For many, the 1984 US Open encapsulates all that is wondrous about the sport of tennis; captivating rivalries, fan-friendly stadiums and thrilling, highly competitive matches going the distance in the summer twilight. Coincidentally, it would mark the end of six magical fortnights working at the US Open.
My family’s yearly pilgrimage to the US Open was the highlight of my summer. As a young girl, I was fortunate to have watched the legends of the game compete on the lush grass of the magnificent West Side Tennis Club. Billie Jean King, Margaret Court, Laver and James Scott Connors felt like long lost friends – even family, and this was our annual reunion.
Tennis embraced me and I hugged back. It was 1977 – the last year the Open was to be contested at Forest Hills. Though my dad and I mourned the end of professional grass court tennis in New York, it would coincide with my six year tenure working at the Super Bowl of tennis.
Jerry Perline, an artist and sign painter, would forever my change life that summer. While walking the glorious grounds of the West Side Tennis Club, I stumbled upon a man with a paintbrush and ruler in hand; I was transfixed by what I observed. He sketched the men’s and women’s draws, in addition to the doubles, mixed, juniors and seniors. He proceeded to paint the seeded player’s names in red while the unseeded were black.
The following year, the Open moved to its present location at Flushing Meadows. Dad and I christened Louis Armstrong stadium during the first night match ever played which featured Borg dismantling Bob Hewitt in straights sets.
I wasn’t convinced Jerry would remember me but happily he did and asked if I would consider working for him those two weeks reciting scores while he painted, and the following year assisting another artist responsible for painting the names of the players scheduled on the outside courts each day.
It would seem I had won the lottery and so began six years of two-and-a-half hour train rides, thirteen hour days and countless memories of some of the greatest tennis matches in the history of the sport. My tenure working at the final slam of the year coincided with the golden age of tennis where Martina vs Chris, McEnroe vs Connors vs Borg was always on the menu.
Thirty years ago, Super Saturday was born and for die-hard tennis devotees, the pinnacle for a sport on the brink of world-wide mass appeal. Though the female players would complain and eventually secure their own day to shine, albeit a night match the same day as the men’s semis, this fan longs for the good old days when one ticket granted admission into Grand Slam heaven!
In the 1984 US Open final, Evert and Navratilova squared off for the 61st time with Martina having won their previous 11 matches. Pat Cash and Lendl went the distance as did Connors and McEnroe. On September 8th, known from that day forward as Super Saturday, fans were treated to 12 hours of continuous, extraordinary tennis with the women’s three set final sandwiched between the two men’s semi-finals.
On the men’s side there was certainly power but also variety, touch and strategy. The era of rocket-propelled serves, quicker points and high-tech equipment had not yet dawned. Consequently, fans luxuriated in extended rallies punctuated by exquisite serve and volley tennis at the hands of John McEnroe. For the women, Martina’s fitness and exceptional athleticism compelled Evert to hit the gym hard and tweak her game.
No one could have predicted that 1984 would be my last year working at my hometown slam or that McEnroe and Connors would never win another; Boris Becker would win Wimbledon the following year as an unseeded teenager, ushering in the era of the power game. Navratilova and Evert would play their last Grand Slam final just two years later at the 1986 French Open.
Sadly, Jerry’s artistry was circumvented by a computer; art, creativity and spectacle were undermined and usurped by technology. To proclaim that hundreds of people over the course of a fortnight stood, watched and wondered as Jerry painted the entire US Open draw on a huge aluminum canvas is an enormous understatement. Undeniably, beauty and art were sacrificed for financial gain but I wasn’t the only casualty; so too every player and fan that never witnessed Jerry in his element performing his magic.
Unfortunately, I cannot turn back the clock for me and Jerry but it’s not too late for the fans. The women’s final, scheduled for Saturday evening, consistently fails to sell out and garners less than stellar television ratings. I unwaveringly support women’s equality but it must be acknowledged that the WTA tour is not on par with the ATP in terms of revenue and popularity. If the ATP council implements a format of best of three sets through the quarters at the four slams, realistically, the men could play two consecutive days.
The women would play first on Super Saturday followed by the two men’s semis with the men’s final the following day. Just as it was in 1984 – I would reinstitute the one ticket admission policy. By bringing back Super Saturday, the sport will attract additional viewers and expose the top women’s players to a new, diverse audience.
My summer dream job may have been eliminated but hope remains for us life-long impassioned US Open devotees; bring out the VCR and press rewind once more. It’s time to bring back Super Saturday 1984!
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Main Photo via USOpen.org
