Anna and I reclined in our upper-deck seats, enjoying a brew and the breeze. Nearby, a khaki-shorted man sprawled his furry legs out over empty blue seats and French-kissed a yellow stew of nacho cheese and peppers. The smell of hot dogs and cigar smoke lingered in the air. But, there was no crack of the bat. There was no roar from the crowd. There was only silence. Church silence.

Then it started. Like a slumbering monster tormented with boredom, a section of the upper-deck started the ritualistic sit-stand that has come to be know as “The Wave.” It was spotty at first, but soon grew into an unstoppable force of knees, thighs, arms, elbows and hands thrust in pursuit of something big.

Then, over the loudspeaker, came the accented voice of the head umpire:

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is not the time for a Mexican wave – please wait until the changeover.”

The Mexican wave? Huh? The Changeover? Whaaa? Regardless of the confounding terminology, I knew I was faced with a decision as the human swell paced toward my section at 40 ft/s (PDF). Should I stand and disrespect the great sport of hit-the-fuzzy-yellow-ball or sit quietly, resigning myself to the next designated loud noise period?

I sat.

In the next seat my beloved wife, Anna, stood with pride, openly disobeying the command and whooping as if she’d really caught the surf.

How dare you madam! Then I gasped. How dare me!

(Cue some soft piano and dramatic voiceover) I was ashamed, not of my wife, but of myself. We paid a lot of money for some high-altitude seats. How was I guilted into silence?

While fans shouldn’t be allowed to blast Ricola horns, I do believe they should be allowed to cough openly. Go ahead U.S. Open - keep spreading your evil and despicable campaign of inaudibility you heartless no-goodery.

Don’t get me wrong. I had a great time at the U.S. Open. It was one of the most enjoyable professional sport experiences I’ve had in a while and I’d recommend it. But at the same time, I felt a strange conflict.

In the food courts outside the stadium there was wine, martinis and sushi on fancy white plates. A guy could still find a beer, but it was a Heineken. I’m not saying, I’m just saying.

Other highlights:
- We saw a few cast members from the HBO show Entourage
- We saw giant tennis balls
- We may have been on TV, possibly
- We saw Andy Murray kick the crap out of Stanislas Wawrinka
- We saw Serena Williams severely whip Severine Bremond
- We got souvenir cups
- We were just feet away from a couple who was upgraded to court-side seating

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008 at 9:49 pm and is filed under Queens, Sports. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.