There’s Still Tennis At The U.S. Open

The U.S. Open is a city in miniature. The food is expensive; wealthy people flock to the tallest vantage points while richer experiences on the outskirts are ignored; influencers bother the masses. Read enough about the tournament, or just walk around the grounds for a few days, and you could forget that tennis is played here. At its worst, the Open feels like a 15-day cocktail party where a couple hundred of the world's best tennis players happen to be present. Those players aren't going anywhere, though, no matter how high the ticket prices get or how muted the ambiance becomes. And they tend to play some great tennis while they're here. Carlos Alcaraz is back from a four-month layoff for a wrist injury, and so is his forehand. He hit a winner at 107 mph to get his first break of the tournament. The serve's still missing, but that's fine; he's playing at an all-world level even without it, and the forehand was always more synonymous with his abilities as an entertainer. Alcaraz spent his first two matches reviving the gonzo, inventive style that went extinct during his absence. Rather than crush short backhands down the line, he wafted them crosscourt, trying to hit the advertising boards along the sides of the court before his opponent could reach the ball. He tickled the forecourt with drop shots and let the area around the baseline feel the vertical plonk of a lob as well as the horizontal swipes of his forehand. To some, though, Alcaraz's off-court movements are of more interest. During his first-round match, I inadvertently glanced at my media section neighbor's phone and caught an incoming text, printed here with neighbor's permission: "Is Carlos a pussy hound?"

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