An engineer overthinks tennis in a daily journal.
A couple of weeks ago the USTA sent an email addressed to all league and tournament players announcing that there will be no NTRP ratings updates published at the end of 2020. I believe that the majority of the regular readers of this site compete in adult tournaments or leagues, thus also received the email. Consequently, I am assuming that most are already aware that the “bump” will not occur this year.
The most absurd thing I have ever encountered while pitching in to dry a tennis court occurred a couple of years ago at a USTA League Sectional Championship event. As I was picking up a court drying implement, I was accosted by a woman who attempted to prevent me from using it. It was the first and the only time in my life that I can remember being discouraged from helping out with a wet court.
Yesterday’s installment in the Fiend at Court “Unplugged” series lamented the fact that there isn’t a universal standard or etiquette for drying courts when it rains at tennis tournaments. Today I shift my attention to rain during regular season USTA league play. This is an entirely different dynamic.
Extolling the virtues of “The EGO Leaf Blower” earlier this week, brought back a wave of memories of my times spent leaning over a squeegee. A significant part of my junior tennis career was spent drying courts… for my baby brother’s impending tournament match. I don’t recall him ever returning the favor for me, but to be fair, I also can’t recall a time when I went further in a tournament than he did that would have precipitated (see what I did there?) that opportunity.
Since the COVID-19 shutdown, I have scrutinized the bookshelves appearing on video for countless executives and leaders in my industry. My assumption is that the books and accent pieces that appear on those videos were carefully curated to project an image or to send a message. Consequently, from the first moments that Pam Shriver appeared on screen working remotely on coverage of the US Open, I have been attempting to decipher what books appear behind her.
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Every Wednesday this site considers a rule from the ITF Rules of Tennis as published by the USTA Friend at Court. We are currently in the midst of a sequential march through the rules. Currently we are in Section 29, “Continuous Play.” Today’s topic is the Set Break.
It rained during the early rounds of the US Open this year. I was completely disinterested in the two matches in progress on the courts in the covered stadiums at that time. Rather than switching over, I left the stream rolling on the rainy court. It was peaceful. For inexplicable reasons, I enjoy watching rain fall on a tennis court — as long as I am not the one actually waiting to play.
On the day of opening play in the US Open this year, the USTA announced a plan to use the tournament as a platform to promote awareness of key initiatives to promote and develop the growth of tennis in the United States. In addition to raising the visibility and awareness of social issues, “Rally to Rebuild,” “Net Generation,” and “Tennis Industry United,” were featured.
In one of the most shocking developments to occur at Fiend at Court to date, I find myself rounding up part three of a series on tennis dress codes. What started me down this path was a somewhat rare rule on tennis attire that appears in the local league regulations for the Capital Area Tennis Association (CATA) in Austin, Texas.
I own more all-white tennis clothes than might reasonably be anticipated. Given my druthers, I rarely wear white. It is a simple matter of economics. My natural ability to get food and ink stains on white things makes it prohibitively expensive to be constantly replacing those items. At the same time, I revere the all white dress code as an indelible part of the history of the tennis.
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