent during a point.
That makes the site of the Open an odd match for Edberg. But it seems he has grown accustomed to the LaGuardia flight patterns, the rumblings of the 7-Train, the Long Island Rail Road and crowds that have strengthened their vocal cords through years of hailing taxis.

“There were times when it was difficult to cope with the conditions,” Edberg has said. “It’s New York and there’s so much happening.”

But winning can make you comfortable on a pin cushion. Whatever prickliness Edberg might have had for the Open at one point, it was soothed when he won the title in 1991, slipping by almost unnoticed when Jimmy Connors was all the rage at the end of his career, the player making all the noise in so many of the night matches.
But nighttime has been the wrong time for Edberg in the past, his 7-4 Open record in the dark being one very good reason. And in the past, the stirring in the seats might have annoyed him. Now, with time, he finds the things that go bump in the night almost charming.

“The crowds can be very loud, especially when you’re playing in the evening,” said Edberg. “I’ve been here playing against Connors and it can be very, very loud. It makes it exciting at the same time.”

Connors made a late-stage run at the Open at the end, thrilling everyone with his semifinal appearance in 1991. Is it Edberg’s turn? Could he become the crowd mascot?

“I don’t think that’s going to happen too many times,” Edberg said. “I think in 1991, when Jimmy got to the semifinals, it was just incredible all of the people coming out. It was like Connors-mania in America. I think it takes an American, somebody special like Jimmy. For me that year it was actually great, because all of the attention was on him. I could sort of quietly go through that year.”

That’s just like him, silent and serene. It’s only now that people have really started to take notice. Isn’t that always the way it is? When a champion leaves, suddenly people realize what this person has meant to the game.

“I think Stefan is a professional that every young person, every athlete should strive to emulate,” Andre Agassi said.

Agassi is a guy who is often a loud bang to Edberg’s muffled ways, a splash of fluorescent color to Edberg’s conservative tennis whites. Yet, even Agassi realizes what style Edberg has.

“I think he reflects discipline, commitment, ability and talent,” Agassi said. “He gives back to the game.”

All of those gifts will be stored away when Edberg departs, gifts only to be discovered again and again.

“He only adds to the game,” Agassi said. “Really, his image and his person is impeccable.”

1991 US Open champion Stefan Edberg

Washington Post, September 9 1991

There is nothing more beautiful or more breathtaking than Stefan Edberg‘s tennis game when he is on. Every stroke is poetic, every movement lyrical. And today, showing unerring form and grace, Edberg confounded and frustrated Jim Courier to win his first U.S. Open title Edberg’s 6-2, 6-4, 6-0 dissection was evidence that the 25-year-old Swede has overcome his Open phobia and found his center of gravity in New York. Overshadowed all week by the hysteria over Jimmy Connors, and almost forgotten amid the publicity about a pack of new young stars, Edberg’s flawless performance in Louis Armstrong Stadium was a jolting reminder of why he is the top-ranked player in the world.

“It was almost like a dream out there,” Edberg said when the 2-hour 2-minute match ended. “I played as well as I think I can.”

The title marked Edberg’s fifth Grand Slam victory and it offset an otherwise disappointing year. Although ranked No. 1 for most of 1991, he lost in the quarterfinals at the Australian Open and the semifinals at the French Open and Wimbledon. He had never made it to the final of the Open and was upset in the first round last year; he compensated today with a brilliance and consistency seldom seen in such high-pressure contests.
With his mellifluous strokes and delicate footwork, Edberg danced around the court as gracefully as Fred Astaire. Even Courier, the winner of the French Open in June, recognized that Edberg was on automatic pilot today. “All you can do is hope he goes off,” Courier said.

Always uncomfortable with the hullabaloo of this event, Edberg strategically changed his environment here this year. He played fewer tournaments this summer because he felt his stunning upset last year was a result of fatigue. With his fiancee, Annette Olson, he rented a house on Long Island instead of staying in a hotel in Manhattan. And he delighted when, day after day, Connors stole the attention.
“Nobody was talking about me. That kept the pressure off me, and that’s the way I like it,” said Edberg, an amiable, mild-mannered sort who is most at ease in the peace and quiet of his adopted home, London.
Despite the changes, Edberg, the No. 2 seed, looked shaky in the early rounds. But his game finally clicked when he defeated spunky Michael Chang in straight sets in the fourth round.
“That was the turning-point match,” Edberg said. “I had this feeling maybe I could do it this year, although you’re never really sure.”

By comparison, fourth-seeded Courier, who had a much tougher draw, looked impressive throughout the two weeks. He had not dropped a set, even against defending champion Pete Sampras, whom he ousted in the quarterfinals. A bulldog on the court whose style is a cross between the gutsy Connors and the power-packed Ivan Lendl, Courier hoped to dominate with his big serve and disrupt Edberg’s serve-and-volley game with his thunderous forehand.
Courier had reason to be hopeful. His first title as a professional came two years ago in Basel, Switzerland, when he beat Edberg in the final. In their last meeting, in the French Open quarterfinals, Courier trounced Edberg in four sets. With new-found powers of concentration and a hard-hitting game to go with it, Courier had never lost in the four times he’d reached a final. But whatever optimism Courier had coming into the match quickly crumbled.
He was broken at 1-1 in the first set, a victim of Edberg’s superb passing shots. And he could not convert two break points when Edberg served at 3-2, thanks to an exquisite topspin lob that Edberg hit after loping to the ball.

In the first game of the second set, Courier had a brief flash of brilliance when he staved off three break points with two aces — clocked at 116 and 114 mph — that momentarily put Edberg on the defensive. But that was just an idle diversion.
Never blinking, Edberg continued to arch his whirling, twisting serve deep to the corners with so much kick that Courier occasionally had to block the ball back from above his head. “I was trying to get out of the way of it sometimes,” Courier said.
Even when Courier managed a sensational return, Edberg, as crisp and cool as ever, plucked the ball from the air and smothered a volley. “I was hitting some great shots and he would come up with shots that made mine look like I don’t know what,” Courier said.
Tugging at his ever-present white baseball cap, and with his sweat-drenched shirt hanging out of his shorts, Courier tried to find the grit he needed to thwart Edberg’s relentless attack. He tried clubbing passing shots at Edberg’s feet. No way, Edberg said. He tried elegantly angled slices. Sorry, Edberg said. He tossed up gorgeous lobs. Forget it, Edberg said.
At one point, Courier turned to a fan in the stands and shrugged his shoulders. He sighed, “Wow! What can you do?” The most that Courier could assemble was an occasional winner on his service return, usually a reflexive punch that simply deflected the ball at an incredible angle. Courier finally resorted to standing his racket on its handle to show the umpire the spot where he thought an Edberg ace had landed out.
Edberg’s serves and volleys were so impeccable that he won a staggering 84 percent of the points when his first serve went in. Courier had three chances but never scored a break in the match.

Toward the end, there was nothing more that Courier could do but watch his own demise with awe. “I’ve been pummeled before,” Courier said, “but this is the worst beating I’ve taken all year.”
Edberg, meanwhile, found new affection for this tournament and for New York.

“It is really something to actually win it here,” he said. “I felt so relaxed out there. It’s hard to describe. I’m just a happy guy right now.”

Excerpt of John McEnroe‘s autobiography Serious:

“In the second round at the US Open, I destroyed a young Swedish upstart named Stefan Edberg, 6-1 6-0 6-2, then burned a swath through to the semifinals without dropping a set. On what came to be known as Super Saturday, after the three-set men’s 35 year olds division final, after the LendlCash semi (which ran quite long, Lendl winning a fifth-set tiebreaker), after Martina Navratilova beat Chris Evert Lloyd in a three-set women’s final – Connors and I finally walked onto the court at close to 7 pm!
Here was Jimmy’s chance for revenge. In the press conference after the Wimbledon final, I’d said that I now felt all I had to do was play well and I should beat everybody out there. Connors had taken grave exception. ‘That’s an awfully big statement to back up for the next four or five years’, he said.

Now, at Flushing Meadows, it was put-or-shut-up time. Jimmy had won the tournament the last two years in a row; he could work the New York crowd like nobody’s business. He was angry, and hungry.
But so was I. I really didn’t want Connors to open my three-Opens-in-a-row record, and I really wanted to get through to the final and get revenge on Lendl for the French.

The match with Jimmy was a slugfest from the start, an exciting five-setter that wound up running until 11.15 PM. The Flushing Meadows crowd, exhausted with over twelve hours of tennis, started filing out of the stadium when we went to a fifth set. It killed me that we were playing such a great match, but that the stands were only a quarter-full by the time we finished.
But by the time we finished, I was the winner, 6-3 in the fifth – 51 games, 3 hours and 45 minutes later.

I got home very late, still so jazzed up (yet exhausted) from the match that it was past two AM by the time I finally got to sleep. I could barely imagine having to play a final against Lendl. I woke up at noon on Sunday and staggered out of bed. By the time I got to the locker room at Flushing Meadows, I was so stiff I could barely walk. I was very worried – until I crossed the room and saw Lendl (whose match against Cash had gone 3 hours and 39 minutes) attempting to touch his hands to his toes. He could barely get past his knees!
He’s worst than I am I thought. A jolt of adrenaline shot through my body.

I felt that if I could just get in a good two hours of tennis, I could beat him. My body was saying That’s enough, but in some weirs way, the fatigue worked for me that afternoon. The fact that I was tired made me concentrate better, the more tired I felt, the better I seemed to hit the ball. It was a purely mental thing – push, push – and I didn’t get angry at anything because I needed every ounce of energy I had.

I won the first set 6-3. At one juncture, after I double-faulted in the second game of the second set, he had a break point. I came to net on a first serve at 30-40, hit the volley, and Lendl uncorked a huge forehand to try to pass me on my backhand side. The ball hit the tape and cannoned up at a weird angle, and I swung around in a full circle and hit the forehand volley for a winner. Sometimes it helps to be unconscious!

Second set 6-4. That was when visions of the French final flickered through my head. However, I knew I couldn’t – and wouldn’t – choke this one away. I gave the third set everything I had: when I broke his serve once, that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to drive a stake through this guy’s heart. I got the second break, went to 4-0, and even though Lendl never stopped trying (the way it seemed he had the previous year, in the final against Connors), I had too much momentum. Final set 6-1.

I had my fourth Open.
It was the last Grand Slam title I would ever win.

Bjorn and Connos, 1978 US Open final

Extract from Inside tennis – a season on the pro tour by Peter Bodo and June Harrison

The swelling began on Saturday night, shortly after Bjorn Borg mastered Vitas Gerulaitis in the semifinal. It grew like a small bubble of pain beneath the callus on the joint of his right thumb. Borg phoned his New York physician late that night and took an oral anti-inflammatory drug. But when he woke up on Sunday morning, the thumb had worsened; the pain increased. When Borg tied to hold a racquet with his customary grip, he found that the pain made it impossible. Once more he called his doctor, who gave the player an injection of Marcaine, a strong anesthetic, at 3:30 in the afternoon, less than three hours before the match.
Borg did not consider defaulting. An international television audience waited. The stadium was sold out. The dim vision of a Grand Slam still flickered before him.

The lights are already on as the men’s final gets underway. It is not quite dark, but it will be soon, and the scoreboard atop the stadium will rear up into the night like a monument to the defiance of Jimmy Connors – American hero, American scapegoat.
It is clear from the start that Borg is not himself. In one of his early servoce games, the racquet flies from his injured hand and clatters along the court. He watches Connors’ winning return with his arms dangling at his sides.

Connors leads the first set 6-4 and leads the second 5-2. It is dark now, Connors is prancing at the baseline, his jaws working over a piece of gum. It is time to throw himself into one final, savage round.

Just moments earlier, resting in his chair during the changeover, Connors had been telling himself,

“Don’t let up in any way. This is how you won in the past, and this is the only way you’re ever going to win? Don’t let up. Set up and 5-2 – hell! This is Bjorn Borg, and he can get back into it at any time. Rip the ball! Don’t let up – rip that fucking ball.”

Connors is still prancing, fixing Borg with a stare as fierce as any volley or smash in his hot, hard world. At the far end of the court, Borg is implacable, his eyes hidden beneath the omnipresent headband. He is too pround to show his pain, too cool to show any emotion, even as he faces Connors’ little dance of death.

The noise from the stands is non longer polite, encouraging applause, but a heavy, rolling din filled with unhealthy mental excitement. It drowns out the thunder of still another jet passing over the stadium. The Swedish boy stands with his weight on one leg and his shoulders slanted, still as Michelangelo’s David. He rubs the grip of his racquet with his fingers.
He knows that look in Connors’ eyes, but he doesn’t want to think about it, because he has won so often and played so well when he ignored things like that. So he just waits, aware of the pain increasing as the anesthtic wears off, sensing that he is about to lose the match and his hope for the Grand Slam. But he is not disturbed by that either, because in the end it is just another tennis match.

The game begins. Both men strike the ball furiously, sending it from corner to corner, line to line, exchanging points until 40-30. The next maniacal rally ends with Connors hitting a forehand just centimeters behind the baseline. He shakes his head violently. It is deuce. The retching sound of his effort fills the stadium, and he hits a service winner for advantage. It is set point. There is a short rally. Borg drives Connors back from the net and then comes forward behind a heavy forehand to the backhand corner. Connors barely manages to float it back; the ball bounces high in the midcourt area but the backhand is mistimed, and Borg bangs the ball into the net.
Connors has the second set. Before long he has the third as well, to win 6-4 6-2 6-2. Borg did not hold a single break pint agasint Connors in the entire match; his opponent put a remarkable 80 percent of his first serves into play. It was a reversal of the Wimbledon final.