I know to write this a few years ago would be the biggest blasphemy, but now it absolutely seems plausible. All Sam Querrey has to do to reach the US Open Finals is take down Mischa Zverev in the Rd of 16, Kevin Anderson in the quarters (I’m projecting here) and either Denis Shapovalov or Diego Schwartzman in the semis. No one in the bottom half of the men’s draw where Querrey resides is in the top 10 or ever been to a slam semis except Sam. How hard is his road? With a player of Querrey’s stature (6’6″) and suddenly dominant game, Sam has vastly improved his footwork speed, his backhand, his “intangibles” as he calls his fleshing out of his game that was once just a one-dimensional huge serve and equally huge forehand, his net play and most importantly, his resolve. Sam Querrey is one tough dude now.Yesterday was another case in point in the maturation of 29-year-old Sam Querrey’s game (I just can’t call him QBall anymore). I got out to the Open serendipitously just as his match against Radu Albot was about to start in the slapped-together Louis Armstrong Stadium. I had taken my bike on the Metro North Train from White Plains to 125th Street and then hopped on my bike and crossed the Randall’s Island Bridge and then the RFK Bridge into Queens. It was wild cycling over both bridges because there was a logjam of young people dressed in all crazy outfits going to the Electric Zoo Festival this weekend on Randall’s Island to see bands like DeadMau5 and Zedd that I’ve never even heard of. This is when you know you’re getting old.
On the way to the Open, I stopped at a falafel joint on Steinway Avenue and had the most delicious huge bowl of Lentil Soup, my favorite, for $3.50. Can’t beat it! When I got out to the Open, I got a delicious raw salmon salad from one of the kiosks so I was in good form food-wise. Riding your bike to the Open is one of the best ways to get out there. You avoid the bridges and dreaded No. 7 train and where you lock your bike, there are like 10 police cars.
Then the match began. I got a good seat and Sam who looks a little like the actor George Kennedy, alright a lot slimmer, but Sam is not a stylish guy. He was wearing his Fila outfit with white shorts, white and black sneaks, a blue shirt and white hat. But Sam plays now with major energy. It’s not like he’s jumping all over the place, but he immediately starts slamming balls (I don’t think anyone in the game hits harder than Sam) inside out, inside in, down the line with his thudding backhand, murderously on his serve. Sam hits the shit out of the ball!
Albot who came into the match after beating the young American Escobedo in the first round and Randy Lu in five sets in the second round is from Moldavia. Where the hell is Moldavia? He’s running around the court like a jackrabbit. He kind of looks like Michael Keaton, but he sounds like Jimmy Cagney. When he hits the ball he emits a “Heh” sound as if he’s spitting back at Sam, “Take that, you dirty rat.” Querrey at 29 seems very relaxed, much more so than Izzy, who seems to walk around a lot, especially last night when the elder Zverev reduced the North Carolinian’s game to a mess of unforced errors, like a man walking dazed in the desert.
Querrey by contrast, never makes any acknowledgement to the fans, who were out in droves yesterday to support Sam. One guy in the big crowd yelled out, “We are here for you, Sam.” And Querrey didn’t even look up at the guy or glance in his direction. It’s like he’s too modest to even nod his head. Sam even says “thank you” to the ball people before they toss him the ball. I asked him about his reserve in the post-match presser and he said, very earnestly, “I play my best when I’m not too emotional either way. If I change that based on the crowd size, something bad will happen. I get what you’re saying. Like it is tough. But I’m just doing what I do, keep my emotions pretty level-headed. People can come out and watch if they want. If they don’t want to, they don’t have to.”
But he even said this in a nice way. And it’s funny about fans in general anyway. I was looking at the crowd in Louis Armstrong and they were all white, ok there were a couple of black males, one black female on her own, a few Asians of course, but absolutely no Hispanics at least at Sam’s match and most are into the tennis, but at the average tennis match, even one played by the top American (I know he’s not in the rankings, but Sam has far surpassed now Izzy, Sock and SteveJo) at the US Open, most fans are somewhat reserved, their rooting interest is not very keen. I think they care as much about what they’re going to have for lunch or what hotel they’re staying at as the match itself.
At 4-all, Querrey and Albot played the point of the tournament. Most tennis points are pretty rote, but this one was extraordinary. Qball, ok I can’t help myself, hit a beauty of a forehand drop short off a short ball cross court (you don’t usually see forehand drop shots cross-court; and this also speaks to Sam’s touch) and Albot raced in like a man running through Grand Central to catch his train, and hits a smart down the line ball that Q scrambles over to and somehow lofts over Albot’s short head. Albot goes back and hits a tweener mid-court, and then turns around and charges the net. Qball surprised, laces a backhand cross-court that Radu volleys and then hits another volley down the line for the winner. If Albot were American, fans would be singing his praises.
And Albot wins the first set, but then Qball starts dialing in on his serve, 133 mph, 135 mph, zoom, crash, boom! Albot is hitting serves 97 mph. It becomes clear that Albot’s run in the US Open is going to end. Qball is just too strong a player. Brad Gilbert and Mardy Fish are announcing in the booth above the court and I start looking up at Gilbert. He’s announcing standing up and no one gesticulates calling a match as much as Gilbert does. I look at the big green leafy tree smack dab in the middle of Armstrong court and I realize at tennis matches, unlike most spectator sports, there are no vendors coming by yelling out, “Beer here.” “Mrs, Robinson” pulses over the loudspeakers and Sam Querrey, who I remember seeing as a teen looking like Jughead eating a pizza before a Challenger match at Forest Hills, dominates in four sets, 4-6, 6-2, 6-2, 6-4.
I ask him at the presser later, when he felt his game really clicking and Sam said, “I said this once before, I think it was in Alcapulco, my second round against Goffin. I really clicked in that match, committed myself to really being aggressive, coming forward. I feel like from that point forward this year, I’ve just played probably the best I’ve played in my career.”
Sam Querrey, US Open champion! It has a nice ring. It sounds surreal because we’re used to–well we’re not used to American players winning any slams now for 14 years, but when they did, we’re used to Andy Roddick winning one at age 21, McEnroe winning one at 21 and Pete Sampras at age 19 and it sounds surreal because it’s Sam Querrey who once looked like he’d go through his career without ever really trying all that hard or caring all that much, but now all that has changed and Sam Querrey has a legitimate shot to win the US Open.
