US Open: The Loudest and Smelliest Grand Slam in Tennis?

As a plane roared overhead, the sound of Taylor Fritz's racket hitting the ball seemed to vanish into thin air. That was the moment I realized the US Open is unlike any other Grand Slam. It's not just about matches stretching past 2 a.m., but because this place has its own personality: loud, smelly, and brutally alive. Since I started covering professional tennis in the 1980s, I've watched Pat Cash complain about battling the noise at Flushing Meadows. Back then, I thought it was just a fussy player's gripe. But after 37 years of observation, I've come to realize it's not merely subjective. It's a structural characteristic of this tournament. Let me break it down further. The US Open once had the 'Super Saturday' schedule in 2026, when both men's semifinals were packed into the same day, sandwiched around the women's final. That was a broadcast-driven decision, but it showed a willingness to sacrifice players' physical well-being for the audience. The format was later abandoned due to player welfare concerns, but it left a legacy: the US Open is the most commercially aggressive of the Slams. This year, I paid special attention to Angelique Kerber. The 2026 US Open champion once said the noise was the hardest thing to get used to when she first played here. In a Rolex-hosted press conference, she recalled her first match on Arthur Ashe Stadium at night, against Serena Williams. It was an iconic moment, but it also highlighted a technical issue few notice: plane noise can drown out the sound of the racket hitting the ball, which players use to gauge power, spin, and trajectory. When this auditory feedback channel is disrupted, their ability to calibrate shots, especially groundstrokes, can degrade. I remember watching Arthur Fery at Wimbledon last year. He's a young British player who reached the semifinals as a qualifier. But at the US Open, he admitted to using earplugs to reduce the noise. In an interview, Fery said he uses them when feeling frustrated or irritated, and keeps them in his bag as a standard tool. That sounds reasonable, but it creates a trade-off: earplugs block ambient noise, but they also attenuate the ball-contact sound he needs for shot calibration. This is a technical issue no other Slam faces. But the US Open isn't just loud. It's also 'smelly' in the literal sense. The smell of burgers from fast-food stands mixes with the scent of weed from the crowd. In New York, cannabis has been legal since 2026, but that doesn't reduce the discomfort for players. Alex de Minaur, who always takes a measured, professional approach, shared that he chose to stay in a quieter area for the first time to avoid the city's noise. It's a smart strategy, but it also reflects a reality: the US Open environment can affect the performance of noise-sensitive players. In contrast, Ben Shelton is the complete opposite. The young American, who reached the 2026 US Open semifinals, calls this 'the greatest tournament in the world.' He seems energized by the chaos. This reveals a clear divide among players: those who absorb energy from the crowd and those who must actively filter it out. Shelton belongs to the former, while Kerber and de Minaur belong to the latter. And this difference can decide match outcomes at this tournament. Looking back at history, I notice the US Open has taken strong measures to address the noise issue. In 2026, New York Mayor David Dinkins intervened to change flight paths near Arthur Ashe Stadium. This is a rare example of local government and a sports event cooperating, showing the US Open's special status in the city's ecosystem. No other Slam has this privilege. However, the weed smell issue remains a legal gray zone. Though cannabis is legal in New York, the US Open is a private event held on public parkland. The USTA cannot easily ban legal activities in public spaces, yet the smell affects players' health and focus. This is an emerging governance issue unique to the US Open. On the physical side, the dense schedule is also a concern. Fery had to play in Winston-Salem just a week before the US Open and admitted he wasn't fully recovered. This exemplifies the ATP calendar pressure, where 250-level events compete for player participation right before Slams. Without proper adjustments, the risk of injury and form dips will only grow. There's a contrarian angle I want to emphasize: this very 'loud and smelly' nature is part of the US Open's appeal. While Wimbledon prides itself on tradition and Roland Garros on elegance, the US Open embraces a 'raw' and urban energy. This creates a distinct identity, attracting a large young and international audience. The chaos isn't a flaw; it's a deliberate branding strategy. I've seen many young players arrive at the US Open with high hopes, only to be 'swallowed' by this atmosphere. Conversely, veterans like Novak Djokovic or Daniil Medvedev seem completely at ease. They've learned to turn the noise into motivation and the smell into part of their winning ritual. This shows that, at a tournament like the US Open, environmental adaptability matters more than pure technique. So, the question is: should we change the US Open to make it 'cleaner' and 'quieter'? I think not. Because these very elements create the tournament's identity. If we remove the noise and smell, we lose part of the US Open's soul. Instead, we should respect this difference and view it as part of the challenge every player must overcome. From the U21 European Championship stands in 2026, I realized that the biggest trends always wear the humblest clothes. The same applies to the US Open: its greatest appeal lies in the very chaos many consider a flaw. It's a lesson in embracing difference and turning it into an advantage. Finally, I want to stress that, whether you're a professional player or a passionate fan, come to the US Open with an open mind. Don't seek quiet or cleanliness here. Instead, immerse yourself in the flow of noise, smell, and energy. Because that's how you feel the true heartbeat of this sport.